now hands that do dishes can feel soft as your face...

i am a late developer

i lost my dishwasher virginity last saturday night when, after our first evening of entertaining guests, g. led me to the one nestled wantonly in the corner of our kitchen and demonstrated how to it fill up, put in the little tablet (not the first little tablet he's introduced me to, of course) and turn it on ....

what a revelation it was - a washing-up epiphany of life-altering proportions

but, of course, with the discovery of something this pleasurable so late in one's life, comes the bitter regrets of missed opportunities - as woody allen said in 'a midsummer night's sex comedy', there's nothing worse in life than a missed opportunity

we had one for six months in the robertson quay apartment in singapore, where its mysterious inner sanctums remained wrapped in plastic like laura palmer, but without the carefully applied make-up, or an army of cryogenically stored cybermen awaiting reactivation in a patrick troughton-era doctor who story - and there it still remains in cellophaned stasis to this day as neither of k.'s tenants has used it over the last two and a half years

we also had one in our apartment in kansas city - to think i spent three months scrubbing pots and pans every night after we finished our evening meals...

alas...what could have been...

more sydney pics

click on the pic and then click on 'slideshow' option

Sydney Week One

at last, another posting

i think that the initial burst of blogging enthusiasm has finally burnt itself out, even though i have the same amount of time on my hands in sydney as i did in kansas city - it's an unfortunate tendency of mine to expend a lot of time on the initial phase of any new project i undertake and then after a period of a month or so my enthusiasm tends to wane somewhat

so i have nothing much to report, just some general observations

the temperature here carries on climbing - 35 degrees c today

we've been quite shocked at how expensive this place is to buy food both in shops and when eating out - the prices here are comparable with london - fortunately the food in restaurants here is much better than london

loading pictures onto this blog takes forever with our wireless modem

australians are far more like the brits than americans are - this however may just be the effects of living in a big city and the toll this has out on its inhabitants

tv here sucks - even more so than in america because in the usa there were at least some very funny and imaginative tv commercials - thank the lord for american and british imported programmes

i have revised my opinion of the beaches here - we went to bondi a couple of weekends ago and it was beautiful - the sea with its three or four different shades of blue, the near-white sand of the beach and the craggy sea cliffs forming the curves of the bay - we walked around the cliffs and there was another beautiful beach and bay - and they go on and on....

unfortunately our apartment was in the wrong place to see the fireworks at the opera house that concluded the final of australian idol last night (yes it's as crap as the x factor in the uk and american idol) - the harbour bridge got in the way, although we caught some of the refelcted light in the windows of the skyscrapers surrounding the opera house - i think it'll be better on new years eve when the display takes place on the harbour bridge itself...

our first day in sydney, 9th november, 2006

at sydney airport after our 23 hours of travelling


the view from our balcony - prime viewing for the new years eve harbour bridge fireworks display


at milson's point railway station opposite our apartment


my elation at being back in the queen victoria building again


the amp tower - a cheaper view than the harbour bridge walk


a walk in the park near elizabeth street




some familiar oxford street signs

interpreting signage

...in the uk we use the less emotive term, 'children with special educational needs'

going to the harbour, darling

so now we have wireless broadband thank goodness – i never thought i’d come to rely so much on the internet for personal entertainment as i have done over the last three months

got back into the daily routine over the last few days with one change - breakfast takes place on the balcony with the latest pd james while i watch the trains and cars pass over the harbour bridge and the distinctive biege and green passenger ferries cross the bay from circular quay towards the little luna park docking jetty before they head off to darling harbour - the occasional giant container ship sails up the bay to dock in the harbour - yesterday it was one from stockholm, probably full of cute blond scandinavian merchant seamen (i won’t make the obvious pun there because i’m a nice clean-living country boy)

on sunday afternoon we walked down to the jetty and caught the ferry to darling harbour - the harbour was, of course, named after the oldest child in the darling family in j.m. barrie’s classic play, ‘peter pan’ - hence the expression ‘wendy boat comes in’ (thou shalt have a fishy on a little dishy) - and talking of fishies, we were shocked that our favourite seafood restaurant, ‘nick’s’ in darling harbour, where we often used to hook up with friends for lunch and where we intended to eat that afternoon, had put the price of its seafood platter for two up to 125 dollars - scandalous - so we wandered around like lost boys looking for somewhere to eat that didn’t cost an arm and a leg (or a hand) – but as i got quite alarmed by the thought of eating exotic dishes such as crocodile and the time was tick-tocking away, we headed towards market city in chinatown - enough with the ‘peter pan’ references already...

