sex

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A friend forwarded this to me yesterday. It’s depressing that she knows I need a visit from the Hot Sex fairy, and even more depressing that I’m too lazy to forward it to ten people. I’m hoping that posting it here will qualify me for a visit from at least the Hot Cuddle fairy-

> …..don’t normally follow the send this to 10 people lark…but the thought of never having good sex again brought me out in a cold sweat! and besides a visit from the hot sex fairy wouldn’t go amiss

>

> >1. Sex is a beauty treatment. Scientific tests find that when women make love they produce amounts of the hormone estrogen, which makes hair shine and skin smooth.

> >

> >2. Gentle, relaxed lovemaking reduces your chances of suffering dermatitis, skin rashes and blemishes. The sweat produced cleanses the pores and makes your skin glow.

> >

> >3. Lovemaking can burn up those calories you piled on during that romantic dinner.

> >

> >4. Sex is one of the safest sports you can take up. It stretches and tones up just about every muscle in the body. It’s more enjoyable than swimming 20 laps, and you don’t need special sneakers!

> >

> >5. Sex is an instant cure for mild depression. It releases endorphins into the bloodstream, producing a sense of euphoria and leaving you with a feeling of well-being.

> >

> >6. The more sex you have, the more you will be offered. The sexually active body gives off greater quantities of chemicals called pheromones. These subtle sex perfumes drive the opposite sex crazy!

> >

> >7. Sex is the safest tranquilizer in the world. IT IS 10 TIMES MORE EFFECTIVE THAN VALIUM.

> >

> >8. Kissing each day will keep the dentist away. Kissing encourages saliva to wash food from the teeth and lowers the level of the acid that causes decay, preventing plaque build-up.

> >

> >9. Sex actually relieves headaches. A lovemaking session can release the tension that restricts blood vessels in the brain.

> >

> >10. A lot of lovemaking can unblock a stuffy nose. Sex is a natural antihistamine. It can help combat asthma and hay fever.

> >

> >This message has been sent to you for good luck in sex. The original is in a room in Palaiseau. It has been sent around the world nine times. Now sex has been sent to you. The “Hot Sex Fairy” will visit you within four days of receiving this message, provided you, in turn, send it on. If you don’t, then you will never receive good sex again for the rest of your life. You will eventually become celibate, and your genitals will rot and fall off.

> >

> >This is no joke! Send copies to people you think need sex (who doesn’t?). Don’t send money, as the fate of your genitals has no price.

> >

> >Do not keep this message. This message must leave your e-mail in 96 hours. Please send ten copies and see what happens in four days. Since the copy must tour the world, you must send it. This is true, even if you are not superstitious. GOOD SEX, but please remember: 10 copies of this message must leave your e-mail in 96 hours or you will not have good sex again for the rest of your life!!!!

Quite enough of that. Seeds–

There were welding kits in the boxcar. They pulled the pins from a length of rail a thousand spans from the siding and severed it. They also found a section further away where the level was maintained by wooden supports over a shallow dip. The half full cylinders were packed in this with explosives.

One autogun stayed atop the boxcar. The other was taken into the seed grass. Kess found a ridge and set up with his baby long rifle and a pair of field glasses. The shadows were beginning to stretch when he gestured the sighting of smoke down the track.

Lensman did a last survey of his men. They were arrayed in the seed grass with a number of the prisoners. Some of the track gang were still working, to fool spotters on the train. The stonks were hidden in the shadow of the boxcar and the bomb lobbers were behind it, aimed at the track beyond the explosives.

Lensman joined his man with the detonator. The key was turned and the explosives were primed. As the train appeared, Lensman studied it through field glasses. In front of the locomotive was a flat bed with an anti air mounted on it. With no threat from above, it had been traversed down for ground targets. Behind the locomotive were four passenger carriages, two boxcars with autogunners on top and another flatbed with an anti air.

�We take out the flatbed first. It will mean firing the explosives before the train reaches the loose section, but such is fate.� Lensman announced.

