Fiction: Strange Territory

My target, just sat there, perusing the carriage, he wore a thick black coat well even though it must have been hot, being as it is mid-July. I don’t think he’s seen me yet as I am well shielded by the seats, tables and irritated commuters between us.

I enjoy my journeys but commuters annoy me. I audibly growled my annoyance at one woman earlier who was kicking up a fuss about the “Quiet Carriage” she seemed to think it meant she should be able to hear a pin drop and was making a fuss much louder than anyone else around, flapping her arms around at the train manager like a demented parrot. She very nearly blew my cover.


I want to move closer, but something stops me. Maybe it is too soon, a strike now in front of everyone on the carriage would perhaps be foolhardy, I’d certainly be in the doghouse that’s for sure. At least it would give the parrot lady something real to complain about. If I waded in now and hit my target I’d be extra loud just to stick in her craw.

But no distractions, that would give him the upper hand. If he won, as unthinkable as it is, it would be terrible. I’d have to leave the train, tail between my legs like some amateur. I’ve seen off bigger foes than him before. If I bide my time and strike only when the time is right, it will be him that is forced into retreat with only that smart black coat to hide his shame.

The train ambles into another station. Our air conditioned bubble is momentarily burst as people take one last look around for lost belonging before leaving to be replaced with strangely similar looking people. Faces different of course but they moved and even smelt the same. Anxious, hurried each and every one. I can only assume that no-one wants to be here.

The train began to trundle on it’s way. He is still there, he’s spotted me. I give him the signal.

Nothing, no response.

I signal again, just in case he missed it. I catch his gaze. He looks away. Good he can’t bare to look at me, he knows he is well out of his depth here.

It’s time.

Nothing stopping me hurtling down the train towards him, that bastard, sat on my train. I’ll show him. I grit my teeth and bound towards him with all the power my short legs can muster, there was no doubt that this was no longer a quiet carriage as I got as close to his face as I could, snarling, teeth snapping. This place was mine, how dare he be here, near my person.

Then I heard the words that always stopped me.

“Dex, down”

I hit the floor, and waited to find out if I was a good boy.



Poem: iWish My Brain Was Like My iPod

Today I sold my iPod classic.. so this is not the greatest poem in the world, but a tribute.. to my first Apple device.


iWish my brain was like my iPod,
Designed by Jonny Ive,
Everything stored in memory,
Keeping me alive,
iCould plug my brain in,
To sync with something new,
If it turned out not quite right,
I’d simply click Undo.
If my brain was like my iPod,
I could Pause and Play,
Skip to find the bits I like,
And let the rest just fade away.
If my brain was like my iPod,
All scuffed up and abused,
It surely is the off function,
That would be most often used.


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As the weather has been somewhat depressing. In April (thanks world) I thought I’d write about something that cheers me up. Something that has been a bit of an obsession since my fascination started aged 7 with Cilla Black. From Cilla to Kirsty MacColl to Karen Gillan. The obsession. The Redhead.

This has been exasperated by the fiction of Ed McBain who featured pert breasted redheaded maidens in almost every novel. The Flintstones with Wilma, Family Guy with Lois, Daphne on Scooby Doo, hell even Princess Fiona in Shrek. Animators would appear to have a bigger obsession than me.

I don’t really know what it is, is sensitivity to UV a turn on. I hope not. Maybe I like the challenge, less than 2% of the worlds population is currently crimson topped. So I have the odds stacked against me if this was my only criteria for finding a mate. That and my good looks, general good health, wit and mastery of speeling and grammar”

Maybe I like the fact that the redhead stands out, without trying, in most cases. As do I. OK now I do due to my “Jesus/Hobo tribute combo” but before I was beardy I was a pretty un-remarkable looking guy. The sticks make you stand out. People stand back, the old ones I had made a clicking noise on the floor which made it impossible to stalk anyone (Redhead or otherwise) I am always even for only fleeting seconds, centre of attention.

I do also have a love of “different” redhead dye jobs are in fashion now. But as a child of 80’s I come from a time where being red was covered up. So it took a brave girl or boy to buck the trend and go au natural. A quality which I admire, a big middle finger up to convention, what is expected. I will do what I want. In the 80’s/90’s a natural redhead was (even if not by nature) feisty. I have always liked feisty.

There are a good few redheaded bloggers out there. A few which I have found and followed due to me searching “Redhead” in the wordpress reader, such is my obsession. Somebody help me….

Karen Gillan (7606547704)

To celebrate safer Internet day. Enjoy my thoughts (again)


Today it hit the news that the government along with a few major ISP’s will be asking people to opt in if they want to access adult content on their networks. This is apparently to protect children. Now I am all for protecting children, for there are some things on the internet that it would be wholly inappropriate for a child to see. I understand how keeping porn away from kids can be difficult, especially as celebrities who made their name performing for children, Vanessa Hudgens and Lindsay Lohan to name but two, just can’t keep their clothes on when the camera comes out, and they have movies/songs to sell.

