I know, I know; long time no post. the past three weeks can be summed up by a succession of ailments: 'flu, conjunctivitis, a disgustingly snotty, sinus-y cold and finally, bursting a blood vessel in my left eye. It's as if my immune system decided to get three years' worth of illness out of the way over the course of a single month. Hence, I've spent the past weeks feeling like a shambling corpse, and looking like a skinned one with fishbones up its nose.

However, after a total of about 20 hours sleep over the weekend, I'm more or less recovered and looking vaguely human again. So, on with some catch-up.

Work has been stupid, but I've been left in charge a bit which means I'm allowed to bitch people out when they fuck up and try to have our end take the blame for their totally fucking inexcusable mistakes (like diverting entire floors of phones to a collection of dead numbers then going out for piss-ups in Preston, for starters). I'm good at bitching people out. Yes, who'd have thunk? Getting grovelling apologies is quite satisfying. Whee!

Christmas so far has been fine. It's been low-key, without any family squabbles. My sister was in a superb mood for some reason I can't work out, but I'm happy to go with it. I got some nice presents: paperbacks of The Grifters, George Orwell's Keep the Aspidistra Flying, Pratchett's Thud!, Inside The Victorian Home (it's fascinating, I swear), Lindsay Clarke's The War At Troy, William Boyd's Restless; the collector's tin 5-disc edition Blade Runner DVD set, Shrek 2 DVD and a Kinks Greatest Hits CD. What the fuck did we do before Amazon wishlists? Were presents shittier or merely more surprising before the intertubes? Discuss!

I want to go to Eastercon - Tanith Lee and Neil Gaiman, two of my favourite people/authors are going to be there. I really, really want to go. I have the days off from work, but accommodation issues (hotel being all booked up) may prevent me. I need to email the organisers after Xmas and see if there's any room-sharing folks left.

The Xmas Who tonight was a turd and a half. I've spent the weekend, when not sleeping, watching DVDs of season 2 of The Shield. I know Who is a different genre and has a different target audience, but I'd like to sit the writers/producers of new Who down and make them watch The Ongoing Adventures of Vic Mackey and Co and other various American imports, such as BSG, just to get them to realise how woefully fucking inadequate a product they're putting out and how bloody awful the writing is. It's insulting even to kids at this point - just relentless, recycled mawk, gormless plotting, cheap angst and pointless running around set to orchestral bellowing. I just cannot understand what people get out of episodes like the one just shown - and it appears some people do get something out of it given the reaction on the LJ Who community. Did we watch the same episode? Maybe all some people want from a show these days is Kylie Minogue in a waitress outfit and fuck-me boots, fat women in comedy outfits committing suicide and David Tennant doing his by now standard 'Soooo sorry!' emo-gurn routine, but my standards are, unfortunately, a trifle higher.

Additional: I've been reading Charlie Brooker's collected Screen Burn columns for the past week and it has only increased my pure, untrammeled lust for the man, or at least, his sentences. There was a line about Ann Widdecombe having a 'face like a haunted cave in Poland' that had me practically soil myself on the number 84 bus last week. Now, that's entertainment. Who producers take note.