...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

Continuing with the whole "Vampires Are Cool" theme for this week's TV watchery, I am currently rediscovering the Pure Awesomeness that is Ultraviolet. Philip Quast is Teh Sex anyway, but Philip Quast as a Catholic priest who hunts vampires and fancies Susannah Harker? Words cannot describe the sexiness!

In other news, apparently a TV License official called 'round yesterday; if it wasn't so fucking annoying, it would be pretty hilarious, as he must have called in the evening when I was home, and yet I had no idea there was anyone at the door. Yet this morning, lying forlornly on the welcome mat, is one of those "tried to call" letters. And seriously, these are the lamest scare tactics ever - the note is all, "If you had been caught evading a TV license today, you could have been fined!" Like, oh noes, I totally could have been fined, except that I wasn't, and also good luck getting in here without a search warrent, you cocksucking motherfucker. And that whole, "Your details have been passed on" line would be a lot more effective if the letter hadn't been addressed to "The Occupier". How is that database coming, guys?

All mockery aside, this shit really, really pisses me off. I don't have a TV aerial or a TV card for my PC, so I don't need a license, but I will be damned if I'm going to fill out a form and let some sweaty balding TVL thug poke around my house on the assumption that I'm a liar. I get these letters every month, and I am sick of TVL using government-sanctioned scare tactics to bully people into paying for something most of us would opt out of if we could.

Apparently Mr TVL is going to be calling again "very soon". All I can say is, I really hope he enjoys staring at my front door, as that is as close as any of these wastes of skin will be getting to my flat.

Went for tea at Alan and Jess's new flat last night. Just four of us, was fun. James started talking about painting his pet poodle's toenails and carrying it around London in a pink mesh bag. Still not sure if he was joking or not.

We watched first three episodes of Ultraviolet - mm, Jack Davenport-y - and decided that lack of super-fast cars, long coats and door-smashing is due to it being a British show about vampire hunting rather than an American one. At least idiot Warner Brothers can't cancel it.

Kirsty gets more annoying every time I watch it. She's all "I STALK YOU, MIKE!". And then she hires that reporter and is all, "I STALK YOU BY PROXY, MIKE!" Stupid bitch. No wonder Jack became one of the undead to get out of marrying her. Also laughed at the hickey scene between Mike and Francis:

Francis: *pointing to ickle bite scar Jack left on Mike's neck* Aren't you a bit old for one of those?
Mike: *shifty eyes*
Francis: Anyone I know?
Mike: ...no...

Angie still rocks. So does Francis. I love Vaughn's constant attempts to wind Mike up (which usually involves a trip to the containment room or whatever). And I just love Pearce generally: "I want you to stop drawing lazy connections between priests and pedeophiles." Like Mike just sat there and thought, 'Man, I really can't be bothered with this case. Let's just say it was a priest. Everyone knows priests like to rape little boys.'

Wish Jack had been in it more. He and the vampire who had cancer were the best.

Have been watching episodes of Granada's Sherlock Holmes TV series with Jeremy Brett as Holmes that I commandeered from Jonathan's bookshelf when I was home, and I have to say, am begining to understand his frequently expressed desire to have Jeremy Brett's manbabies. He is *very* cool.

Watched 'The Final Problem' and 'The Empty Room' last night, and still can't decide whether I prefer David Burke or Edward Hardwicke as Watson.

I can say with confidence, however, that you should never, ever watch Watership Down, Pirates of the Caribbean, Ultraviolet and Sherlock Holmes in the course of one night, while eating deep-fried cheese in pizza sauce at 5am, unless you're actively encouraging bizarre dreams involving Jack Davenport's character from Ultraviolet having his Norrington wig stolen by the rabbits from Watership Down, who then get told off by a rabbit version of Sherlock Holmes, only to have the entire warren collapse while, in the background, Captain Holly rages that this would never have happened if the Government hadn't forced him to let gays into his Owsla.

If you like those kind of dreams, however, go right ahead.