There is also another website http://www.parentport.org.uk which allows parents to complain about content in all types of media. Again I can see the logic, after all if little Johnny sees anything in the newspaper that is violent “monkey see monkey…

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Anyone for tennis… no… Anyone for a book challenge? You Weeble Boy?

froodian pseudoanalysis

The challenge…

Give a book you love to a total stranger.

The rules:

1)      You must genuinely love the book and want others to read it

2)      You must give it to a total stranger

3)      You mustn’t let on that you’ve been challenged or somehow been put up to going around giving out books, because that would spoil the act

There’s also an optional 4th rule – suggest that the recipient themselves give a book they love to a stranger.  But that’ll depend on individual circumstances.


If you happen to live in a place with a strong sense of community, full of helpful and friendly people, well done: you’ve won one of life’s lotteries.   Sadly, I don’t…

A series of events over the past few days have hammered this point home.  It started with my sister and I helping a disabled man off a train.  No real…

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The Second Piece of Pandemonium!
Almost makes me ashamed to be male… almost!

A Piece Of Pandemonium

Emily Davidson locked herself in a cupboard in the House of Commons on the night of the 2 April 1911. The following day she could register on the census form that her residence at the time was the House Of Commons, legitimately giving her the right to vote and she became the first female in the UK to do so.

I find it incredible that little over 100 years later, women are still denied the right to be deemed equal to men. When I look around my workplace, yes women are there, but we are all at the lower end and anyone who has made it to the top is seemingly a dragon. It seems that in order to succeed you have to act like a teenage boy by marking your territory at every meeting/ conference call with juvenile behaviour, leaving behind any female qualities, as these are seen as weaknesses in the eyes of senior men and you…

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Something worthwhile.. by someone other than me.. keeping it fresh!

Slowlycreepingdeath (resurrection)

Hello loyal band of wordpress followers. Slowlycreepingdeath has returned, because this name change has lost me lots of page views.. I wanna be famous god dammit. Nah I want people to read my stuff though. To that end I have moved.. as an experiment to blogspot at http://slowlycreepingdeath.blogspot.co.uk/ not much there at the moment.

This page will remain, I might even return in due course.. deleting pages is stupid.. I know that now!


It’s a rush of adrenaline, it’s a second or two of mass hysteria. Thousands of people rising to their feet in unison. Fists punching the air, voices and heart rates raised to new levels an almost primal reaction.

On the other hand it’s despair, crusher of hopes dreams and ambitions. Peering through fingers in disbelief often at the very people who are ardently celebrating your ineptitude. You’ve been here before, so have they. They know, so they are savouring their moment in the sun.

It’s a GOAL.

Or is it, did it cross the line? Was he offside?
Surely that was a foul ref. Are you blind?

Today, QPR scored a goal. But it will in the fullness of time be forgotten. This goal will never be recorded in the QPR history books, because even though the ball crossed the white line of destiny (the goal line) the goal was not given. The linesman said it did not cross the line.

QPR's "Goal" Image BBC SPORT

QPR went on to lose 2-1. Denial of what was a clear goal may have cost them dear. My own club Reading have also been involved in a controversial non-goal. As you can see the ball goes nowhere near the goal, and yet we scored!

So the FA have announced they want video technology to be introduced. Is this a good thing? I have to admit I am torn. On one hand, it should ensure a fairer game, but where do you stop? If there is a foul in the build up to a goal, does that get appealed and sent for review? If not why is this “non-goal” given less important than any other.

The referral system works excellently in many sports, notably cricket. It also proves that 95% of the time umpires are correct. It works in cricket because it is a stop-start game, with only a few variables to check. In football there are very few breaks in play, and even expert summarisers with the 300 cameras Sky have on each game still cannot come to a consensus. Then of course there is the beautiful game itself.

One of the reasons football is so popular is it’s simplicity. A ball is just about the only piece of equipment you need. It is played on a amateur level world wide by millions. The same game. The likes of FC Barcelona can afford HD cameras on the goal line, HD cameras up both of Lionel Messi’s nostrils if they want. FC Dog ’n’ Duck cannot.

Now in English football we have the greatest cup contest in the world. The FA Cup. The reason why I love it is that amateur sides can enter. They can go from 9 people watching them play at their home ground to 76,000 people watching them play at Old Trafford against Man Utd. Now what if FC Dog ‘n’ Duck held Man Utd to a draw at Old Trafford and they brought them to their ground behind the local Lidl’s. Barry a welder by trade, Ducks centre forward through on goal, smashes it to the top left, it hits the bar and bounces down. Is it over the line? Who knows? No cameras on the goal line. Whereas if a similar goal was scored at Old Trafford the whole would know, and no-one would have anything to write about, blog about, or talk about.

That’s the other thing about football. It is a soap opera. A game of opinions like no other. Do we really want Siri to tell us if that was a goal or not, or do we want officials who are human who will occasionally get it wrong sometimes.. just like the players.