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Hey, I’m on holiday, okay. I’ve been enjoying the Lakes with an attention hungry Springer Spaniel and getting on with those geeky things- modelmaking, RPGs- that I have the time for in Manchester but never get around to. I think I’ve taken enough photos to keep me going throughout October.
Holiday reading-
e. by Matt Beaumont. Very funny attack on an ad agency, and office politics in general. Having it all told in e-mails may seem a risky ploy at first, but it allows for a sort of minimalism where you can easily unserstand all the events without needing the full narrative.
Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls by Robert Rankin. Odd, very odd, but endearingly so. There is so much time travel and such going on in Brentford that I’m surprised everyone doesn’t meet three versions of themselves in the High Street every day.
World War: Striking The Balance by Harry Turtledove. That’ll teach me to start reading a series with the fourth book. This one is proving hard going because the huge cast has to have their back story filled in as you meet them. It has an interesting premise- the Second World War is cut short by the arrival of an alien attack fleet which expected to meet medieval warriors and only has slightly better technology than the humans.

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It’s been a long time since I checked out my visitor logs, so off I went. Intriguing is this listing, which seems to have crawled my site and come back with a list of all external links. So next time, it lists the page listing me, and things get a bit recursive.

Also interesting were some google searches- hard wood doors, New Bohemians pics and the hidden empire middle management. If I mention sex more often, or Britney Spears naked, will I get listed more often?

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As I’ve just spent the last three days buried in Fatal Terrain and with the film version of The Sum Of All Fears coming out here this week, I was reminded of a little something I wrote a while ago. I’ve added a couple of extra comments, in bold, and links to some of the books on amazon (because no matter how much I mock them, they are addictive).-

The World According To Clancy

I first became addicted to techno-thrillers when I was unemployed. Needing something to keep me in the house without resorting to daytime TV I scoured charity shops and second hand bookshops for anything to read. The only things which were less than a decade old were the free romance booklets given away with copies of More and the works of Clancy, Brown and their imitators.

I didn’t expect to like the politics and wasn’t surprised by the flat characterisation. But I was hooked and have now waded through a dozen or so of these bricks. It has become obvious to me that the genre adheres to a few simple formulae, as follows-

1. The military is always right.

Politicians have rarely been able to make sensible military decisions- influenced as they are by paranoia about backstabbing or spin- and there seems no reason why soldiers should be any better at making decisions about the economy. However, in the techno-thriller, the only people whose decisions are for the good of the country come from one of the armed services.

1a. Some parts of the military are more right than others

Depending upon the favoured service of the author, their branch of the services gets more of the action. Stephen Coonts’ guys are usually naval fliers, Dale Brown favours the boys and girls of the bomber wings and Area 51’s toys. Clancy himself, who didn’t serve, is most balanced, even bringing in the Feebs and Spooks. Write about what you know, and all that, but sometimes there’s a bit of childish name calling.

2. America, America Uber Alles.

Even the rare Brit writing techno-thrillers centres upon the US of A. Other countries are only good for occasional specialists, who are still in awe of the Yanks’ military system.

3. Muslims are a bad lot.

With the Soviets no longer a plausible threat, most plots now revolve around the towelheads running rampant. (Though Clancy did take a little time out to show those uppity Nipponese who was still boss. [Debt of Honour]) Occasionally someone will comment that most Muslims are honourable people before proceeding to send hordes of them to meet Allah, but usually the only followers of Islam encountered are about to be used as target practice by the Marines. [Executive Orders, Shadows of Steel]

3a. China’s a bit dodgy too.

Pre September 11th, ragging on the ragheads had worn thin with everyone, and they turned their attentions to Mao’s boys [Hong Kong, Fatal Terrain, Sky Masters, The Bear and The Dragon] (though Clancy took time out again to slap ecologist about and defend GM and Ford’s right to build cars that need their own oilwells [Rainbow Six]). I guess that’ll be over with now.

4. Women must always be protected.

And wait at home and worry. And be prepared to give up their career to go where their husband’s job takes them.

Vaguely related-

4a. Jack Ryan is the most fertile man in the world.

In all of Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels that I have read, the character has only had sex with his wife twice. And she got pregnant each time. This reminds me more of The Meaning of Life than a mature relationship.

5. ‘It was the sort of thing that only happened in bad movies/ novels/ TV programmes.’

An observation made by characters each time some horrendously contrived plot twist, suitable only for a bad movie, novel or TV programme, happens. As characters turn into franchises the twists are getting ever more convoluted.

And, finally, the award for being most out of touch with reality. In Task Force 61, the task force has landed, ready to kill a few Arabs. The commander is strolling along the beach. He marvels at how all his troops, black, white, hispanic, have rallied together to listen to the hard, raw, gritty music of the streets. The song- ‘You can’t touch this’ by MC Hammer.

Break out the baggy trousers men, we’re going to war!

