Goth Girls' Detective Club

When I was a kid I used to love Saturday afternoons. Saturday afternoons meant The Incredible Hulk , The A Team and Wrestling. Now, there’s probably a vast difference between how you understand wrestling and how I do. Wrestling to me means good old fashioned Her Majesty’s British wrestling which roughly translates to overweight middle aged men who wouldn’t look out of place propping up the bar in the local pub wearing leotards and bashing into each other a bit. Our wrestlers looked like your uncle just before he went in for a heart bypass, they were the legends Big Daddy, Giant Haystacks, Mick McManus and big screen stars like Pat Roach and lovely Brian Glover and they were gods among men. They ruled Saturdays like majestic lycra clad warriors and Saturdays have never been the same without them. With this in mind I was naturally delirious with excitement when I came across Wrestlemaniac and while I had a vague suspicion that wrestling had changed since my early Saturday afternoons...

While I brew up a proper post I thought I'd post some Christmas kitten pictures, because everyone loves kittens, right? Opie and BeBe destroying the Christmas tree Opie and BeBe pretending they're not destroying the Christmas tree Lounging and clearly plotting more mischief Needless to say the Christmas tree spent most of the season on the floor and we're still finding baubles under the furniture. Presents were also something of a lucky dip as they ate all the labels. I was thrilled to receive my Lynx gift set and limited edition Dinobot. I now smell like an adolescent boy and can turn a plane into a pterodactyl in less than 11 seconds, thanks kittens.

Well, hello there, gorgeous cats and kittens! Just stopping by to apologise for not having been around as much of late. I’ve been a bit under the weather. Well, actually, no, I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself is a more accurate way of putting it. I’ve had a rubbish gammy foot for about six months which has been increasingly causing me ungodly amounts of pain, and while the pain is indeed ungodly, it’s been more the fact that hobbling around the place half of the time has made me feel old and decrepit and that has made me a bit low (except for briefly during the bad snow when I quite genuinely looked like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining on my home from work each night, that amused me). After finally relenting and visiting a doctor (and then a biomechanical specialist, seriously made me feel like the Six Million Dollar Man ) it turns out have Morton’s Neuroma which is a tumour that grows on a nerve in the foot, hence ungodly pain. The name and the description actually ...

I had vaguely thought about doing one of those 2010 best/worst rundown posts, but I’m rubbish and lazy and instead spent my time drinking whiskey, cuddling kittens and, as it turned out this morning when I sat down to write some stuff, thinking about sharks. It’s fairly common knowledge that I love a shark movie. Oh, boy, do I love a shark movie! I barely even discriminate, I’ll watch anything and I pretty much love them all in one way or another. There’s a lot of work and effort goes into loving shark movies so to save you all the blood, sweat and the tears, little naps and distracted nail painting that I go through on a regular basis here’s a brief peek at seven of the most awesome. (I am for the most part using ‘awesome’ in the broadest sense it’s possible to use it, ever). Jaws (1975) The undisputed daddy. I don’t even feel the need to write anything here. It’s Jaws. It’s awesome. And it’s still bloody terrifying. Shark Attack 3: Megalodon (2002) I care not what anyo...