The problem with science fiction

The LOLCat bible makes me very happy.  The Adoration of the magi, for example, becomes

something very strange and very funny:

"After dat dey waz about to IM king herod den wun of dem sayd “o, actuly, I hasd a dream at nait timez n ceiling cat wuz like “hey sup d00d.” n I wuz liek “nm, u?” n he wuz like “nm but d00d get dis, king herod r liez tbh. He iz lookin for jesus so he cn pwn him wtf!!!?” Den I woke up bt srsly ceiling cat sed dat.” So teh other waiz d00ds saied “o wtf, I haet dat n00b king herod wtf is hiz problem” n dey all goed bak to der home in d eats bi a moar differnt way." – Mathew 2:12.

This is what’s wrong with science fiction.  Imagine going back to 1992 and showing this to someone, trying to explain why it’s funny.  The way the world’s turning out is always a suprise.  No wonder William Gibson is retreating to the present day.

The Great Omani is Dead

I found a very sad story in today’s Argus:

Ron Cunningham, known as the Great Omani, died surrounded by family and friends at his home in Norfolk Square, Brighton.  He performed his final stunt- a fire-eating trick- for a film crew a week before he died…

Johanna and I met the Great Omani a few years back, on his birthday.  He’d been performing one of his farewell performances and we arrived too late.  Despite that he came downstairs in the pub, chatted and signed our books.  I was very glad to meet him.

The article includes a brief poem:
"They lay the Great Omani in his box
They have done it up with nails instead of locks
But at his funeral do not fear
Chances are he won’t be there

The Weekend

It’s been quite a weekend. Straight after work on Friday I was off to the Marlborough Theatre to be the ‘man-prop’ in Kitty Peels‘ zombie bride act. Sadly I didn’t get to see the climax as I was lying on the stage pretending to be dead, but the audience response was good. I only made one error in the evening. Trying to clean stage-blood from my hands, I said I was havng a ‘Lady Macbeth moment’. Luckily the damage caused by mentioning the scottish play was undone by turning round three times on the spot. We didn’t have time for Kitty to clean the red off her before we headed to Grubbs for burgers, then to You Dance I’ll Clap at the Fortune of War.

Saturday afternoon I went horseriding for the first time, at Three Greys riding school on top of the Downs. The view was incredible- Brighton in one direction, Hurstpierpoint and my old school in the other. There are photos, which I’ll post when I get copies. I can’t wait to go again.

I returned to Brighton in time for the rugby – can’t believe we’re in the finals, particularly after the poor play in the group rounds.


My dancing debut…

Yesterday didn’t turn out as expected.  It started with a text message from a friend, Kitty Peels: "…i wondered if you’d be free fri eve to be part of my act?!  I’m doing a zombie bride for a halloween show and need a groom to dance with and kill!  Rehearsal is tonight…"  So, of course, I said yes.

The rehearsal, at the Marlborough Theatre didn’t go too badly.  I’ve read on that stage a few times, but dancing on it is a whole different matter (no, Sophie, I’m not doing the ‘happy dance’).  Friday’s event is run by Boutique Theatre, who promise "sumptuous and sexy delights, delightfully tempting teases".  I’d better be good…