looking at the hawker style food stalls with their signs advertising dishes such as nasi lemak, popiah and laksa, i welled up a bit as it was the first real reminder of singapore i’d had in 2 years

we walked around chinatown for a while commenting that sydney’s is the biggest one out of all the chinatowns we’ve visited outside asia, and the most authentic in its atmosphere - like a cross between singapore and hong kong - then we tried to remember which street citysteam 357 was on and how to get there, but we couldn’t dredge it up from either of our murky memories of the more sleazy establishments in the city - i’m sure we’ll eventually relocate it and spend time there at some point over the next two months - if memory serves me right it's the only place of its kind that has two sizes of towel...

it's great to be back (again)

the jet lag hasn’t been too bad - i’ve felt like collapsing at about 5.30 in the afternoon over the last three days but this passes after about half an hour of sticking pins under my fingernails and toenails to keep me awake and I’ve been sleeping through most of night, although I seem to be visiting the toilet about 50 times during the wee small hours (and when i say wee, i mean it in both senses of the word) - funny that…I don’t recall drinking a small reservoir at any point over the last few days - k. was up at about 5am this morning and yesterday, clicking away on the computer - the tiredness during the day doesn’t seem to affect him at all, the little hyperactive swine - today is his first day at work and he headed off for a meeting at circular quay bright and breezy at 7.30 this morning, leaving me in a state of semi-consciousness with bags under my eyes that closely resembled our, as then unpacked, luggage

looks like we’ll be spending a fortune on wireless broadband - after two days in internet cafes we’ve realised that we’ll actually spend more money in these places than if we get a home broadband connection - but it’ll be a lot slower than we’re used to and time will have to be carefully rationed - how uncivilised

our apartment block is slightly to the left of the harbour bridge, if you’re looking at it from the south side of the bay, and just a few minutes’ stroll from the waterfront - we’re on the 12th floor and from the balcony you can see the bridge on the left, the view then sweeping right inshore, past circular quay and darling harbour and then over the wooded northern suburbs, with the water in the bay dazzling as its small choppy waves reflect the intensely bright sunlight during the day, which also shines on the white sails of the yachts anchored in the lagoon below us and on the planes which fly across the stretch of cloudless light blue sky from the north, the qantas logo clearly visible on the tail sections of many of them as they make their descent towards the airport - looking down there is a small amusement area on the waterfront with a ferris wheel and a rollercoaster with single carriages racing up and down and around the tracks, accompanied by the gleeful screams of teenagers and kids - it’s called luna park and looks very pretty when it’s illuminated after dark (as the pet shop boys sing, ‘in luna park it can’t be dark too soon’)

last night there was an unexpected fireworks display somewhere in town and we stood in the twilight, looking across to the skyscrapers and towers on the south side of the bridge, the twinkling lights from the moored ships and boats and waterfront buildings reflecting in the edges of the dark water lapping against the quaysides and rocky shorelines of the bay - we watched the multi-coloured explosions of light over the cityscape, with k. snapping away happily on his samsung - I felt like putting on handel’s music for the royal fireworks and sipping champagne, but i had to make do with diet coke instead

on saturday we took the train from milson’s point, over the bridge and into town, where we did a ‘refamiliarising ourselves with sydney’ walk, taking in all our regular haunts such as the ornate queen victoria building, which I love - not only is it a fine example of victorian architecture, it also houses the abc shop with its fine selection of brit tv dvds - we took photos of the imposing amp tower promising that this time round we would go to the top to take in the views, then we crossed over to the main pitt street shopping area where, courtesy of virgin mobile, k. felt more at one with the universe again after getting his mobile phone connected - in the park on elizabeth street we took shelter under the trees from the scorchingly hot afternoon sun - on a bench near the classical-style fountain, with it’s statues of mythological scenes such as a naked muscle-bound theseus slaying the minotaur, we watched saturday afternoon wedding parties posing unnaturally for stilted photos and giving wooden performances for obligatory videos

in oxford street it was good to see that one of our favourite singapore chain restaurants, the japanese fast food joint, yoshinoya, had opened an outlet - i had one of their large beef bowls, my first one in over two years, and enjoyed pleasant thoughts of singapore - we sat outside eating our food, with occasional exclamations of ‘i can’t believe we’re back in sydney yet again’, which is our mantra whenever we are back in sydney yet again - the usual oxford street parade passed us by - tight-clothed gym bunnies, mincing twinks, campy queens talking too loudly, guys cruising for like-minded individuals to hook-up with for sex, couples of all persuasions holding hands and kissing, scary-looking homeless people smelling of urine and talking manically to no one in particular and early party-goers, decked out in a variety of fancy dress costumes with garishly-coloured wigs, heading off for the first drink of the evening

