January 14th, 2009
|05:14 pm - TORCHWOOD/BOOSH fic (PG) |
Title: Bongos in the Hub part 1 of 4
Fandom: Torchwood/Boosh crossover
Rating: PG-13 (this bit PG)
Word Count: total about 10,000 plus some artefacts
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Howard Moon (Ianto/Capn Jack Harkness, Howard/Vince Noir)
Spoilers: Ties in with Boosh Series 3/Torchwood Series 2/Doctor Who Series 4 (Journey’s End). But no major spoilers.
DISCLAIMER: Neither The Boosh nor Torchwood is mine. But wheeee! Loadsa fun!
Unusually for me, this is all complete and written. No unfinished stories this time!
( He’d called it ‘just business’, but there’d been no mistaking the way he perked up… )
October 2nd, 2008
|05:56 pm - Boosh show, Dublin|
I went to see the Boosh live at the Olympia Theatre, 16 Sept 2008
( my write-up )
September 23rd, 2008
|12:23 pm - British Comedy: A Guide|
1. If you’re a man, dress up as a woman. If you’re a woman, dress up as a man. This never fails to get a laugh.
2. Then talk about arses. A lot. If you’re an upbeat sort of character, mention the vast number of other people’s bottoms in the world, and how you find that a very nice thing indeed, seeing that you personally have access to some and/or many of them. If you’re downbeat, mention that time your arse was fiddled with, and complain that you received no financial remuneration in return. Or indeed even a thank you note, even though you’ve been sending them Christmas cards every year since.
3. Then criticise George Bush. This is because he is a gift, seeing that our own politicians are very boring indeed.
4. Then say something shocking, like how ten minutes ago you were whacking off…
5. …to a picture of a small, fluffy kitten. And now show the picture of the kitten. The kitten is almost unfeasibly cute.
6. Now they don’t know whether to be charmed or disgusted. They go, “Awww!” then laugh in their confusion. This is great, you haven’t really said anything really funny, and they’re laughing anyway. You win!
7. Next engage their sympathy by telling how your girlfriend left you…
8. …for another woman. Or if you’re a woman, it’s your boyfriend and he left you for another man. If you're somewhere inbetween, you got left for a black disabled single parent racist transexual Jew. It’s like everyone has rediscovered that minorities are funny this decade.
9. Oops, you’ve got some time to fill! Quick, some observations about daily life! Ooh, that daily life. Frustrating, isn’t it?
10. And finish with an encore. This is where you pretend to leave the theatre, and then don’t. If you did this in the morning at home, you'd only get mocked for having forgotten your wallet/bag/phone/trousers. Done on a stage, the same behaviour becomes worthy of worship. Oh, you tease! You get the biggest round of applause so far.
11. And then it’s over.
September 8th, 2008
I just had some Dutch relatives visiting. We took them out for a meal, which was nice.
But then, I just couldn't seem to stop them saying, "Yah, whore!" to the waitress.
It only means yes, of course (ja, hoor), and I know that. But the waitress didn't know, and oh boy, I cringed. And they kept saying it to her. Repeatedly.
Normally, this is like my own private joke. It's extra funny when it's a Dutch person talking to their mother. They keep replying to her - "Yah, whore!" And they're saying it to their own mother! That's so bad!
Okay, I know it's not for real, but it shocks and amuses me every time.
June 30th, 2008
|08:55 pm - LOVE|
Julian Barratt, sucking titz in public. Purple, funky titz that emanate from the head of another man.
This is why I love him.
And here he is being an entirely unconvincing sailor. <3
June 1st, 2008
|06:55 pm - Barking monsters|
In the last few weeks, I’ve been discovering the computer games of Murtaugh, also known as Mateusz Skutnik. The guy is a kind of genius at them.
They’re similar to ‘trapped in a room’ games, except you’re not trapped in a room, you’re in a city or a park or in a shipyard and you have to go around and look at everything to solve the game. But the puzzles aren’t the real point of it. That’s a sop for the adult parts of our minds, the part which demands a clearly defined goal.
The real joy of his games is simple exploration. One series in particular, ‘Daymare’, which is drawn in simple black in white sketches and winds through an old European city centre, takes me back to when I was a kid, and I used to spend hours meandering hours through the never-ending maze of the local housing estate. It’s very atmospheric and slightly scary. There are many shadows. There’s that same sense of the ordinary and the unexpected mixed together, and you never know which you’re going to get next. Then there are sudden, frightening surprises, like when a scary monster jumps into your path (our estate was filled with big barking dogs, I remember). And there are the objects lying all around just begging to be examined at more closely, perhaps even picked up for further investigation, even things that might not seem so promising at first, like old coins, stones or bits of string. Because kids will drag the most unlikely things around for miles. I certainly did. Just like in these games where you have to pick up branches, odd bits of metal or dirty bits of cloth far before any need for them has become clear.
