Author: James Aylett

Like, over my fraking head – the flash and the bang went off almost simultaneously just now, although the thunder rolled around a hell of a lot longer, so maybe I just made up the lightning and in fact I’m being bombed.

I quite liked this, until I noticed the original, which isn’t as pretty but is a good deal clearer. Anyway, if any of your condiments have expired, you now have no excuse.

(Originally via Megnut.)

Look, if you’re not watching Ze Frank already, I don’t think there’s hope for you.

Hi,
Hope I am not writing tao wrong address. I am nicea, pretty looking
girbl. I am plannbing on visiting your town this month. Can
we bmeet each other in person? Message me back at ttmo@globalmobpost.com

---

Well, “ttmo” (or “Allison”, as your totally different email address claims). Much as I am a sucker for a good “girbl” (I assume you mean “gerbil”), especially a Nicean one, I generally fall short of bmeeting people, at least until I know them a little better. What are your views on neo-imperialism? Can we overcome selfish tendencies to form a unified democracy? What exactly did we lose in the Council of Rome? Is Sarah Michelle Gellar cuter than Alyson Hannigan?

These are important questions. But not, perhaps, quite as important as: what the bloody hell can you possibly gain from sending me this email? I’m not stupid. I’m not insane. What do you actually expect me to do that will benefit you at all?

(And finally, for the geeks among us: why on earth did you send this as text/plain; charset=”us-ascii” and then specify content-transfer-encoding as 8bit? What is that supposed to mean? What are you using the eighth bit for? Is it spying on me?)

I’m rewatching the first series of Battlestar Galactica, so here are my top tips:

• in a life or death situation, try looking up
• the blondes only feel like they’re more trouble
• my evil twin is coming to get you

Thinking about it, much the same holds true for Twin Peaks.

I joked to Paul on Friday that the internet was full (it’s actually Owen’s joke, or at least I got it from him). Today it really does feel like it’s true. Almost no one is blogging anything; the BBC is, well, dull (although you have to love the article title Rice holds key talks in Lebanon). Where has all the vibrant activity gone?

Is it a holiday in America or something?

The one good thing I’ve discovered today (while trying to figure out why everything is so god damn quiet) is Arbor Day, and in particular their beautiful little article which is today’s Tree Basic. “I need very basic instructions on how to plant a tree.”

Bless.

At times, James was hallucinating it, but frankly I think at times so was Sue Perkins, myself and indeed all of the LBC listeners. More radio should be that bonkers – and James still managed to pull off a callback. (The download of the show isn’t available yet, so you’ll have to wait unless you were able to tune in yourself.)

A callback for me alone was watching Twister tonight (I slipped, okay?), because it has Jami Gertz, who was of course in The Lost Boys – which Sarah Bee and I talked about at length last night. Apparently Twister was the first movie released on DVD – it must also have been one of the last Amblin films, because The Peacemaker (the first Dreamworks picture) was released the following year. (I have a freaky memory for this kind of stuff.)

Strangely, this isn’t the first time I’ve played chase-the-reference with Twister; I did it about seven years ago, back in a younger, simpler world, when I ran my blog on software I’d written myself because there wasn’t anything else, and nobody called them blogs anyway because it was a stupid name. (The note on IMDb has gone from Joss Whedon being an uncredited writer to his name having appeared on an earlier draft, neither a surprise with Jan de Bont directing, a bit like Alan Ruck turning up; and you can feel Joss Whedon’s punch to some of the dialogue, even if a couple of the jokes have blatantly had the middle ripped out.)

To be honest, it would probably be dangerous. But I too want to know what’s in Condoleeza’s satchel.

The BBC have an article on blogging figures, mentioning that the majority of people use their blogs to talk about themselves rather than, say, politics or culture or celebrities. Hey, we all do it. Nothing contentious there.

But then they have a little survey: “Is blogging journalism?”, they ask. And you can answer “Yes” or “No”. Not, you notice, “Sometimes”. Which suggests that they didn’t even bother reading their own article, let alone the report they cited.

Bloody BBC.

I wrote an entry last night, on the way back from James and Adam’s bipolar show, but the internet ate it somewhere around Hitchin. On the plus side, you’re spared what I remember as a largely unwarranted stream of vitriol about the kid sat opposite me, who I took against largely because he was writing in big loopy handwriting.

But then I was drunk; I’m allowed to be irrational when I’m drunk. Now, of course, I’m hung over – and all ready to do it again tonight. Oh, what fun. Maybe I’ll have to stay in London this time, because James and I have to be back here again on Saturday morning for a radio interview on the Jenny Eclair show on LBC. Except that according to her blog she’ll actually be being played by Sue Perkins. Perhaps I could also be played by someone else; let me know if you want to take a swing at it so I can stay in bed.

Then we have to be back here (not just “here” as in London, but “here” as in about five minutes from the office) for another interview on Sunday night, for BBC 5 Live’s Up All Night.

Do listen to us, as we struggle to stay awake, remain witty, and persuade more people to buy the book. (Ignore the fact that Amazon don’t list my name on the book’s page – I’m in their system, they’re just sulking for some reason.)