we walked past places which have a special significance for us – betty’s soup kitchen, where we were once forced to seek refuge when we accidentally got caught up in the pushing mardi gras parade crowd a few years ago, unwisely trying to cross oxford street in the wrong place to get to a friend’s apartment for pre-party drinks - taylor square where we would meet up with friends to walk to the mardi gras party at fox studios, ‘in bed with madonna’-style, singing ‘holiday’ - the site of the old oxford hotel (no longer there) where we would mix with the harbour city bears on their friday night social - king steam where we would sometimes sleazily end up after a night out on the town, or before a night out on the town - the midnight shift video bar, where we would watch a crowd of tough looking men’s men suddenly throw their butchness to the wind and dance with gay abandon and high campness to madonna and kylie - a restaurant halfway up and behind oxford street where i spent a pleasant evening having dinner with i. on his first visit to mardi gras in 2002 - an evening which stands out in my memory as the first time i’d actually had a proper conversation with him since we’d met five years before - i am quite reserved with people when i first meet them, but that one must be a record even for me

so we’re in sydney again, but this time for two months instead of the usual week - it will be interesting to see if i’m still as fond of this place by the end of december as i am at the moment having just arrived

arrival (not the abba instrumental)

i'm in an internet cafe on oxford street - it's five o'clock in the afternoon and i've now been awake for over thirty-six fucking hours

left kansas 7.00pm on thursday night central standard time - got into los angeles three and a half hours later - left for sydney two hours later on a fourteen hour flight

i hate qantas in a way that's difficult to put into words - narrow seats, limited legroom, terrible in-flight movies and progs, lousy food, etc.

arrived at 9.00am sydney time and cleared customs with no hassle, which was a pleasant surprise for sydney airport

arrived at the milson apartments where we are staying just the other side of the harbour bridge from circular quay - the north side - nobody was there to let us in, no key, no arrangements appeared to have been made for our arrival and we had no phone - we sat in the lobby for about an hour and a half while k. borrowed a phone to make some calls

when we finally got to the apartment it was very nice - the view is glorious - we're on the 12th floor and the living room and bedroom look out onto the harbour bridge the bay, circular quay and darling harbour - i'll put some photos on when we've got all the stuff up and running

we headed out for lunch and in an effort to stay awake until at least ten o'clock tonight, got a train over the bridge into town where we've spent the afternoon walking around, getting a mobile phone account and trying to get broadband, which has proved to be impossible, so we'll have to make do with internet cafes from now on unless we can leech from an unsuspecting wireless user in our apartment block

we were proud of the fact that it was a full seven and a half hours after our arrival in sydney before we ended up on oxford street - that must be a record for us

departure no. 3

goodbye america

it's been fun

don't know when i'll see you again...

under sheltering skies

we've been impressed by the cloud formations over missouri and kansas - click on the image to view k.'s album...

Trip to Central Missouri

indian summer

how queer

there are no green leaves left, the trees are now almost bare with straggling clumps of russet, purple and yellow clinging to their lower branches, giving them a strange half-dressed appearance



over the last four weeks we have had sleet blown by bitingly cold winds, thick freezing morning fogs, below zero temperatures and layers of ice, which we've had to scrape off the car as we shivered under our four layers of clothing

this morning i stepped out and a blast of warm summery air hit me and it was hot enough to sit by the pool again wearing just a pair of swimming shorts - this evening we had to turn on the aircon

it was the strangest sensation to walk at five o'clock in the afternoon through falling leaves with the late autumn sun setting, accompanied by the chirruping of crickets, silent for a month now, and instead of the customary chill cutting through the thick material of jacket and coat, feel the warmth of a balmy early summer evening through a thin t-shirt

it's almost as warm as the night we arrived here three months ago in the humid warmth of a late summer lightning storm

an eventful period, or how we got to where we are now...