So these games are very similar to that wonderful, scary part of childhood. A part that many children are perhaps being denied today.
And at the end, as in all these type of games, when it's over, you escape. And you leave that world behind.
As I said, the guy is a kind of genius.
Current Mood: contemplative
May 29th, 2008
|06:43 pm - Sex and selling|
I was watching an entirely junk piece of telly recently. In it, a young teenage girl had to make the difficult intellectual decision whether to go into glamour modelling or not. Oh, and while we're at it, there's a euphenism for you. Because lying spread-eagled and icy-nipped in an improbable position so men can get their jollies off to it at a later date - why yes, certainly my definition of glamorous.
Anyway, the most interesting part of the documentary was at the end. The girl hadn't seem to grasped that once she stepped into the world of 'glamour' modelling she could never go back to the 'commercial' modelling she'd already been doing. And she'd been a pretty successful child model so far, buying herself a horse, a car, clothes, and lots else. She naturally assumed, as many others would, that doing the topless shoots, going that step further and selling out would bring even more money. But nuh huh. As the glamour models she talked to told her, there wasn't much chance of her making a living at it out of the many trying to do so. After all, there's thousands of girls on the net who'll take their clothes off for nothing. So how are you going to compete with that? The key, they told her, in being successful, was not in baring all but in keeping herself exclusive.
I find these same kind of assumptions when I tell people about my writing. "What do you write about?" they say. "Well," I say, wondering how to put it, how much they can take. "There's a lot of sex in it..." And sooner or later they're telling me I should try to sell my stories. That sex sells, and there must surely be a market. They wonder why I'm sounding so reluctant.
I'm not quite sure either. Perhaps because I din't include the sex in my stories so that I could sell it. That sexual exchange was not a commodity. I meant it as a gift.
May 28th, 2008
|06:37 pm - Trapped In A Box|
Trapped in a box, can I get out?
Over the last few months I've become addicted to 'room escape' computer games. These are where you're stuck in a locked room and have to solve a few puzzles before you're finally let out. You have to figure out what's required of you from the items around - water a carniverous plant, who in turn bites a horse, who in turn kicks the door in, or something like that. Some games require larger leaps of logic than others.
I've tried shoot-em-ups, puzzles, item hunting and many more, but 'room escape' is pretty much the only type I'm interested in. I think it's because it mirrors my own situation so closely. The victory, the escape at the end when I finally break free, it's so delicious. But before I know it I'm searching for another room to be imprisoned in. What a sucker.
It's not just me that's trapped in a box. I mean, I am physicially here in my front room. But I think most people are in some way, metaphorically. That might be an added reason why they're so popular, embodying the amorphous yearning that I'd guess most people feel. The feeling that they're trapped, and there's something else out there, just out of reach. That's the sort of thing that religion and the Church used to tap into so well.
But it's not such a bad thing, this being trapped. It's like in Beauty and the Beast. When the Beast escaped his enchantment and transformed back into the Prince, for a minute it was beautiful. Then, with the Prince, the story was ended. There was nowhere to go. And I wanted the Beast back all over again.
To be trapped and to feel it strongly isn't so bad.
May 27th, 2008
|03:12 pm - sadly mistaken|
I just received this letter from Channel 4:
"We are making a new, prime-time series of the hit TV show "Come Dine With Me"... This hugely successful C4 series follows four strangers, all budding chefs, as they take it in turns to try and prepare the best meal, be the best host and hold the best all-round dinner party for the others... We are filming soon in YOUR area and we are looking for people to take part. We have specifically sent you this letter as we believe you could be just the sort of person we are looking for."
They are sadly mistaken.
In fact, I am so far from the sort of person they are looking for that they would have to really try quite hard to get it much more wrong.
1. I don't cook. And I'm so far from being a 'budding chef' that a nice lady from the government comes in every day just to make my lunchtime sandwiches.
2. As for having myself filmed and broadcast on national television - well, the phrase 'I couldn't think of anything worse' is bandied about a lot. But you'd have to actually break the Geneva convention against cruel and unusual punishments before anything springs to mind.
I wonder how they got my name and address? I suppose my name must be on a database somewhere. I do enter a lot of competitions (and win them too, hooray!)
May 26th, 2008
|12:21 pm - Thoughts and plankton|
A lot of the reason why I don't write more, or at least in my journal, is a lack of belief in the value of my thoughts.
