Archive for June, 2014



*Now insert feline…



Should you be wondering, the cat’s name is Sargent…um, Sargent Chocolatefudgehammer…fist. Okay, that’s not true.


Onward with the mirth!


So I’d only gone and bloody done it. I’d gotten drunk. Now I’m a big boy. You’ll soon come to realize that wasn’t my finest day ever and what makes it all the more tragic and pathetic is I bet most of you guys had gotten slaughtered way before your eighteenth birthday. Up until then I stubbornly resisted the lures of alcohol and all that came with it. But as adolescence spread like genital warts (never had them, just added it for comic effect) so did irresistible urges. These urges came in the shapely shape of women.


**Interjection – I’d like to take this opportunity to place the blame for every daft thing I did on that fateful night squarely on the shoulders of womankind. After all, you were the driving reason I forced myself to get drunk. It’s your fault, not mine

How can I blame you? What do you mean how? Are you mental? How else do you think I could have mustered up the courage to actually speak to one of you? Jesus, back then the very thought of talking to a girl/woman was enough to have me looking for a place to hide. Yep, you guessed it, I wasn’t the most confident kid ever. Confidence or not confidence, I was on a mission!


The beginning the night dragged so slowly I regretted going. Things changed quickly – far to quickly if I’m honest – when the half dozen rum and cokes I’d snaffled took effect. My loosening inhibitions gained attention from another group stood on the other side of the birthday hall. At that point I can still remember fragments of the night. Smells, tastes and what little sounds I could make out over the booming, monotonous house music. Invitation or not, It seemed the other group weren’t so happy with us being their. I didn’t care, mind, I was having fun trying to dance/stay upright. Thank god mobile phones with cameras weren’t about back in the early 90’s or I’d have ended up of chuffing YouTube for sure.

I’m not sure if the hostile looks continued as by now I’d graduated from rum to anything I could lay my hands on. I even had a drag of a cigarette. One which I proceeded to stub out on the palm of my hand; smoking is a dirty habit.


By now you’re most likely wondering where do cats and paper planes come into this. All in good time, my minions, all in good time.


Early that evening the group made acquaintances with one of the guy’s parents who’d kindly agreed to allow all nine of us to crash at theirs.


Apart from the odd flash back, I can’t recall much of what happened. It turns out I’d made myself look like a complete chopper and the next day my friends happily told me all about it. Oh well, you live and learn, right? One of the successes to come from making an idiot of myself in public was I’d charmed a member of the fairer sex. I’m not exactly sure how it happened but I’ve a feeling pity might have been an overriding factor. Oh, and I’d been involved in a drunken punch up. No harm done, mind, save a chipped tooth and a bit of a lump.

However, I dare say if my mates hadn’t dragged me sulking from the clutches of the aforementioned young lady, I’d most likely have ended propping up her patio, or involved in another fight. No, home was most likely the best solution. So back to my friends we all staggered.


Without getting disrobed, why would I, it’s wasn’t my house, I settled down. Shortly after I awoke busting for the toilet. Well, I say shortly but truth is I had not idea what the time was but due to it being dark outside, I figured it to be not long since when I’d sat down.

In my drunken state I tried to rationalize how best to tackle my bladder. I had no clue where the upstairs toilet was and I really didn’t fancy tripping over some comatose drunk only to let go of my dignity and soak their carpet. So, I gave up on that idea and not knowing if they even had a downstairs loo, I headed for the back garden. Boll*cks!! The frigging door was locked. My befuddled brain struggled to comprehend my predicament and under intense pressure I searched for the key. No joy. Turns out the key was on a hook by the back door… Obviously at the time I didn’t know that and in a last ditch effort to avoid pi**ing myself, I quickly emptied the sink.

I know how gross this sounds but I really had no other choice. Anyway, after relieving myself I spent a moment washing the sink out with fresh water before stacking the dishes back in. Alas I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought because one of the others that was sleeping in the front room said I’d pretty much woken the whole house up with my crashing about. At one point he thought I’d fallen asleep in the kitchen because I was running the tap for so long. Ahem, um, I was resting my eyes…


Cats, where are the cats!?! Wait for it…


Everyone of the group that went out were apprentice chefs and after a long day in the kitchen, getting drunk and fighting I was feeling somewhat tired. So wearily I trudged back to my comfortable armchair bed and slumped back heavily.

Note, while I’m not built like a Russian shot putter, I weigh now, as I did then, a stocky, well set 90+kg. I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong; I didn’t break the chair. But what I did do, and in my defense I had no idea the family had a cat, was to sit back with such force I folded said moggy in two and shoved it down the back of the chair. Again I feel compelled to jump to my own defense and state that I’m pretty sure even before my robust backside met the soft cushion, I was fast asleep and should I have some how seen the cat, I wouldn’t have been able to abort.