i feel the need to record this for posteriority lest i go senile and forget everything at some point in the near or distant fuchsia (my grasp of vocabulary is already fading as you can see) - these last four years have been quite hectic

we packed today in anticipation of our imminent departure on thursday - now we can enjoy our last two days without our usual frantic shoving things in cases at the last minute

i had the same feeling packing to leave singapore two years ago and packing to leave london in august - i can't fully describe it - it's a kind of low feeling i always get when another chapter of my life draws to a close - it's not sadness or regret - it's the same sort of feeling i get when i look back at old photos or videos taken at different stages of my life that make me realise that the way i was as a person, the every day routines i followed, the people, places and everyday objects that played such a big part in my daily life and seemed so solid and unchanging at the time, all these things are transitory - it's a feeling that with every change you lose something of yourself

it's strange i should feel this way as my life has been so transitory over the last three years - from the beginning of 2004 to the end of this year i will have lived in six different places and the year preceding this period was fairly unsettled too as 2003 started with the death of our friend rob in singapore at the age of 33, followed a few days later by the sars scare when singapore almost came to a complete halt and our work routine was disrupted for months afterwards - it was also the year we had a house guest for five months, our friend rick from melbourne, and the year we started exploring the newly opening gay bars that seemed to be springing up all over the chinatown area - not to mention the cruising clubs and saunas that suddenly started appearing as singapore seemed to spend the first half of the decade loosening up a bit - as k. was working for singhealth at the time and was heavily involved in the administration and the tracking of people during the sars period, pulling long working days, he often felt in need of unwinding in the evening and i think we had an unbroken run of three to four weeks where we were down at the fledgling backstage bar in chinatown every night, sipping our double house pour bourbon and cokes and eyeing up the clientele as they minced or bounded in

during that year we were also preparing to leave our goldhill apartment, the one with the gorgeous uninterrupted view over the only area of primary rainforest left on the island, and move into the robertson quay apartment, which was being built all the way through that year - i recall that time as a blur of furniture shops and the tap tap sound of simulated footsteps that accompanied k.'s virtual interior design computer program as you moved the viewer around the inside of the simulated apartment you had created

we always refer to that period of time as k.'s premature mid-life crisis - in the last five months of 2003 he gave up smoking, had a rather unwise nipple piercing, got lasic eye surgery and started working out at least five times a week at the california gym on orchard road - he had already taken out a mortgage on his flat and applied to a number of business schools both in singapore and abroad - i was in the throes of shedding 70 pounds on the atkins diet and getting a great deal of pleasure at the california gym perving at all the young guys in their skimpy gym kits as i jogged along on the treadmill or lifted weights on machines which i swear were modelled on spanish inquisition torture contraptions (well nobody expects the spanish inquisition!)

k. told me the other day that this sudden burst of life changing fervour probably stemmed from the fact that at that time he felt he was treading water and needed to take affirmative action - i had already passed through this point with my job after i realised that we would at some point leave singapore as part of k.'s career - so by that time i was just enjoying the easiest job i'd ever had and making the most of life in singapore while it lasted

we'd been in the new apartment at robertson quay for a month, after an 18 month wait for the building to go up, when k. accepted an offer to go to london business school to do his long-awaited mba - so five months after moving out of our old apartment, we were moving out of our new one - five months later again, after i had moved in temporarily with our friend a., and said my drawn-out au revoirs to singapore, i finished my final contract and joined k. in what we now affectionately call our pokey little baker street flat - thus began our 20 month sojourn in central london and my teaching experiences in those wild and whacky inner-city schools

which brings us round to august 12th and my first posting on this blog entitled 'leaving' - you can go back to the beginning and read on from there....

the art of s & m (revised)

i again dedicate this posting to two friends in old london town - w.k. in finsbury park and d. in e.c.1 - i've re-posted it as there's a video to go with it now - hope anybody who may be viewing all these random clips has fast broadband...

...Another familiar type of lovesong is the passionate or fiery variety, usually in tango tempo, in which the singer exhorts his partner to haunt him and taunt him and, if at all possible, to consume him with a kiss of fire. This particular illustration of this genre is called The Masochism Tango.

I ache for the touch of your lips, Dear,
But much more for the touch of your whips, Dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

Let our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say it's me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

At your command
Before you here I stand,
My heart is in my hand. Ecch!
It's here that I must be.
My heart entreats,
Just hear those savage beats,
And go put on your cleats
And come and trample me.
Your heart is hard as stone or mahogany,
That's why I'm in such exquisite agony.

My soul is on fire,
It's aflame with desire,
Which is why I perspire
When we tango.

You caught my nose
In your left castanet, Love,
I can feel the pain yet, Love,
Ev'ry time I hear drums.
And I envy the rose
That you held in your teeth, Love,
With the thorns underneath, Love,
Sticking into your gums.

Your eyes cast a spell that bewitches.
The last time I needed twenty stitches
To sew up the gash
That you made with your lash,
As we danced to the Masochism Tango.

