Saturday, 9 May 2015

The grace and personality of a raging bull elephant in mating season (but with far less charm)

I don’t normally do politics on blogs or social media – goodness, I’d hate to influence peoples views, and I do have that level of clout, y'know - but the general election, complete with a surprise Tory majority, is worthy of my comment.

Whatever your views on the winners, I think they should pass a law that dictates that if you couldn't be bothered to vote, and you didn't have a good excuse for that, don’t whinge about the outcome.

On top of that, whosoever thought that the coupling of the two Eds – Miliband and Balls – was a winning combination needs their heads examining. Quite apart from the fact that one came across like a wet lettuce and the other exudes the grace and personality of a raging bull elephant in mating season (but with far less charm), there was another inherent problem. 

These days it's the in thing to combine the names of famous couples – you know, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie became Bragelina -  but if you try it with Ed and Ed what do you get? 

MILIBALLS, that’s what.

Ye Gads! We could have been the laughing stock of Europe if they’d come to power!

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

Parallel Lines

This is nothing to do with Blondie’s massive hit album of the same name, so if you’re looking for pictures of Ms Deborah Harry looking at her cutest and bestest in the 1970s, look away now – for what I have here is a pair of genuine parallel lines, and they predate Blondie’s achievement by about ten years.

Yeah, I got there first.

In September 1968 I started in my first year at Macclesfield Central School for Boys. I was 11 years old and, in today’s parlance, I was in year seven. Within two months I was defacing the wall of our not-so-beloved school with some bright yellow paint that wouldn't have looked out of place on the roadside, keeping traffic wardens in work.

Macclesfield Central School for Boys


I’m not ashamed, and I wasn’t alone: there were four of us, and there was a maths teacher overseeing our wanton act of vandalism.

You see, on 18 October 1968, a certain Mr Bob Beamon smashed the men’s long jump world record by more than 21 inches with an astounding jump of 29 feet, 2½ inches at the summer Olympics in Mexico. I’m not sure whose summer it was – it was autumn in England.

Also, on 17 October 1968, a certain Mr Viktor Saneyev achieved a new world record in the triple jump – twice. In fact, the record was set four times that day. It went like this –

  • 17.22 m Giuseppe Gentile
  • 17.23 m Viktor Sanyeyev
  • 17.27 m Nelson Prudêncio
  • 17.39 m Viktor Sanyeyev 

For those who don’t understand metric, 17.39 m = a little over 57 feet. For those who don’t understand triple jump, join the club: probably the only ones who do are the ones who jump and judge it.

So, back to the lines.

Once the 1968 Olympics had ended, one of the PE teachers thought it would be a great idea to get some first year students to paint a memorial in celebration of these records on the wall of the school. Being a PE teacher he didn't have the capacity for anything too artistic, so it was to take the form of two yellow lines to match the distances jumped. Simple, yet effective.

Over the course of the next couple of PE lessons, myself, Robert Franklyn, Ian Parker and Martin Patience painted two very neat and precisely measured yellow lines on the wall of the school. I had the honour of writing the measurements at the end of the lines, and one of the others wrote the words.

I left Macclesfield at the end of the third year when my nomadic father, not content with moving four times in four years within Macclesfield, decided it was time to move back to Cornwall. I barely gave the yellow lines a thought until I recently found myself in the area and decided to drop in oo Macclesfield.  I tracked down the school, which is now disused and slightly derelict, and there, just visible, were the two yellow lines. OK, they look a little white, but zooming in, the yellow is still there. And the best preserved bit is my decorative numbering, I disown the writing beneath – it’s too neat for me to have done it, and the infamous Apostrophe Protection Society will note that the word “Mens” is lacking one.

The faded lines, from a distance, look white

On closer inspection, traces of yellow can be seen. Note the intricate numbering on the far right ... admire the technique

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Blood Swept Lands & Seas of Red

I first visited Paul Cummins’ art installation at the Tower of London back on 5th August when the attraction had just opened.  It was a work in progress, but a magnificent memorial, regardless of its incompleteness.