I imagine what the cat must have thought as it watched me stumble back must have gone something like this.


“Ha, so long sucker. On you go. Looses weepers, finders…Jesus Christ, I’m gonna di…”



The first I knew about the cat was the sensation something was under me and trying to get out. Completely and utterly confused I shifted my weight from one buttock to the other. Kind of like you do when you’re about to break wind. The room I gave the cat must have been enough for it to pluck its head from between its legs and set about attacking my posterior. Feeling something bite and claw my backside, I quickly rolled further to one side. This allowed the cat the to escape and in a flash it vanished to the safety of upstairs.


To this day I don’t know how I didn’t kill the poor thing. Hell, I don’t even know what it’s name was. Spartacus, I name it Spartacus!!




I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire… Guess the quote!


PS, I now no longer drink – your cats are safe.




Am I a productive writer? No, sadly I’m not. Hell, I’m not even sure if I am a writer. If you ask me to categorize myself I’d say I’m a charlatan with a one dimensional imagination.

Okay, even I don’t truly believe that but I get incredibly frustrated at my inability to get down the ideas that whiz around my head daily. Part of my problem is I expect, no, I demand flawless perfection without the need for drafting, editing or proof reading. I know this is beyond me and most likely beyond most writers but it doesn’t stop the demands. I can’t find an editing happy-medium and the thought of doing so thought fills me with Dredd. The reason is simple. I never, ever stop thinking. Okay, those that know me well know this to be the truth but those older friends or on the outside most likely think I’m talking s**t.


A friend of mine said when we were having a conversation about my grammar obsession, ‘It’s not like you’re trying to write a master piece, is it?’

I looked at him and said, ‘Dave, I am though. I want to write something to be remembered.’ 


As you’ve noted by now, my punctuation isn’t very good but it’s far better than it was.


Is it okay to blame being dyslexic, having ADHD and being born a blue baby? I suppose it is but to what end? It’s not like stamping your feet and bemoaning ones situation helped anyone much. Anyway while the above ‘conditions’ might answer some of my dilemmas, I refuse to let them win. Okay, so my attention span is unbelievable short, but I have to make do with what I’ve got. If I’m candid I see my main problem as I have a organic writing style. What does that mean? Well, the term ‘organic writing style’ I borrowed from the aforementioned friend when quizzing him about his writing methods.


This is how it works.





I’ll have an idea. I have dozens a day and always when I’m in the bath or doing something that stops me writing it down. I have to write them down or I’ll forget them. With that idea I expand it depending on the theme, notion or mood I’m in. From their I build complexity, I humanize it and set scene after scene to give it life. Before I know what’s what my supposed flash fiction short story could now be a bloody trilogy of novels. In short I find it hard to control myself – oh er…


For example. A while ago I was watching sky and an advert for a computer game came on. While I wasn’t paying any great attention to it, I was sort of listening. I heard a word that immediately triggered my imagination into over drive. While this may sound daft, it’s the truth and happens allot.

The word was lathe as in the machine you’d find in any given metal working factory. Regardless of the words mundane nature my mind was by now racing. With a sense of panic I immediately began searching the net to track down this game in order to satisfy myself that I wasn’t plagiarizing someone elses work. The notion a sci-fi game would band about such an innocuous word like lathe seemed absurd but I had to check. In the two days it took me to track it down I’d already started creating a fantasy world setting.

To date I’ve almost finished writing a fantasy role playing system complete with a pantheon of gods and enough lore and plot to fill be a fair few novels. All this from one miss-heard word. Can’t be bad? No, it isn’t and I love creating and using my imagination. It’s just I wish I could suspend it when it comes to editing work already done. Rewriting isn’t fun and when all I do is rewrite I find my enthusiasm being sapped quickly.


I know what you must be thinking and you’re right. I…am…a…spanner. As a kid I spent a great deal of time inside my own head and I was considered a bit of a Muppet. Speaking of Muppets, I always wanted to be animal! I digress…I do still spend too much time inside my own head but to be honest I enjoy it and yes I know at my age I should know better but…


My organic thought process works well when developing an idea or playing chess but I feel it hinders me when trying to complete a project. I can imagine anything from nothing but ask me to write said story and I’ll tie myself in knots. Surely this means, and I fear it does, that I’m not a story writer, I’m a script writer? Who knows.




Incidentally the word I miss-heard was sword, not lathe. However, my Laethe is chaos engine set in motion by the All Father to rectify the mistakes he made in the past. The Laethe, cut from his own flesh is an abomination tasked with scouring the planet of all traces of life.


So, has anyone got a different angle that might help me render my wandering, ever changing mind calm so I can finish the stuff I start? Also, I challenge you to put my imagination to the test. Throw me an idea and see if I can’t make something of it?


Ps, ten ungowa points to those that recognized the Judge Dredd link!


Live, love and prosper, my minions.