I think pretty much all the time. I have these great swirling theories in my head and they're very important to me. They keep me alive. Yet I hesitate to put them down, as if by setting them in concrete they'll be somehow diminished. Or more likely, my ideas will turn out to be a lot more rubbish than I thought they were. Perhaps I like their potential more than their reality.
Ultimately it's a self-defeating thing to do. If I don't set down my ideas and make them real, I can never set about honing them, testing them, and slowly getting better at having them. I'll always live in an amorphous grey cloud of possibilities. I need to crystallise them into their true potential, no matter how flawed.
( More, mostly about why I haven't been updating any of my fics because of my lymph nodes )
April 26th, 2008
|03:47 am - Boobies and junk|
I've been too ill too write for the last few days. Pfft to that.
Books I've read instead:
Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage, Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist, Pet Shop of Horrors 7. About to read: Umberto Eco, The Island of the Day Before.
Films on DVD I've seen:
Elizabeth the Golden Age (too much posing and not enough substance), All About My Mother (dir: Almodavar, magnificent storytelling), The Awful Truth (Cary Grant comedy, clever and sparkling), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (fun tosh). Also: Fantabulosa, a BBC drama about Kenneth Williams (SUPERB).
I don't get to do much of either watching TV or reading books when I'm writing, so I suppose illness has its upside.
I still don't like it. Being sick, pffft.
However, I have had the time to enjoy the 'Open Source Boob' wank. I was gratified to see that so many considerate men and women had taken the trouble to argue why this was a terrible idea, and horrifically worded to boot, to the original poster. But on the other hand, all he seemed to care about was that he'd got WOAH A PILE of comments, so it was pretty much a dead cause. Ah, mysognistic internet whores. Two a penny, really.
There was one fantastic upside from the wank. I learnt a new word. I love that!
It was 'junk'. As in - 'men in skinny jeans - their junk must get squished unbearably'.
Never come across that once before. Although, a bit derogatory, don't you think? I mean, compare and contrast. Junk -v- Crown jewels. I know which one sounds the more luxuriant to me.
Then, on the same day, I found this gem - "flaccid junk". (In comments.) And I LOLed so much. So it's not enough it's junk now, it's flaccid too? Come on, surely that's its glorious natural state?
Boobies and junk. Both wonderful. Both sorely abused by the internet.
April 18th, 2008
|09:34 am - BOOSHFIC: Howard Moon, Former Male Prostitute (2/3) (R)|
Title: Howard Moon, Former Male Prostitute Part 2/3 crossposted to BSH
Pairing: Howard/a lot of men, eventually Howard/Vince, also many other original characters
Rating: R, for theme not explicitness
Warnings: rent boys, implied het this part (very slight)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Howard Moon. However, he was a former male prostitute. So there!
Summary: Set in the days before the Boosh. Howard is eighteen and has ended up on the streets.
Part One - If only his first client hadn’t cried / Crossposted to BSH on LJ
( New Part Two - Having to approach strange men every day had given Howard a new, forced sort of confidence )
April 14th, 2008
|09:22 am - BOOSHFIC: Howard Moon, Former Male Prostitute (1/3) (R)|
Damn. I wrote fanfic. Because nobody evaaar writes about this, although it is clearly referred to in the Boosh, and I dearly want someone to write it.
Title: Howard Moon, Former Male Prostitute, part 1/3
By: grrrr, me
Pairing: Howard and a lot of men
Rating: R, for themes
Disclaimer: Not only is Howard Moon not mine, I don't have much idea what I'm talking about. Feel free to point out factual inaccuracies - google can only take me so far in this kind of territory.
Warnings: Oh, so many. Not much comedy, far too many original characters and no beta.
Summary: Howard, and how he became a former male prostitute. Because it's canon. Set before the time of The Boosh. How Howard Moon ended up as a male prostitute, how Bob Fossil found out about it, and where Vince comes into the equation. (Although Fossil doesn't appear until part two, and neither does Vince.)
( Howard Moon Former Male Prostitute part 1/3 )
|05:17 am - Recs: free online computer games|
I've been away from t'internet for a few weeks, trying to get my teeth into this long original fic I have planned. Because the internet is full of distractions like too much lovely fanfic.
Only I haven't, really. I've been writing tiny bits of it with great difficulty (like squeezing poison out of a stone) while really spending of my time surfing free computer games.
