Friday, 30 January 2009

Well shit

So, t-shirt hell are closing down as of the 10th of February.

Don't get me wrong, I wince at some of the t-shirts in between bouts of manic laughter. That's the point. But when I read through his reasons for shutting down (which seems to boil down to "despite being hugely successful even through the economic crisis I'm sick of people complaining about my deliberately massively offensive slogans") I can't help but want to slap him. I mean, honestly, what did you expect?! T-shirt hell designs seem carefully crafted for maximum controversy and offense. Why the hell run a website devoted to such gloriously terrible taste if you don't consider the whining of your detractors candy and rainbows?

RIP t-shirt hell. To everyone else, hoover up your cheap shirts while you can.

Monday, 26 January 2009

A short poem about rain

There's a hole in the sky where the rain gets in
And its drumming on the ground makes a rhythmic din
And puddles like mirrors, with other worlds in.
But only I can see them.

Saturday, 24 January 2009


So, squeezing toothpaste from the middle of the tube. Long has it ranked up there with leaving the toilet seat up in the catalogue of inconsiderate spouse / partner / housemate / guest habits. But I ask - why?  

I squeeze from the middle of the tube. But not one knows this! This is because I squeeze from the middle of the tube then shut the cap and then scissor my fingers at the bottom of the tube and push up, squeeging all the paste back to the top. I say this not to point out what a great considerate toothpaster I am, but rather because I catch myself thinking, this process takes under a second. How, the toilet seat thing I understand, having been unfortunate enough a few times to stumble sleepily into the loo and sit down into the toilet bowl when someone's left the seat up. But pushing toothpaste to the top of the tube? No sweat.  

In short - judge a person not on how they squeeze.

Tuesday, 13 January 2009

30 Days of Night

So I finally watched this on Saturday. On the whole I enjoyed it, nice and escapist be, because it's more straight forward gore than creepy mind-fuck it didn't even have to hiding under the covers (as a general rule I'm not a horror genre person, haunts me too long).

One thing really annoys me. No real spoilers as this is the concept of the film, but at the beginning it is the last day of sun before the 30 days of night that come with an Alaskan midwinter. I am aware these exist for plot reasons, but almost the whole of this scene setting annoyed me intensely.

Let us start with the most base, glaring issue. Simple celestial physics, the same the world over. There would be no 'final day of sun'. It wouldn't be anyone's idea of a day. The sun would peek over the horizon at mid day, decide against it then disappear again in a fleeting haze of orange glow.

This alone put my teeth on edge for the entire opening phase with everyone running around in the final long long hours of sun before it sank down for the last time in a month like some hibernating squirrel. The contents of these final hours however were equally frustrating however. The very final plans, the closing up of everything, the mass exodus of everyone who'd been fine with a month of less-than-an-hour-of-sun suddenly evacuating all at once, the idea that days shortening down to nothing at all somehow grounds every plane. I mean really, "I missed the last plane for a month"? Sure, I forgot planes can't fly in the dark.

All this boils down to is the idea of a town that goes from a normal days and normal activity before being plunged into a magical annual phenomena of not simply 30 days without sun, but rather 30 days of 4am, suspending it in a time bubble where everything is closed waiting for the sun to rise in three hours' time.

Once I got over this though? The body of the film is good fun.

Monday, 5 January 2009

Brass monkeys

So I believe the technical term for today's weather would be 'fecking freezing'. I woke up this morning, bleary and surprised, to find the ground spangly with three inches of fresh snow. This was at once astoundingly pretty, and astoundingly inconvenient, as the British transport system is not designed to accommodate inclement weather and instantly grinds to a screeching halt.

Still, I did eventually get in, for an extended day of a glorious ten-hours. Whoop. I have started drawing at my desk in between calls, and while none of it is exactly worthy of scanning, it is at least practice. One of the troubles of not drawing for an extended period, is you kind of forget how to.

Once there is something worth showing I shall dig the scanner out.

Sunday, 4 January 2009


First post! And what a dangerous game it is, making a blog again after a long, colourful, slack history of having such a thing and never staying focused long enough to stick with it. For anyone wishing to witness my previous attempts at such a thing, see my livejournal in all its patchily updated glory.

Ooo, sunbeam!