Bash in my brain,
And make me scream with pain,
Then kick me once again,
And say we'll never part.
I know too well
I'm underneath your spell,
So, Darling, if you smell
Something burning, it's my heart.
Excuse me!

Take your cigarette from its holder,
And burn your initials in my shoulder.
Fracture my spine,
And swear that you're mine,
As we dance to the Masochism Tango.

The Masochism Tango - Tom Lehrer
(An Evening Wasted With Tom Lehrer: 1959)

random pensieve-like deposits

what a great thing this blog malarky is

like a diary it's a message to posterity but a lot better because it's a repository of things you've done, places you've been, music you're into at that particular point in time and things you've watched and want to remind yourself of when you look back at it in a year or two or ten

now when random thoughts pop into my head, i can just dump them in here - rather like dumbledore's pensieve in the harry potter books

satisfying cravings

i have very satisfying cravings and i enjoy satisfying them at our favourite coffee place in kansas city, the crave cafe

see the photograph of me entering said cafe to extinguish aforementioned cravings



this place is cool in that laid back, slacker, pot-smoking, studenty fashion, but without the mess and the cannibis - and the graffitti in the toilet is refreshingly free of the usual pornographic drawings and comments you tend to see these days - they go for the old classics here such as, 'don't throw tooth picks down the toilet as crabs can pole-vault'

so here i am satisfying my cravings with a hot chocolate and a rice krispie marshmallow block, made in the same way as chocolate rice krispies, the krispies being mixed with melted marshmallow and then left to cool and set - scrumptious - note the big dollop of cream on the hot chocolate and then you'll see why i've put on weight yet again...



it's a cosy little place on two floors, the upstairs where we never venture being set aside for smokers (presumably of tobacco) - it has three little rooms leading into each other from the serving area, each with its own comfy, sink-into sofa - sofa so good, i say

we usually get our respective drinks and marshmallow blocks and make our way to the front part overlooking the road where we sit on one of the comfy sofas - the view from which is something like this...



we've spent hours here over the last few weeks, sipping coffee, chewing marshmallow and crunching rice krispies and discussing weighty philosophical problems and interior design - all to the soundtrack of american indie bands which play in the background

we got quite melancholy yesterday as it was our last visit - they were playing one of my favourite american indie bands from new york, interpol - a retro sounding group influenced by the likes of joy division, kitchens of distinction, etc

we drank our hot chocolate, took these pictures, remarked that we'd both put on weight over the last three months, despite our best efforts at the gym, said our goodbyes and drove home through the twilight streets lined with trees shedding their brown leaves onto the road

goodbye crave cafe - it's been 'awesome'

it's that time of the month again...

ah megawoof - how we miss you - our first weekend every month club night in sarf london where we would shake our collective booties till six in the morning along with many of the larger and muscled shirtless gay men of the uk and europe

this time of the month always sets us off pining for that sweaty, crowded dance-floor with its pounding dance remixes and pumping, grinding eye-candy

you should be able to spot us in this pic which appeared in a may edition of 'boyz' magazine of all places - as the photographer took this, k. and i were slap bang in the middle of the action...

what good is sitting alone in your room...

our favourite place of entertainment in kansas city has turned out to be a cabaret bar halfway down main street

i've been to a lot of cabarets over the year but bar natasha i think is unique - k. and i first visited it a few weeks ago on some friends' recommendation - we went expecting the usual gay-oriented show tunes cabaret with a tranny compere - so we were pleasantly surprised by the difference we found to other cabaret bars we've been to - as we walked in we saw a large bar room with a circular stage in the middle of the room - a flamboyantly dressed grand-dame was seated at the grand piano on the stage playing in an equally flamboyant manner befitting her bohemian dress with occasional flourishes which reminded me of one of my old piano-playing infant school teachers but without the purple rinse - singing along to this accompaniment was a very powerful disembodied voice - we couldn't figure out where this voice was coming from and assumed that for some strange reason the pianist was playing along to a recorded voice - however, after the piano lady sang some songs of her own, which puzzled us even more that she would also play to a recording, the disembodied voice struck up again - at this point we were seated directly opposite to the open plan kitchen and after a couple of minutes we realised that the singer was the chef - there she was preparing food, opening cupboards, chopping and mixing, and all the time powerfully belting out a song a la liza minelli

it was then we realised that all the waiters and bar staff had radio mikes over their ears - they all do a turn either on or off stage and as they go about their serving duties, they also do harmonies and choral singing from wherever they are in the bar - you don't interview for a job at this place, you audition - the cabaret sections with the co-owner, missy koonce, were also excellent - she's very funny and belts out show tunes and pop songs linked together with an amusing line in patter with the audience, who are told off big time if they don't join in the songs loudly enough

it was a halloween-themed show which climaxed with a rocky horror show finale with all the staff up on stage doing the time warp and an enthusiastic audience on their feet performing the dance actions



one of the best nights out partly sober i've had for a while- an experience to rival wednesday mambo jambo nights at zouk in singapore for entertainment value

random rant

curses!

