A completely unbiased review of The Greyminster Chronicles, as uncovered at Barnes and Nobel. com...I swear I did not pay Mr Steventon any money, send him any illegal photographs of Ulrika Johnson in the nude or offer him any of my rare bone marrow for his up and coming transplant.

John Steventon, a Cartoonist who loves great Sci-Fi, December 30, 2002.

Funny and completely original!

I am very picky about what I read, and cannot stand the ordinary or predictable. Fortunately, I found some of Brian Hughes' early work some years back, which is completely original Science Fiction. This book is very formidable, but well worth any price. It contains all but one of Brian's novels, and all of his short stories that take place in the fictional small English town of Greyminster, a town that has seen it's glory fade into the past. Here the working stiffs and pensioners do their best to survive each day, which is even more difficult than normal considering that Greyminster is a nexus of oddities and strange occurances, where Robots from outerspace visit, and evil Overlords from alternate futures try to rearrange the Space-Time continuum to their own advantage! These are delightful tales, with some recurring characters and landmarks that become as real as your own hometown by the time you finish the book. You definitely want more, and thankfully, Brian continues to write. I would call his writing a cross between Douglas Adams, Monty Python, and Red Dwarf, but this would be a disservice, since Mr. Hughes is definitely in a class of his own. And yes, Brian has written the foreword to my recently published comic strip collection, and is now a close friend of mine, but this review is totally unbiased. I first met Brian as a fan, and a fan I remain. I truly enjoy these stories!

I have never met this man, despite his insistence to the contrary, but already I can see that Mr Steventon of Happy Glyphs. Com is a sincere and decent chap with none of the buggered-up, bitter sensibilities that certain so-called readers from Dublin and/or wombat-shaggers from Victoria have.

Some General Advice for the New Year...

1) Sandles Travel Agents...if you're going to advertise on television the correct pronunciation of the word 'Caribbean' has the accent on the 'b' and not on the 'i'. The version you're using is the American pronunciation. If you want to continue this bastardisation of the English language then fair enough but please remember that when we've finally turned Britain into the 52nd State there'll be the same disgusting crime rate here as across the pond, the same hideous buildings and the same level of ignorance concerning politics and irony. More than that there'll be no sex on the telly and we won't even have America's one redeeming feature, the sunshine. Is that really what you want? If not then boycott Sandles Travel Agents now!

2) People who bought a new computer for Christmas...remember, when buying a printer to go with it don't choose a Hewlett Packard 610C...or any other Hewlett Packard for that matter. My printer has been occupied by Satan for the past five years and even after exorcism is still totally crap.

3) Fans of Setev Langllie...you have reached the wrong board. An easy mistake to make when your IQ is less than 45, I know, but please follow this link if you want to reach your favourite cartoonist.

4) The creators of the sitcom on BBC 1 starring Zoe Wannamaka (sp?) and that bloke out of Citizen Smith...when you're next stuck for ideas try placing your mouth/s around the exhaust pipe of a running car and inhaling deeply. Alternatively try slashing your wrists.

5) Suffering from a New Year hangover? Then try this simple remedy...take one egg, three pints of milk and a copy of Patternoster Row beat them all together and you'll be as right as rain in no time.

6) Will the bloke who left the collection bag for 'Help the Aged' on my doorstep, please collect it on the day he promised to next time as it's now full of rainwater and cat shit. Approximately £400.00 worth of paperbacks are ruined. Fortunately they were all copies of the Feral Eye Collection, but let it be a warning to you for future reference.

Uncle Brian...still too hung over from Christmas to think of anything clever.

98: Fred and Rosemary West -- Pioneers in Patio Design.

Born Siamese twins in Cromwell Street, Worcester, 1945, Frederick Murdoch West and his incestuous lover Rosemary Myra were separated by the rightly famed Dr Mengeles at the Jerry Lewis Memorial Hospital in Leeds. The operation was a complicated procedure involving a spoon, three pounds of butter and a wrecking bar. Despite the psychological scars it needlessly left, by the age of eighteen months the charismatic couple had built up a successful interior decor business under the auspicious gaze of Lawrence Lleweln Bowen, catering for the sado-masochistic needs of the aristocracy.

Staunch campaigners on behalf of the 'War Against Naughty Kids -- Extreme Response Society' they began clearing the streets of unruly teenagers as earlier as 1962. Meanwhile, back at Cromwell Street, Fred designed his famous 'Cellar of Fun', including plenty of anachronistic priest-holes for his secret stash of mutilated reprobates. As the population of the overcrowded council estates in the Midlands decreased the Wests went about their daily business unrecognised for their gallant social deeds.

On October the seventh, 1991, however, Fred was arrested for sneezing too loud in the local library. Later that day he was hung by the toenails from a rafter in his cell until his eyeballs bulged and his wife exploded.

Both Wests are now buried beneath Mr Toaster's patio, Killslaughter Lane, Upper Crummock. The house at Cromwell Street has been demolished to make way for a MacDonalds.

Fred and Rosemary still appear regularly in British newspapers when there's bugger all else to print.

Twisted thanks Sedgers for his wisdom. Having compared your post with mine I can see where I went wrong. I'll keep talking the pills and reading HTML for Dummies until I get it right!!!!

The venerable Sage of Unyan Dispenser of wisdoms and sayer of sooths to the masses

Upon seeing no less than three credit card applications raining down on his head from on high this morning the Venerable Unyan doth say - verily this is a vexing waste of natural resources and effort, especially the sneaky one disguised as an official missive. The unholy battalions of Mammon heedeth not the lesson of Gordon the Brown waxing wroth about the evils of credit abuse yet the same unholy forces unleashed the cruelty of a stealthy higher tax on borrowing upon the multitudes without much comment from God's fiscal handservant for in this they are doing the work of the Lord. Such is the way of the world.

This morning a mystifying search engine query found its way to this blogsite - Fair Isle sweaters for men. I feel a sheep-shagging joke coming on...

Editor's note: Just make sure Organ Morgan isn't around to read it ...

Deputy Editor's note: I wish Ulrika would keep her tits out of our Blog. Comes up No. 1 in Gooooooogle when searching for "ulrika johnsen's tits".