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

BRAY LIVES! At least, he lived at some point in the recent past, according to Ickle KC, who is no longer Ickle and is in fact quite burly and hunksome. So that was a little spark of joy with which to end the last season of the Tribe.

In other news, work is horrible and one day soon I will kill everyone there. With fire! And monkeys! And fire-breathing monkeys made of fire! Or possibly I will just hand in my notice and run away to Spain or something. And send them a mocking postcard that then BURSTS INTO FLAMES AND BURNS THEM ALL TO DEATH.

On a lighter note, the German market is in town now, and I went on the carosel and it was Awesome! Although I did not get either younger or older, which makes me suspect that Cornelia Funke is telling porky-pies about the supposed magical quality of roundabouts. For shame, Cornelia Funke! Also, I am rereading the Aubrey-Maturin books and they are the most funniest thing ever and I can't believe I forgot how glee-inducing they could be.

Anyway, that's all the news I have for you this week; my dad came over on Sunday but it was boring so I shall not bore you with it, and I have decided to give American Gothic another chance and just TOTALLY IGNORE DOCTOR BILLY because Lucas's hair is so shiny and pretty and must be watched. Also Hyde was in it! And Lucas totally kicked his ass which means Lucas is cooler than Hyde, oh my God! In fact, I think I shall go buy mince pies and then go home and watch it Right Now. So good day to you, sirs!

Thief Lord porn! With Princess Bride references, no less. Liam Neeson loves me, yes he does.

Watched Master & Commander this evening; I'd forgotten how much I adore that film, even if it is basically Tom Pullings' wet dream. The jokes, my God, the appalling yet hysterically funny jokes. Stephen being a pissy little bitch. Ickle Midshipman Blakeney, aww! The sealion that says "Argh!" Jack slagging off whalers in front of the head whaler dude. Poor, sad Tom and his unrequited Jacklove. Killick's cantankerous mutterings. Random appearence by a hobbit. And did I mention, the jokes? I thought I was going to die during that last scene; poor Stephen is handling his disappointment remarkably well for someone who is, as previously mentioned, a pissy little bitch, and Jack has to go and make that remark about flightless birds not going anywhere - it's hil-fucking-hairy-house, as we used to say back in college,

The following things are true:

Vests were not invented in 1812.

Lindsey has an Angelus-like evil alter-ego. Fortunatly, he only comes out to play if Angel ever returns Lindsey's feelings, which we all know is less likely than James Marsters appearing on television ever again.

Billy Boyd is at least 80 years old.

Angel is not fat.

At least one of my brothers is evil.

David Boreanaz is a strange, strange man.

The comparisons between Saiyuki and Angel the Series are spurious at best.

Sanzo and Angelus have nothing in common. Angelus (as far as I know) doesn't wear bondage gear under priest's robes. Also, Sanzo is a lot grumpier, doesn't speak in an evil Irish brogue and the chances of him having a nun fetish are fairly low.

I am, however, willing to buy the Kougaji/Lindsey and Gojyo/Spike connection. Though Kougaji is too tall to make a good Lindsey.

Lindsey is the Tom Pullings of the Angelverse.

FAKE 7 has an adult rating for a very good reason. It should also probably not be read in one's local Starbucks, due to the risk of shock-induced choking.

Angel's power resides not in his puppy-dog eyes, pointy hair or socially retardedness, but in his white vest.

Everybody loves young boys in kitty ears.

Stephen Maturin is the Hemulen from the Moomins.

Snufkin is all.

I hate moths.

My City Drive tat arrived today - obligatory band t-shirt and some cute little badges. Also included was a signed picture of the band, which is spiffy and stuck on the wall next to my autographed Tom Felton photo.

Today is the second day of Hexmas, known as Blakeneyday. To celebrate, Hex has given me a new icon to wear. Huzzah!

It's far too hot here. I have my feet in a bucket of iced water. Fucking summer.

Bought Peter Pan 2003 on DVD today. Woo! Boy-molesting fun for all. Though Peter is approximately 70% less molestable than Blakeney, this is only because Blakeney has broken all existing records for molestability. Patrick O'Brien, Max Pirkis, guy that did the casting on M&C: I salute you.

Did men wear socks in the Victorian days? Just a thought.

Continuing on the Sherlock Holmes vs the Scarlet Pimpernel debate, who would freak out faster:

Holmes when faced with a flirtatious Marguerite Blakeney, or the Pimpernel when faced with a flirtatious Watson?

Answers and death-threats on a postcard, please.

I'm feeling talkative today.

Jason Issacs would make a kick-ass Sherlock Holmes. Mmm, caustic. Now all I have to do is cast the other characters, steal a script from someone, kidnap a film crew, hijack a studio and bribe, blackmail and otherwise cajole my actors into working for me.

Also, the Scarlet Pimpernel's name is Lord Blakeney. Okay, it's Percy Blakeney and he's got two arms, but still, it seems everyone's favourite midshipman has famous relatives.

I have two seminars tomorrow and have done work for neither of them. Let me see: European law vs the Scarlet Pimpernel...

Maybe the Scarlet Pimpernel can kidnap my lecturer for me. She's French. That would be neat.