just as we're about to leave america, i've finally mastered the art of pouring a small amount of milk into a mug of tea from a full gallon bottle without spilling any

ah, life, what cruel tricks you play on us post-lactarians - what other dairy-themed conundrums will you hurl my way...?

in anticipation of leaving

yesterday we started our last full week in kansas city before flying to sydney next thursday, 9th november



it's been a fun time but we're both ready to move on - k. because he's champing at the bit to do some proper work and me because a change of scenery will be good, and it's the final stage on my return journey to singapore, where, hopefully, i shall resume work - this event will in turn lead to far less postings on this blog of mine, to which i have been devoting far too much time for lack of alternative stimulation - i'm rapidly approaching my half-century posting within a month and this cannot be healthy - i should be travelling in the footsteps of lewis and clark, the great explorers of this region of kansas and missouri over a hundred years ago (before they went to work at the daily planet and clark started dressing in blue and wearing his underpants on the outside) - however, the freezing cold near zero temperatures make this a rather unviableproposition - instead i should be reading all the history books i bought and re-acquainting myself with alfred the grate, norman the conker and edward the turd - but do i? no i don't - instead i'm in the advanced stages of vegetative lethargy, so sydney, with its better location for our apartment , its better public transport system and compact city centre, is a very attractive proposition right now


not that i'm complaining - if i had a job and a car and somewhere permanent to call mine, kansas city would be a great place to live - the people have been very laid back and friendly and there's plenty of entertainment, both high and low brow, to keep you busy - there are lots of great places to drive out to, picturesque western towns surrounded by beautiful countryside and spectacular views, tall grass prairies and rolling hills and wide roads which seem to go on forever

and, then there are the steaks - ah the steaks - i've never tasted meat like it (as the actress said to the bishop) - and let's not forget the ribs - they are barbeque-finger-licking out of this world - this place is an atkins dieter's paradise and it's so cheap to eat out - cheaper than eating in, actually - i suppose that in this respect it's similar to singapore


which brings me back to singapore - at the end of this month i'll have been away from the lion city for two years - it seems strange to think of going back - so much seems to have happened since december 2004 - it's odd that over the last couple of years, i haven't missed singapore or thought about it as much as i believed i would in the months before i left, probably because i knew i'd be going back - although i haven't returned for a holiday there since i left - a two week trip back might have set me off missing the place really badly once i'd stepped off the plane at heathrow

odd that - i suppose i've come to regard singapore as my adopted home

doctor who spin-off is quite good (or 'how i like to obssess about my favourite tv sci-fi show')

(the following post will remind anybody who manages to read it all the way through of what a really sad fucker i am in the very worst anorak kind of way)


we've just finished watching the second episode of the new bbc 3 sci-fi drama, 'torchwood', created by russell t davies, the writer of 'queer as folk' and the man who breathed new life into doctor who last year - it's the second doctor who spin-off, 1981's one-off episode, k-9 and company, being the first



the torchwood institute is first set up in 1879 at the behest of queen victoria at the end of 'tooth and claw', the werewolf episode of this year's season of doctor who - although the queen is saved by david tennant's doctor, she is not amused by his methods and asks for a secret organisation to be set up to guard against alien threats which she names torchwood, an anagram of doctor who - the organisation is referred to in the 'christmas invasion' regeneration episode of doctor who, when the prime minister, against the doctor's wishes, orders the destruction of a departing alien ship that has been holding london to ransom, using alien technology that, along with other alien artefacts, has come into the possession of torchwood over the 100 plus years since its inception