So have a few. Free computer games, none taking that long to play, all quirky:
The Asylum for Abused Cuddly Toys (with a new member admitted recently)
Treasure Box - wierd Victoriana puzzles
Menulis - Trad Jazz in computer game form, all hand drawn
Shift - a dreamy world of petals, tree bark and giant insects. Also recommended in this vein: Samorost (perhaps the best ever computer game) and The Quest For The Rest
Poco Parco - unbelieveably cute little Japanese game with bunnies and mushrooms and rainbows
March 3rd, 2008
|07:10 am - This is genius|
Far too many books and not enough space?
Well, this is genius. A bookcase designed to have integral book storage between each step.
Also, every time you go upstairs, you're reminded of all the cool books you have. Joy!
March 2nd, 2008
|07:00 am - Rec: Booshfic|
At last! That didn't take me long, only a couple of months.
I finally figured out how to filter my LJ flist, so I can remain friended to the comm I post my Booshfic to, booshslashhaven, but it doesn't appear on my flist any more so I don't have to get bombarded with the vast quantities of RPS on it.
I feel an incredible sense of relief. To celebrate, I'm going to rec one of my favourite recent Booshfics:
Close your Eyes by thieving_gypsy Locked on BHS, Also on the BSH Archive here
Nathan Barley/Boosh Crossover, Dan Ashcroft/Vince Noir (NC-17)
Why I love it:
It was written for the Boosh kink meme for the prompt: "Vince getting a spanking from Dan Ashcroft." So it's a spanking fic. And yes, that's done well - but that wouldn't be enough for me to rec it. The real reason I went crazy over this was the feeling of backstory that gyspy's managed to create. It crackles off the screen. I'm completely convinced as to why these two characters would meet into the first place, what they are looking from each other, and all the emotions and expectations they're bringing to it.
Although Dan is quite antagonistic and emotionally reserved by the end I'm really feeling for him. There's less of Vince, but in just a few sentences she manages to say so much.
There are bits that are very, very funny, in their dry observation of character. It has the genius line, "Sperms in my HAIR, you tosspot, that is WELL RANCID!" How could you possibly resist? I laughed out loud where I least expected it, often where it was saddest. The atmosphere is wonderfully seedy, and angry and vivid. Brilliant. Yet at the end there's a flare of hope, and it was totally believable as well. I was left completely emotionally satisfied - and it's not often you can say that about a fic.
February 19th, 2008
|09:32 pm - BOOSHFIC: Mistletoe Threeway Part 4/8?|
Title: Mistletoe Threeway Part 4/8?
This part by: accio_arse, collaboration with easilyled
Characters: Howard, Vince, Dennis the Head Shaman, Lester Corncrake, other
Pairings: YES! AND MUCH SEXUAL TENSION TOO!
Word Count: 5400
Rating: this part (R), series (NC-17)
Beta: wonderful work by darksafari and artistsonly
Summary: Howard and the Head Shaman meet again for the first time since Howard’s fateful devirginisation.
( Mistletoe Threeway Part Four )
February 14th, 2008
|08:41 am - Mistletoe Threeway part 3/8?|
Title: Mistletoe Threeway Part 3/8? crossposted to booshslashhaven
This part by: accio_arse, collaboration with easilyled
Characters: Howard, Vince, Dennis the Head Shaman, Lester Corncrake, other
Pairings: YES! Read and see!
Word Count: 4500
Rating: this part R, series (NC-17)
Summary: Howard and Vince continue to have misunderstandings. About sex, of course! And there’s rain, itching, small pink cars… ooh, whole piles of stuff!
( Mistletoe Threeway Part Three )
|07:07 am - SHORT BOOSHFIC: Vince’s Mortal Enemy (isn’t Robert Smith) (PG-13)|
Title: Vince’s Mortal Enemy (isn’t Robert Smith)
Challenge: #21: Tangents crossposted to BSH on LJ
Rating: (PG-13) for rude words and mild peril
Word Count: very short
DISCLAIMER: Not my characters, not my Nabootique.
Notes: Beta by artistsonly, who pointed out I’d forgotten to have the same first and last lines. Duh!
Summary: Vince runs into his mortal enemy. And it isn’t Robert Smith. Um… like in the title.
( Howard, lock up the shop! )
February 2nd, 2008
|07:48 am - SHORT BOOSHFIC: silly mpreg crack|
Title: Babies are Genius! crossposted to blue_boosh
Pairing: Howard/Vince and BABIES!
Rating: It’s harmless crack. PG?
Warning: MPREG! (male pregnancy)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Boosh in the slightest. But if this disturbs the Boosh badly enough, it may even get into their next series.
Summary: Howard gets himself knocked up.
( Read more... )
( EDIT: Now with photoshopped image of the happy family! )