Well, here we are then.


Apparently I am the final guest blogger.  Show’s over.  We have had Aleister Crowley talk, bookshop talk, steampunk talk, Indian & Finnish & etc SF, ninjas & pirates & zombies, and painstaking and thorough analysis of why and exactly in what ways Twilight sucks. Now there’s only me.  My job, like the night’s last stand up comic or variety act, is to keep you vaguely diverted while the waitstaff come round and collect your money.  I don’t have to be entertaining, I just have to make it awkward for you to leave without paying.  Oh yes! None of you will leave without paying.  Those of you who have unwisely passed out at the bar will have your wallets rifled through by light-fingered waitresses with drug habits to support.  Afterwards someone will have to clean up all the mess. Which one of you was sick in the toilets? What’s this sticky residue here in the back?


  1. says


    Well, you do kinda look like Carson Daly, I suppose, if I were to squint some more, stay up to way past ungodly hours, and watched Last Call while downing dozens of shots.

    So, do we get the banana link here as well? ;)

  2. says


    i have been fishing for a comparison to Carson Daly since i first started this whole writing thing

    now i can quit, my work here is done

  3. says

    “The evening’s eerily quiet. Call this a festival? . . . get to the dance . . . ”

    I quite enjoyed your New Weird entrée. Do I settle up here, or at the register?