the london branch of torchwood, situated in canary wharf, is destroyed in the battle between the daleks and the cybermen in this year's doctor who season finale, leaving the only operational site, known as 'torchwood 3', in cardiff - torchwood 2 is an administration office in glasgow - the torchwood team is led by the pan-sexual time traveller played by john barrowman, captain jack harkness, who was the doctor's temporary companion for the last half of christopher eccleston's season, left behind by the doctor on a space station thousands of years in the future, presumed exterminated by the daleks but brought back to life by billie piper's character, rose when she absorbs a huge amount of energy from the time vortex inside the tardis - this causes a side-effect which makes jack indestructible - how he got from the space station to cardiff in 2007 will hopefully be revealed during the series' thirteen episodes - the torchwood site was set up in cardiff because of the space-time rift there, which the doctor and rose first experience in 'the unquiet dead', the charles dickens episode of doctor who last year, the rift being partially opened again in modern-day cardiff in a later episode, 'boom town'

the premise of the first episode of torchwood is similar to that of the first 'men in black' movie - a young police woman witnesses the activities of the torchwood team and is introduced to their organisation where she discovers that alien technology is being researched and used (and in some cases misused) by the team in order to investigate and combat alien threats - her mind is wiped of everything she has seen but after further contact with them, she eventually becomes part of the team



the second episode deals with an alien that feeds on energy given off during human orgasms and has to possess a female body in order to have sex with other humans until it is satiated


this series has got off to a promising start, providing a more adult view of the doctor who universe - it's funny and has the same qualities that have made the new doctor who so enjoyable to watch - it will be interesting to see if the character of, gwen, the police woman who is recruited to the team in the first episode is linked in any way to the character of gwyneth, the psychic servant girl who dies during the opening of the space-time rift in 'the unquiet dead' - both characters are played by the same actress

like i said at the beginning - am i a sad fucker or what?

another hero gone

bbc.co.uk:

Quatermass creator dies, aged 84.

Pioneering screenwriter Nigel Kneale, best known for the Quatermass TV serials and films that began in the 1950s, has died at the age of 84. He died in a London hospital after a period of ill health, his agent said.

Kneale's The Quatermass Experiment in 1953 was the UK's first sci-fi serial and created its first TV hero, the alien-battling Bernard Quatermass. The writer, from the Isle of Man, has been cited as an influence by Stephen King and film-maker John Carpenter. The Quatermass Experiment told the story of an alien monster brought back to Earth by a British space rocket.

Robert Simpson, on Hammer Films' official website, said it was "event television, emptying the streets and pubs for the six weeks of its duration". The Quatermass serials paved the way for the likes of Doctor Who. Last year BBC Four broadcast a live remake starring David Tennant and Jason Flemyng. Channel controller Janice Hadlow described the original as "one of the first 'must watch' TV experiences that inspired the water cooler chat of its day".

It was followed by two further serials in the 1950s, Quatermass II and Quatermass and the Pit, with all three dramas later turned into films. A fourth serial, Quatermass, was made in 1979.

Kneale also scripted TV dramas including 1984, The Year of the Sex Olympics and The Stone Tape, which are regarded as modern classics.

His 1954 adaptation of George Orwell's 1984 was so shocking that questions were asked in the House of Commons about the suitability of such material for television.

The Year of the Sex Olympics, made in 1968, imagined a future in which the public are subjugated by reality TV which places volunteers in a remote house and monitors their every move.

Kneale earned two Bafta best screenplay nominations for his film adaptations of John Osborne's plays Look Back in Anger and The Entertainer.

He continued working until the late 1990s, writing The Woman In Black, Sharpe's Gold and episodes of Kavanagh QC.

His wife Judith Kerr is the creator of the Mog children's books.
The couple had two children: Matthew Kneale, who won the Whitbread Book of the Year award for his novel English Passengers, and Tacy Kneale, a special effects designer who has worked on the Harry Potter films.

are you contemplating a new career in singapore?

living in singapore for nearly a decade threw up occasional unintentional sources of amusement - if anybody i know from those days is reading this, then you'll remember some of the extrememly idiotic censorship decisions made by people who were in dire need of an irony transplant - the austin powers 'spy who "shioked" me' debacle springs to mind - or the lady who wouldn't let an episode of the 1964 bbc landmark documentary on the first world war be distributed because it had the word 'hell' in the title - and then there was the amusing divorce case involving mention of oral sex, which is illegal in singapore, the details of the court procedings provided us with a lot of laughs

and so i was amused by this which k. showed me this afternoon (what he was looking for which accidentally led him to this, i didn't ask) - we thought at first that it must have been a 'wiki' hoax, but apparently not:

"World Toilet Organization
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
(Redirected from World Toilet Organisation)

The World Toilet Organization is an organization dedicated to issues involving toilets and sanitation. It is based in Singapore and, as of 2004, includes toilet associations from 17 countries around the world, from Russia to the United States to Australia to Japan.

