The sooner things go back to the way they were, the sooner we can make change happen

You know, I was wondering if this blog is stored on a server in Europe somewhere or on the UK mainland, as I would like to think that the people of the future would get to read this horseshit and see that shortly before Britain went utterly mad and had to be sank into the sea to prevent the infection spreading and dooming the rest of the world - 28 Days Later and its "epidemic of hate" was apparently a documentary - Britain had people like you who wasted their time on blogs about comics and bad television - well, not exactly like you, as if you are reading this in the future you won't really know what comics are, or television, probably - or Britain, come to that.
I am not really sure what to say about Britain to future generations.  I make jokes about how catastrophe will undoubtedly follow this whole Brexit thing and we'll be clubbing each other to death in the Thunderdome for Aunty's amusement by this time next year and thanking our lucky stars we got this instead of the fate of the other Pig Killers, but I don't really mean that, it's just a humorous scenario I have postulated in the hope of amusing those reading my words.  Plus Tina Turner is retired now and lives in America, and she'd have to be mental to come here now we're all crazy racists who attack brown people on sight, which I wished was also a humorous scenario I have postulated in the hope of amusing those reading my words but is actually how we all roll now.  We are a racist nation and we make our important political decisions based on the lies of fuckers.  There's your archaeological insight right there, future people.  FUCKERS.
We were a nation of idiots and we got what was coming to us.  It might not be an actual apocalypse, but whatever it is, we worked for it.

I say this with nothing but love but you are dead to me

Conservative voters, you have destroyed this country.
We’re about to birth the first generation of babies that will be regularly woken by the nocturnal screams of their parents, and you did this with your affordable four-wheel drives, your Coldplay albums, your canvas trousers, your NutriBullet, your rape pornography, your James Corden, your Sky Atlantic, your mistress, your numb smile, your Diazepam, your wanking glove, your weight gain, your constant Googling "does this dream make me gay?", your fear of buttons, your Amazon Prime, your unrealistic goals, your friend with terrible spinal injuries, your secret jealousy of all the attention he gets, your constant fear of cancer, your dream of swimming with a dolphin who will at best feel complete indifference towards you, your tutting at the news, your Gucci belt, the books you have pretended to read, your love of cock, your cock of love, your daughter’s wedding, your first bike, your suicide.

Why can't you just be like a normal person and hate?

We've traveled a long road together, Star Trek, but I think it's time we went our separate ways.
It was a good run, and I really enjoyed paying to see your increasingly dumber and shitty films, but when you decide that what can best be described as "some tools on the internet mucking about" is the greatest threat to your intellectual property rather than the scripts for the last two Star Trek movies that you totally signed off on, it's probably time for me to move onto something else, preferably something which I can pretend hasn't been tarnished by a corporate jackboot that doesn't know or care about the difference between a copyright sniper and free advertising for their product.

So basically I'm going to be a Planet of the Apes fan now.  Plenty of movies to get my teeth into with a pedigree going all the way back to the late 1960s, a tv show, a really dreadful cartoon, and comics which I will charitably refer to as "variable in quality".

You only really hit bottom when you stop digging

Oh go on, then, Blogger, have another of my increasingly-infrequent and rambling posts while I hit a quiet spot in The Paying Work.
Not up to much these days, just the odd freelance thing good for occasional beer money injections to my bank account and not much else.  I had knocked the comics thing on the head because it wasn't going anywhere, and the microsecond I made the decision, I ended up getting hired to draw comics not for a publisher but for learning websites.  My work is behind paywalls so basically you have to take my word for it, but I'll be sure to link to anything that's free to view if and when it appears somewhere online.
I did still manage to fall into doing some small press fan work, including my second attempt at Strontium Dog (for Dogbreath), which was basically just me sketching the action figure they brought out that one time, and hey, while I've got you waking from that cider-induced slumber, clearly terrible attempt at Ron Perlman's likeness, what was your opinion of my attempt at a Hellboy strip?

Well I thought I did okay.  Everyone's a critic.

I love you but I'm embarrassed by the things you believe, do and say

I don't know when my tv viewing became trapped in the 1970s and 1980s, but here I am just wrapping up on watching Street Hawk (mostly terrible) and diving into Logan's Run: The Series (completely terrible) and almost immediately getting sidetracked hunting down episodes of Bigfoot and Wildboy, a show I cannot believe I didn't know existed: an orphan is raised by Bigfoot and they fight forest crime together!  Created by Ken Ruby and Joe Spears, who made a ton of awesome cartoons you never really saw if all you owned was an analogue tv in the 1980s, but this one's a live-action effort that's a bit Jungle Book, a bit Incredible Hulk, and a bit Grizzly Adams.  God bless you, Internets - and all who sail upon you!

Stand firm for what you believe in until and unless logic and experience prove you wrong

I won't lie, I am currently watching the Blue Thunder spin-off tv series, and really, where can I possibly go from that statement - "it was not as good as I had expected"?
It stars Dana Carvey, you guys.  On purpose.
Sometimes I wonder what people make of the blog, apart from perhaps that I live in some sort of pop-cultural third world of old shit films and old shit tv shows and - latterly - old sci-fi novels that are actually quite good, occasionally popping in to the blog to screen grab pics of whatever random thing I'm doodling at that day and tell you you all how great that episode of Street Hawk is where he does the turbo hyper jump to spin 360 degrees in mid-air because of course I'm watching Street hawk, too - and I am 70 percent certain I am not imagining the sexual undercurrent of the voice-over man saying "to RRRRRIIIIIDE Street Hawk!"  I don't imagine today's post will do much to shake the impression I've worked hard to give.

The monkey is unpredictable - you never know when he's going to demand intercourse

For some reason I decided to watch the Dirty Harry series and it was largely a good decision as some of them are good action films - especially Magnum Force's inventive chases - though my main takeaway was the fantastic Lalo Schifrin scores, even if they were a diminishing returns kind of thing as synth music became more permissible between 1972 and 1988 and the snazzy, jazzy, dirty guitar riffs phased out to be replaced with an array of other contemporary sounds.
Also decided to start watching Rizzoli & Isles, which was a terrible decision.  Stupid, hateful, and often sadistic, it's the kind of show a 13 year-old would create if they found themselves in a writer's room by accident and decided to roll with it like that Guy who wandered into the wrong interview on the BBC that time, only that was fun and didn't leave you hating the world and yourself in that order like Rizzoli & Isles does.  The show also describes the theory that criminal behavior is genetic as "scientific", so there's that, too.