I still have a hankering to do a satirical/ spoof techno thriller, but have a feeling too many people would take it seriously………….

Platters that matter- Good Morning Vietnam (5 disc compilation, not the movie soundtrack.)

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And a little bit of The Eliza Effect. I’ve had to reconstruct some bits, including this one, from memory after the computer fry up. I think it’s all here-

Focus
�Oh shit.�
�What�s wrong?�
Paul pointed at the Visitor parking area. Every one a Ford Focus. �Middle management.�
�Middle management. Shit.�
�How many middle managers does it take to screw in a light bulb?� Mike asked.
�Middle management will screw in anything.� Paul answered. �What are they all doing here?�
Another car, another Focus pulled through the gates and sailed into the last Visitor spot.
�We could just walk away.� Mike suggested.
�No we couldn�t.� Owen was staring at the redhead who had been driving the latest Focus. Mike and Paul exchanged shrugs.
�Fine. Lead on MacDuff.�

Today, I are bin mostly listening to- Deus- Worst Case Scenario, Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine- I Blame The Givernment, Punk- Worst of Total Anarchy, Meat Loaf- Dead Ringer, ZZ Top- Eliminator

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Today, according to the timesheets my old boss dug out a couple of months ago, is my four year anniversary with The Gas. For a while I was toying with making this my last day, but I procrastinated to the point where I still have another fortnight to go. Ho hum.

Fruitbat, of old faves Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine, is putting their old sampler up for sale. The jury is still out, however, on 1992, one of the albums it was used to make.

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A very, very short snippet from The Eliza Effect-
Wife_Swapping_is_the_Future:
They gathered around Owen’s desk to compare cars. “Honda Accord, automatic.” He announced.
“With cruise control?” Mike asked, Owen nodded. “Polo. Swap?”
“Polo’s a bit small for me.”
“I’ve got a Mondeo. It’s far too big for me. I’ll take the Polo.” Paul tossed his keys to Owen, who checked them and slid his across the table to Mike.
On her way to the photocopier, Kate stopped just long enough to comment, “If you’re going to have that kind of party you really need wives.”

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Oops, I missed yesterday’s update. Went to see Dr. Strangelove instead- “You can’t fight here! This is the War Room!”
Page Eight and Page Nine of Bulletproof Poets.
I should really go out for a training ride- it isn’t raining- but the apathy has got me again (and all my cycling gear has just come out of the wash. I don’t feel right biking in ordinary clothes any more, perhaps I’m developing a thing for those sexy tights!) I spent too much of yesterday surfing. My new favourite site is Brunching Shuttlecocks. I’m joining the Oral Sex Donation System just for Valentine’s Day (unless it’s successful).
Anyway. I’ve said too much. I’m off to Bike Doctor to get more kinky cycling gear.
Mmmmm, Lycra.

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Today’s picture.
Manchester welcomed me back to work with heavy rain just before I got to the office. And apparently, tomorrow’s going to be even worse.
I’m just counting down my days until the end, though next week’s going to be busy. I was thinking about it in France, and came to the conclusion that the jobs been a bit like a relationship. In fact, a bit like the relationship I had in 1993-94, horribly dysfunctional, with more demanded of me than I got in return. I started thinking of metaphors about the sex, but, well, no.

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Moving Music- Embrace, The Good Will Out, Queen, Greatest Hits, Rolling Stones, The London Years (Disk 3)

I’m back! The money’s paid, the lease is signed and I’m in an empty house in Manchester. And when I say empty, I mean empty. If it didn’t fit in the back of a Volkswagen Polo this morning it ain’t here.

Of course, the first thing I’ve got to do now I’m back in Manchester is drive South again on Sunday and visit the Croydon office. A last chance, at least, to see one of the few people down there who I’ll miss.

Other random thoughts for the day- Queen gave me another song for the soundtrack of my next (but one) project. The Eliza Effect might just make it to a script as well as a novel. I can see it all wrapping up with our three heroes karaoke’ing ‘We Are The Champions’ as a sort of drunken finger to everyone who’s caused them trouble during their project. Other soundtrack snippets- Stress, by Jim’s Big Ego and Only Living Boy In New Cross/ Re-Educating Rita, by Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine.

I haven’t told you anything about The Eliza Effect yet have I? Let’s just say I’m going to be writing a novel/ script based upon my experiences travelling the country trying to get an IT project off the ground.

It’s going to be a farce.