Every year, the World Toilet Organization sponsors the World Toilet Summit. This has been held in various places around the world:

2001 - Singapore
2002 - Seoul, South Korea
2003 - Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China
2004 - Beijing, People's Republic of China
2005 - Belfast, Northern Ireland

The World Toilet Organization promotes the celebration of World Toilet Day on November 19 of every year. It is also setting up the world's very first Toilet College in Singapore. The first classes will begin in October 2005 and will be held at the Republic Polytechnic."

so if anyone is contemplating a career change soon, now you have an extra option

vikings, unwieldy feats of strength, mobile phones and an abundance of testosterone

k. wasn't well yesterday and sprawled across the sofa with a sore throat (it's very unprofessional of shops to sell furniture with medical conditions)

his suffering was temporarily alleviated by 'the world's strongest man' on mid-morning tv to which he was soon giving his full attention - funny that - for some reason the 'homes and gardens' channel suddenly lost its appeal for a while - so we spent half an hour watching a gaggle of huge scandinavians (plus one american and a five feet three inches tall brit) performing feats of physical strength and endurance such as towing lorries with their teeth, balancing boulders the size of houses on both of their pinkies and conceding defeat to superior displays of strength by slapping each others' man boobs in that manly bonding way which definitely does not betray the slightest undercurrent of sexual attraction - guys who closely resemble the incredible hulk without the green tinge but fiercer looking, with muscles in places that most of us can only dream of, pumped so full of steroids that if their urine samples were immediately injected into a team of young athletes today, they would still fail the drugs test in the next london olympics - these muscle-bound heavy weights exude so much testosterone through their pores into the air that any unfortunate female standing within breathing distance would be shaving off a five o'clock shadow by the end of the day

at the end of the contest, the winner jumped into a swimming pool, grunting and clasping his hands over his head, later telling the interviewer that his girlfriend would be so happy with his victory - at this declaration k. and i looked at each and burst out laughing, with cries of 'you're not kidding anyone but yourself, honey'

scandinavia seems to produce a lot of these bulging-out-of-tight-lycra-in-all-directions powerlifters - must be due to the healthy outdoor lifestyle and all that clean air (and the fact that it's such an expensive place to live that people have to make their own entertainment using cheap natural resources such as logs and breeze blocks) - these men's men all have names which sound like the viking kings of england who kept overthrowing the saxons before the normans invaded and made us all french - sven jorickson, jorick svensson, magnus johansen, johaness magnusson, erik svenson, sony erikson and mobile phonikson - i can imagine them running naked through the snow to jump into super-heated pools of natural spring-water, without the need to worry about the sight of their genitalia shrinking in the cold air because all the supplements taken over the years of training have already shrunk their individual manhoods to the size of a baby carrot and two petit-pois

it reminded me of the only time i've ever been on steroids when i contracted epstein-barr virus* a few years back and a power-lifting colleague advised me to go back to the gym and start on the heavy weights (the ones in the gym, not the ones reclining in the steam room with towels loosely draped over their groins) - i don't think he knew that the disease causes extreme fatigue and incredibly high and low mood swings and was the reason that barbara windsor took a year off eastenders when she contracted the condition - so now, in addition to a saucy laugh and big boobs, babs and i have something else in common - now i should go back to london and form dubious friendships with psychotic east end villains who love their mum and nail their associates heads to snooker tables

* the e.b. virus was named after the beatles manager, brian epstein, as he was the first to notice the symptoms in his loveable mop tops, the first known and most famous victims of the disease, which many experts believe they picked up in the crowded, germ-laden environment of liverpool's famous club, 'the cavern' in the early sixties

this condition led to the recordings of some of their early classics such as 'twist and shout', inspired by john lennon's painful reaction during his endoscopy, 'please, mr postman', recorded while the boys were waiting for the results of the medical tests, and 'from me to you', their first uk number one, often mistaken as a love song, but really a clever, knowing reference to the virulent spread of the virus

last week's competition...

congratulations to the young lady from singapore, who for publicity reasons shall remain nameless, for her estimate that there were over 60 titles of pet shop boys songs and albums scattered through last saturday's posting entitled 'my october symphony'

a goody bag of hi-tech sex toys, bondage equipment, wind-powered breast enhancements and a lifetime's membership of the international nude jello wrestling association is, even now as i write, winging its way to your rubber-walled playroom, and very soon you will be strutting down orchard road wearing your porcelain vest and automatic self-igniting boots, lubed up and ready to take on the those hordes of jostling kiasu bargain-hunters at the takashimaya pre-christmas sale