You Know Nothing, Davey Stone.


Made me chuckle. Daft as a brush…a Guybrush Treepwood…

Simplified Sci-Fi…




Right, I’ll kick this chapter off by saying sorry. Sorry? What on earth have I to be sorry about? Believe me, you have NO idea… However, I’d like to take the time to assure you it has nothing to do with: excessive flatulence (I’m gluten intolerant, I tell you!!), cow tipping (The fuzz dusted that bovine for prints but no evidence was found – result!!), purple Hermans (It’s an extreme nipple twister.), laziness (Okay, maybe sometimes.), playing TOO many video games like world of tanks, Dayz standalone and Dayz Epoch mod (Okay…ALL the time.), my staggering levels of childishness (Bottom…) or even my frequent and often profane outbursts (Bull s**t. Like f**k do I swear that much, you P*i*ks.)


Nope, it’s none of those.


***Honesty leak alert!***

Okay, okay, I am extremely childish and sometimes prone to being bone idle but what can you do when you look this good with Speedos on your head? That, mind you, is another (fictional) story for another time.


No, what I’m sorry about is the inevitable typos and other f**k ups are sure to happen. We’ve all been their and know the score. Yes, we’ve all sent a garbled, completely incomprehensible text message that appeared to have been typed with ones forehead. Yep, you guessed it, this blog comes via my mobile.


Right, now the dumb f**k disclaimer has been posted, I can continue.


The purpose of this blog is to bring to light what I see as sci-fi being stripped of all complexity in order the crayon eating masses don’t burst a vein trying to figure out what they just saw. I believe it’s devaluing the genre.


In one corner you have Blade Runner. This didn’t need CGI, hell no, why would it when the plot and performances within this masterpiece make this, for me, an classic and the pinnacle of sci-fi film production. Blade Runner is without doubt my favorite film of all time.




Following Blade Runner I submit the original Alien film. Mother of god that was a good movie; hell, it still is. Can you remember the feeling of complete claustrophobia Diddly Squat (Ridley Scott) created? It was terrifyingly awesome. Okay this was a later film and owed a great deal of its success to special effects but the effects didn’t undermine and over power the story.



Lastly on the winners podium I give you…Inception!!! Smash my face in and call me Janet, this was a staggeringly good film. Leonardo Dicaprio might for some reason annoy the crap out of me but by god he’s is a fantastic actor.




The depth of story is most evident in Blade Runner and Inception but all three films allow the viewer to somewhat make up their minds on how it ‘ended’. True enough their is only one correct ending  but I love the process of getting to that conclusion. I see it as a challenge to my intelligence and my creative mind. ***STOP*** A challenge to my intelligence and creative mind! What the f**k. I sound like a complete knob. Oh well, it’s true, I love my imagination to be taxed and tested. As my friends, I always find imaginative ways to f**k things up and new insults to hurl at them.


So, what is watering down Sci-fi, I hear you cry aloud? Well, here is a list of while not entirely bad films but films that make you go ‘hummmpf’ once it’s finished tying up all the loose plot lines so you don’t have to think anymore.


Oblivion…this wasn’t such a bad film and Morgan Freeman played his typically strong suit as a supporting actor. I liked the premise and the idea was sound but when it finished I was completely underwhelmed.




Next comes…Edge of Tomorrow. Again this wasn’t bad but it wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination good. Their was sooooooo much more they could have done with the film. When will those that stump up the cash for these films realize CGI effects can’t engage like a well written plot can/does/will. Again the premise of the film (although it was thin in places) wasn’t bad and the concept was sound, it left me feeling unsatisfied.





Okay, time out! Before all you Scientologist mentalists start hating me, I’m not simply bashing good old Tom for the sake of it. Honestly I loved minority Report. True it was because I spotted it was a Philip K Dick story a mile off rather than Tom’s acting, although he was pretty good in it. Hang on a second! Is Scientologist word/real religion? Hell, is it even a religion or a simply a mindset? Wait, maybe I should have looked this up bef…ahhhh f**k it, no one reads this s**t anyway.


Christ, it’s not like I said the movie After earth, staring another famous American scientologist, was so bad I contemplated wrapping my belt around my testicles until I passed out, is it? But After Earth was complete s**t, mind.




To finish to my mind a great story or brilliant acting is far more memorable than any special effects. No one will ever quote a computer generated image as readily as they would a stellar acting performance. I wait patently for the day where a director marries a great story with the best actors and uses (sparingly) the most cutting edge technology. Wow, imagine that…it would be frigging awesome!


Lastly… I’ve a bath to get into and I could rant and rave but to what end? Films are subjective and we all have different tastes. Despite that if you don’t like Blade Runner (David Lee Stone!!) then you’re a silly sausage who spends too much time clapping to himself while wearing his pants on the outside and whooping like a peacock.


Peace, my minions.