The Cachement sank into the mud, valves hissing and bubbling as redistributed air settled it onto an even keel. No wreck ever laid on the bottom so neatly as the carefully scuttled barge. The crew still patrolled the deck, using the handrails as they swam toward the open hold.

They had started sinking as soon as the lights of Stran Island had shown on the horizon, continuing on their way underwater until they reached the sandbank that lay offshore. Now they had to transfer to the vehicles that were the barge�s cargo on its last journey. The long tubes, rounded at one end and with a propeller and rudder at the other, were little more than slow sit-on torpedoes, transport for the warheads that were the front quarter of the craft. The tube slung under the body carried extra batteries and oxygen to prolong the range for this special mission. Two by two, the crew members swan down to their Pigs.

Six Pigs headed for the north channel around Stran and six for the south. Those that made it were to pick their targets from the docks on the eastern side of the island. They knew they were part of a far larger plan, but were certain they were to strike the hardest blow. Strung out over several thousand spans, the small craft set out. If all went to plan, they would arrive in the harbour just before dawn.

With its mission completed, the Cachement�s crew flooded the tanks, transferring the air to their control section. As the hull of the old barge settled snugly into the mud, the little metal bubble began rising slowly to, hopefully, a rescue craft from the invasion fleet.

The old story about Colombian drug smugglers buying an ex Soviet sub resurfaces in this article about all the expensive technology they’re buying to run their business. It’s time for me to write up the story I planned a while back based on the smuggler sub tale.

Terminator 3 trailers are now available online to those of us with Quicktime and bandwidth (I haven’t yet tried to get the fullscreen version, maybe later.)

via BoingBoing

Oh, okay, it’s actually a really big reptile, a fossilised sea monster found in Mexico.

Shall return tomorrow, as I at least get back up to date with them.

Of course, now I have broadband again, the answer to my tape/ CD quandary is quite obvious.

These are the people who claim to have cloned the first human. I guess it could all be a publicity stunt.

One day too late for perfect timing, the world’s first cloned person is born (pending DNA confirmation).

As it happens, I brought a copy of The Story of The Clash up with me, so guess what I was listening to in the car today?

Sadly, I can’t pretend to have been one of those people who was always into the band, though I did appreciate the edge they brought to a Seventies night back in Sharanskys (cue wobbly-vision and flashback mode). Nonetheless- Joe Strummer RIP.

Always happy to have pics of food. How about a bald spot (or rather 1, 2, 3, 4) instead, you’ll have to guess the head that the spot belongs to.

Better still the tv with an odd quirk.

I’ll let Ian put this photo somewhere, since I haven’t got a clue where he puts them. Is it vain or even dangerous to post a picture of somebody who writes to this blog? Anyway, here’s a very blurry hand.

Apart from that nothing else to say really apart from Merry Christmas for tomorrow.

And my question (or three for the day): 1) Just how do high-street stores (e.g. BHS) shift the amount of tatt that they sell before Christmas? 2) Who buys the crap? 3) Which unfortunate sods get given it?

Amidst the rubbish, there are occassionally some OK items, but by the time I’ve finished looking through the rubbish, anything half-decent looks ideal as a present. Reverse marketing psychology perhaps? In terms of we’ll sell some crap so the average stuff looks brilliant. Obviously not thinking about brand tainting through proximity, put good stuff next to bad, and it will look bad.

Sinfest tries out new chat up lines.