Other people's grief -it's pornographic.

Yes, another tangent from Being Human one.

George says this to Mitchell regarding his listening to the aftermath of his (Mitchell's) nasty time.

I got to wondering why he was listening to it. Self flagellation, or EvilMitchell still in there, enjoying the chaos? Oh, for the nice simple days of Buffy when Angel either had a soul or didn't, with appropriate levels of evil occuring. All this uncertainty makes me feel all angsty.

Anyway, then I started thinking about actual humans and their/ our actual response to real, human grief as played out in the world today. Specifically with regard to the reaction to the news of the man who murdered a toddler 17 years ago being put back into prison for breaching his parole.

George is right.

It's emotional pornography.

The shelves and shelves of cryography, national outpourings of grief and or rage, the witch hunting... it's vouyerustic and it's moral vampirism. There is almost a Daily Hate of that which is designated "other." People can't watch the news because it makes them cry. (Srsly? How cruel of the earthquake victims to look all ravaged and hopeless, don't they realise that empathy HURTS?) People post details about the horrific murder of a child, and claim that it isn't salacious, oh no, people need to KNOW. Jezza enjoys daily outpourings of disgust against a snaggle toothed tracksuited underclass, egged on by millions of viewers, all with one single purpose - to feel that they are BETTER THAN THEM. Facebook is covered in badly spelled, insane ramblings of psycho nutjobs, which get thousands of followers who unthinkingly say YES, I am FOR this, therefore I am AGAINST that, and anyway, peeedowls/ rapists/ estate agents/ teachers/ traffic wardens/ whoever has attracted ire this day should be strung up/ knocked down/ killed in unpleasant ways/ sent to live on a desert island and eaten by fire ants.

*breathes.*

I am scared of humans, they are weird.

The Big Chill, Being Human again, and Mog.

I am indoors. I am wearing 5 layers of clothes, a hat, socks, crocs. The heating is on. It is FREEZING. How is it that my landlord is the only person in the Northern hemisphere to have totally failed to notice that insulation is A Good Thing? I am tempted to light the fire, but Smallest Goblin has an entertaining new habit of Putting Things In The Fireplace, so I sense flamability.

So, shockingly enough, I have been thinking about Being Human some more. I want (and this is an actual order, Auntie Beeb,)

• A boxed set of series one and two, including the Pilot and all the prequels.
• A book of all the scripts, in a normal book size, none of that coffee table book rubbish
• A book about the mythology of the show - look, you've had 2 seasons, surely somegeekybody has collated everything? Buffy had a book like that after ONE season.
• John Mitchell.

I hate myself for being so blooming predictable. It's as if the producers said, "here, here is a dark and brooding leading man for All the geek ladies to love." And as if my magic... SQUEEEEE! Wrong, man. I should be in love with George, or Herrick, just to confound their clever predictions. But no. It is dark, slightly scary on a bad day, beautiful John Mitchell that I love. Damn it.

I have been reading Mog in the Dark with the Goblins. It is an excellent book, but I have to read it in the voice of Bill Bailey. Try it and see. You cannot do otherwise.

See that? Two consecutive days, two blog posts. I'm on fire! Well, at least smouldering. Actually, the brass-monkey temperature in here means that flames are unlikely. Let's just say I am writing a blog. Laters.

Here's a thing. I forgot I even had a blog. All the time I read other blogs, thinking, gosh, I'd like one of those. And here I had one all the time! Shame I have nothing to write in it.

So, what do I have to share with the world? Not a huge amount generally. There is the ongoing saga of my heroic battle with the Infestation of Evilmice (bigger, scarier and generally more evil than your common or garden mouse.) The foster cat, named Mrs. Squeak. The fact that Honey The Special Needs Collie just got her paws stuck in the top of the garden fence. I think Spring is here at last.

I must concur with friend and fellow blogger Minnie from Talesfromthecanalside. Being Human is the best telly since Doctor Who. I don't watch TV much, aside from Brainrotting Time, I mean Cartoon Network. But occasionally something grabs me, and Being Human has done that right from the off - I watched the pilot episode and was hooked.

It's an amazing show. The suspension in my suspension of disbelief has never so much as creaked. The writing is clever, but also moving and true (maaaan). The actors put so much soul into their performance. There are lots of shades of grey, good and evil are not so much descriptions as arbitary labels, and I LOVE that. I think there might be a teeeeeeensy little atheist agenda, (the scariest baddies are the fundamentalist Christians) but I find myself able to cope with this with eqanimity. I like my heroes flawed, and in Mitchell, George and Annie we have a very, very human trio of foibles and weirdness. (I will not use this blog to have a go at Another Vampire Story, but seriously - sparkly perfect Mormon Meyerpires vs sweaty conflicted on-the-wagon gore-fest Mitchell = NO CONTEST.)

The best thing - and the thing that qualifies BH for entry into Geek Hall Of Fame - is that it stays with you. I want to know more. I want to know Everything, but everything. The producers are helping me with this with the wonderful online prequels and character blogs, actual genius I call it. They should probably write some books, as long as they write them well and don't annoy me by being shit.

The worst thing is that I have large patio doors and if I forget to close the blinds before watching BH I then have to approach them sneakily, lean in at a contorted angle and reach across a table to pull the blinds without the werewolves/ bad guys seeing me and coming in to kill me. True.

That is all. See you in six months, probably.

Gosh cor blimey.

I forgot all about this blog.

I've remembered now though. Jolly good.

Now, it's been nearly a year since I last posted. You would think something interesting would have occurred in all that time, wouldn't you? Well, pretty much nothing much has.

Been some places, done some stuff, appear to have accidentally developed a career (HOW did that happen? I am clueless.)

Mind you, being management does give one a bit of a lust for power. I am already cultivating a mustache (essential for dictatorship) and developing a new salute.

Post-Disney feminism.

AAAARRRRRRRGH at the Disney Princesses.

WHY. Just WHY are they all so WET? (in the 1950's sense, and obviously literally in the case of Ariel.)

I want to see a Disney Film in which the princess sucessfully sues the Beast for wrongful imprisonment and sexual harrassmant, or outs him as a shoe fetishist, or just SLAPS him.

THen she could go on to have a blindingly successful and dazzling career as a doctor, lawyer, or indeed, electrician.

I wanted to watch Harry Potter.

Blimey.

My second day as a blogger, and I have not one original or useful thought. What a dreadful start.

Part of this is because I did not start the day with John Humphries, as I slept in and had no time. I am sure he missed me though.

So I am missing vital brain nourishment from the beginning. WOE.

Chatted at the school gates, possibly actually losing IQ points through my own inanity.

Went to EVIL MULTINATIONAL SUPERMARKET and sacrificed some of my principles at the altar of Convienience and Cheapness.

I looked at the papers, thinking of getting one, but all of the front pages mentioned Diana, and my brain was threatening to bleed from the repetition. So no paper.

And now, at home, I have bought some nose-rings on Ebay and am currently enjoying The Little Mermaid for the 849278452885th time.

I would like to say that normal service will be resumed as soon as I have had some intellectual stimulation, but I have of course not yet established a norm. Maybe this IS the norm.

Perish the thought.

Chicken Pox.

I can play dot-to dot on my son. Not kind, but amusing.