An American author on a signing tour marvels that Brits are actually less reserved than most Americans. But, because he is over here flogging a brown nosing Bush bio, he has to spoil it all by moaning that we insist on reading stuff that’s critical of The Homeland.
I’ve been meaning to do it for a while, but it was the flurry of Willow and Katie Holmes links in the last two days that made me do it. The comments box now has formatting capabilities and the ability to embed hyperlinks. I borrowed the template, perhaps when I’m feeling really inspired I’ll build one of my own.
How do you turn a 90 minute journey into one lasting for two hours or more?
Simple. Take the train.
I did at one point have a bookmark to the online complaint form posted by a presuambly equally irate rail user, which emailed the appropriate train company’s customer services on your behalf, however I have now lost this link.
A useful link to check just before you head for the station is the live departures board. Generally speaking if it says a train will be late, it will be late. If it says a train is on time, it will depart on time and arrive late.
While I was in the middle of a typically boring web surf, I came across this little test. I scored seven, so I’m normal then…
Penny sent me the text of an article in the Daily Mail:
“The world’s biggest retailer Wal-Mart has pulled three racy British-bred magazines from it’s shelves in a backlash against nudity and obscenity.
FHM, Maxim and Stuff, which feature scantily-clad women, are considered too risque for the American mass market.
But the company’s UK subsidiary, Asda, said it would not follow suit.
Maxim and Stuff come from the Dennis publishing group, set up by maverick mullti-millionaire Felix Dennis. Maxim, the group’s flagship title, has sales of 2.5 million in the US.
Maxim’s US publisher Stephen Colvin said:”I don’t think that theses decisions are often rational. For any men’s magazine to put a woman on the cover seems a bit troubling to them.”
Stuff in the US is owned by Dennis and concentrates on gadgets and naked women. FHM is published by Emap in Britain and the US.
An Asda spokesman ruled out any chance of the ban being extended to the UK:”We understand the pressure for change in the USA came from customers and employees”.
I doubt the pressure came from customers, or even staff. Wal-Mart are famously puritanical. No Logo by Naomi Klein listed a few examples, such as the creation of censored versions of albums just for the store. And Cosmopolitan has been sending them preview copies so the chain can decide whether or not to stock a particular month’s issue.
But they will sell guns…….
Though, to give them credit, they did suspend sales in a whole state when they found out some weapons had gone straight to criminals.
The Waltzer�s gun thundered. Thick grey smoke wrapped around the turret then washed back over the bridge. Everyone had jobs to be doing, but they forsook them to stare at the shot�s target and will the shell to land true. A fountain of water shot up just before the second transport. �You have one more shot and then we shall take evasive action.� Null shouted into the communications pipe.
The gun roared again. This time Null was spinning the control wheel before the recoil had even subsided. The stricken attack ship came into his view as Waltzer heeled over. They would pass close to it, but not collide. The seamen in the water around their old ship would not be so lucky, pushed under by the wash or churned over by the screws. The sailors� code did not apply in the middle of a battle.
�Hit sir!� a spotter cried. Null allowed himself a glance at the transports. There was black smoke over the nearest one and a large jagged scar in its plating. If they could inflict a few similar hits to the other transports they might be able to halt the invasion fleet. �Planes!� shouted another spotter, �They are not ours.�
�Bank and come due South.� Jayn instructed.
Half the flight followed Reed�s plane. �Fan out and look for surface contacts.� He added to their instructions.
The order had come through shortly after they had grouped up. The troop transports, taking what they thought was a safe Southern route, were under attack from air and sea.
Above and ahead of the Wasps, the Cicciles kept a look out for the reported fighters. Jayn scanned the sea for the trails of ships� wakes. �Contact. Red Seven has contact, bearing 200.� Came the report.
Red Seven was on the Eastern arm of their spread. Jayn rapidly calculated the necessary course adjustments. �All Wasps come to�.� Explosions shattered the engine bay of the Ciccile ahead and to the left of their plane. Robbed of power, the tail dropped, forcing the fighter into a false climb. It faltered, reached stall speed and tumbled backwards out of the sky. Ahead and to the right another Ciccile went into a flat spin as shell severed most of its right wing. Two fat, tubular shapes with wide square wings shot up through the gaps, climbing rapidly.
�Wasps, follow Red Seven to target.� The unspoken order to the Cicciles was obvious. Some climbed to intercept the Corkscrews, the rest formed cover above and below the Wasps.
The surface battle came into view. Four transport ships- one damaged and lagging as the others broke for shore- two combat vessels and a messy slick where another was sinking. Both of the fighting ships looked familiar. Similar types had escorted the Heavensent. �Can we contact the ships?�
�We were not told the frequency or any of th ecall signs.�
The single gunned ship fired on the transports, the shell falling just short. �No matter. I think that is identification enough. Wasps, form up for attack behind me.�
They did not have the right bombs to puncture a warship�s hull. The best they could hope for was to destroy the command and control. Reed lined up for an attack along the length of the ship. No different to hitting trucks on a road, he told himself. They came in low, from the rear. �You have the plane.� He told Jayn.
She made some basic adjustments, lining up the rockets, then pulling up when they had fired. They exploded in the antennae behind the main island, just as the bombs were released. One bomb overshot, bursting just behind the turret. Jayn pulled up, ready to hand control back to Reed.
Something exploded behind the cockpit, then inside it. One of the fat tubular planes passed overhead, trailing smoke. Red smoke. No, the red was inside the glass. The arrowhead shapes of two Cicciles passed above the Wasp, chasing down the Corkscrew.
Jayn kept the plane level. Why wasn�t Reed taking the controls back? She glanced over. He was slumped back in his seat, his chest a big red hole where the shell had passed through. She didn�t feel nausea, or even panic, still running on the adrenaline of the bombing run. However, the plane was beginning to shake and sink.
It was possible to fly and land a Wasp from the bombardier�s seat, and Jayn had trained to do so. She had never had to land in the open sea. She was heading over the transports, a little more power kept the plane a safe height above them. A little bank brought it perpendicular to the rollers and then she let it drop. Letting the flaps out slowed the plane, but Jayn had to fight to keep it level.
The tail dipped and clipped the top of a roller, pitching the plane nose down onto the top of the next wave. The propellers and nose dug into the water, tipping the plane forward. Another wave hit, bringing the tail splashing back down.
Water was flowing into the cockpit. Jayn stared at it as it washed over her boots. She was numb, now the shock was beginning to set in. Suddenly the clasp on her harness was too complicated to unlock. The water splashed over the top of her boots. She remembered how to unfasten the harness. When all the belts had fallen away she stood on her seat and pushed at the emergency panels. Another wave hit the plane and for a moment it rode along on the crest, threatening to tip over.
Jayn looked back into the cabin. The water was up to the bottom of the seats. There was nothing she could do for Reed, she kept telling herself, but she had to survive. The floatation aid she wore would not serve as well as the life raft the plane carried. There was a panel above the rear of the cockpit. She twisted the handle and opened it. The big yellow bundle was hard to handle on her own, but she managed to push it into the water, grabbing the pull handle as it went. When it was inflated she leapt into the water and swam over to it.
Only when she was safely aboard the life raft did Jayn allow herself to lean over the edge and be violently, painfully sick.
