When a fan goes to the effort of arranging an event at BAFTA for Flash Gordon, it’s just rude not to attend.

Lisa Downs recently went to the trouble of arranging a fantastic night for fans of 1980’s Flash Gordon with fantastic results.

Lisa, a filmmaker, decided to arrange the night when she saw just how much Sam J. Jones and Melody Anderson had to say to each other over dinner one night – a conversation she was privy to due to the work she has put into creating her documentary Life After Flash. (more…)

Today I’ve been digging in to a pretty awesome blog.

I’ve –  on and off – been doing this whole Forever Living thing. Have you heard of it? Perhaps not. Allow me to summarise the Cleanse 9:

• Breakfast is three tablets, a couple of shots of chewy evil (aloe vera gel), and loads of water.
• Snack is a sachet of fiber – dissolved in loads of water.
• Lunch (for two days) is three tablets, a couple of shots of chewy evil, and loads of water.
• Dinner (for two days) is two tablets, a couple of shots of chewy evil, and loads of water.

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My Grandmother had been 15 years old when her grandmother refused her offer to make the tea – a refusal that saved my nan, but killed her grandmother.

That fateful evening, the air raid sirens gave warning of the overhead Messerschmitts. Nan’s uncle Chris Appleby had the torch, and her gran refused Nan’s offer to make a cuppa because of that torch: “No, you don’t know where the bucket is because I’ve lent Chrissy the torch.”

So Nan stayed in the lounge with her mother. That was the last they saw of the Appleby Matriarch, Edith. (more…)

Men – for centuries, this gender has held exclusive rights to calling women everything from harlot to bitch.

Nietzsche once said, ‘All of us live in the “Prison house of Language”; if it is the prison house, then the question is who made the prison. It is man-made, constructed by male dominance.’ (more…)

What does it take to get an invite to a party at the local County Jail? Driving drunk and naked will do it. (more…)

Jezza, I miss you already.

The BBC has announced that they have let Jeremy Clarkson go following the investigation conducted by Lord Tony Hall. (more…)

Yesterday morning I woke up with a yawn and a stretch to brilliant sunshine and a dog on my head.

I proceeded to do what every Norman does: I had a shower, fought over the electric toothbrush with my significant other, and returned to the bedroom to get dressed.

The sunlight brought with it this level of warmth that screamed: “Thou Shalt Not Wear a Jumper!” And so I didn’t. I dressed for the weather.

Mistake No. 1: Forgetting that I live in England. (more…)

It seems oh so very long ago, and now it’s something you only read about in the classics. A man would set his sights on a woman and it was pretty much assumed that they would marry and have kids, the whole caboodle.

Far more recently, romance entered the equation. A man would show up at his date’s door with a bunch of flowers, a box of chocolates, who knows what. He would take her out for dinner, they would make polite, possibly awkward small talk, the night would end with maybe the gent walking his bird (“lady friend”) to the front door and offer a polite handshake or a goodnight kiss. Following the date there would either be a massive nothing or the flowers, the occasional phone call, more dates, yadda yadda, blah blah.
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