ITEM: Back in a post in June of 2011, I noted that at some point in 2013 I would probably publish my 1,000th review, and I’m happy to report that that milestone has been passed (I was asleep at the wheel when it happened, back in Black Static #34).
Those who share my love of synchronicity and serendipity, will be as delighted as I am to note that, as per the June 2011 post, I reviewed 336 titles in the first 23 issues of Black Static and a further 218 in the 12 issues since, because 200 is two thirds of 300 and 18 is exactly half of 36, which as everyone knows is the combination that gives you the secret handshake of the Illuminati.
I am a made man.
ITEM: Staying with the subject of reviews, when I used to review magazines for The Fix I believe that I always mentioned any review sections that they contained if it was a significant part of the content.
Tony Lee, Mike O’Driscoll and myself provide anything up to a third of the content of each issue of Black Static but all too often I see reviews of the magazine where we don’t even get the courtesy of a name check.
It is my considered opinion that reviewers guilty of being so remiss where their own kind are concerned are class traitors, and when the revolution comes they will all be rounded up and have fountain pens shoved up their nostrils until their brains explode out of the back of their heads and splatter on whatever wall they happen to be stood in front of.
I have a long memory and a black, unforgiving heart.
ITEM: So, a new lady friend is coming over for the evening to watch DVDs, eat and drink, just hang.
You’ve hoovered and dusted, hid the porn mags and DVDs, let the air out of the sex doll and put her back in her box and the box at the back of the wardrobe.
And then, as you take the new lady friend on a room by room tour of the desres, you notice the box of Man Size tissues stood in a prominent position by the side of the bed, and so have to spend the rest of the evening faking coughs and splutters in the hope of convincing her that you suffer from really bad hay fever.
ITEM: Staying with this theme, it wasn’t a date as such, but if it had been then I wish it to be noted that Zach and Miri Make a Porno would have made a really lousy date movie.
I haven’t seen a woman shake with laughter so much since the last time I asked The Imaginary Girlfriend to stop being imaginary.
If I’d snuggled up closer and attempted to put my arm round her it would have been like riding one of those bucking bulls they have in the Kylie Agent Provocateur ad (I’m sure they have them elsewhere, but that’s the memory that sticks with me).
ITEM: I haven’t received any post all week.
Either the Royal Mail have gone on strike and not informed me, or suddenly nobody wants to send me stuff, not even those crappy offers for cheaper broadband and solar panels.
ITEM: Yesterday a friend’s day out was ruined when the coach driver took a wrong turn and got them stranded in traffic for three hours.
Today another friend had to bail on a day out as her daughter was ill and my sister phoned to let me know that she’d be coming home from holiday a week early as her husband had put his back out.
It feels like fate has me in its sights, but hasn’t quite got the range as yet.
See what I did there?
Took mishaps in the lives of friends and family, and made them all about me.
It’s the first step on the road to voting Tory and believing that Iain Duncan Doughnut isn’t the Anti-Christ.
Fortunately I have caught myself in time and shall take preventive measures before there is any further deterioration of the moral fibre.