 By 11 November 2014 there will be 888,246 ceramic poppies occupying the moat of the Tower. Yesterday, Saturday 18 October, I became part of this history, and planted a few of these poppies myself. Along with my wife, three sisters-in-law and a brother in law, and about 194 other volunteers, I spent the afternoon in the moat next to Traitors’ Gate, assembling and planting these beautiful red flowers and generally being a tourist attraction.

Just think of that number: 888,246. 

That’s one flower for each of the colonial soldiers killed in the First World War. It sounds a lot, but that number is overwhelming when you wander around the moat and see the vast expanse of red flowers – and the installation is still expanding.

It was an enjoyable afternoon – warm, friendly and worthwhile. We stayed into the evening to witness the role call: at sundown each night, the names of 180 of those who died is read out at the front of the tower. I was amazed at the thousands of people who gathered for this event in total silence – silence except for sound of London traffic, the sirens of emergency vehicles ... and the mobile phone that rang during the reading of names. 

Then came the last post.
 A solitary guardsman stood on a small mound amidst the poppies and let his trumpet sing the mournful tune.

Want to volunteer? 

Wednesday, 26 June 2013

NOT a misery memoir

Phew, the past few weeks have proven interesting.

Following my retirement from public service I've been job hunting and getting a tad despondent with what's available and the number of times I can apply for a job only to receive no response from anyone!  On a brighter note, between temp work and submitting job applications, I've been helping a fellow author with some technical issues for her e-book and the paperback edition. 

Fantastic cover art by Amy Pettingill
I first met Amanda Smith through Verluam Writers' Circle, which I joined around thirteen years ago. We were never close, but over the years I became very impressed with the extracts of her work that she regularly read out at meetings - funny, sad, moving and often tragic, Amanda often moved us from laughter to tears and back gain in fifteen-hundred words or less. Many of the extracts that Amanda read were from her accomplished book debut Toxic...No More (USA link here). 

A few years back, Amanda signed a lucrative, two book, publishing deal with a major publisher. A publication date was set, yet the book never appeared. What happened next is not my story to tell: suffice it to say that there was a court battle and a settlement. Perhaps, one day, Amanda will be able to speak publicly about the case. In the meantime, here are some links to news articles in the Bookseller and The Independent.

Anyway, I have helped Amanda to format her e-book and to format the interior layout of the paperback version, which should be available for purchase through Amazon and other places in the very near future. I am currently 75% through reading the actual text, and it is quite breathtaking. It is all that I expected, and more. The cover art is damned good, too. Why not pay a visit to artist Amy Pettingill's website?

The book details Amanda's rather unusual life as an abuse victim and an alcoholic, and her recovery. It has been described as a 'misery memoir', but that is the greatest of misnomers. Amanda's writing style sucks the reader in: we see everything through her eyes, complete with the rose-tinted slant she displayed through all of her misfortune. Don't get me wrong: Amanda has had her share of misery, but she has translated that into a highly readable, often hilarious, memoir. It is a book that should appeal to the mass-market as well as those who are undergoing similar issues and who need to see that despite the hardship, one can fight through it all and come out of the other side as a winner. 

That Smith person is a very strong woman.

Find out more

Wednesday, 17 April 2013

Altering the course of clichés: forever!

Hold me down, I'm about to go off on one.

Last night I watched a documentary on National Geographic TV  - ELIZABETH I: KILLER QUEEN (actually, it was a recording). The basis of the programme was that QEI was possibly in love with Robert Dudley, and that Dudley's wife, Amy Robsart, was assassinated, in order that he would be free to marry the Queen  It was an intriguing, if not wholly convincing, premise.  But that’s all by-the-by.

It was all acceptable until one of the the history bods insisted on using a cliché that not only do I hate, but also makes no sense. Boldly, he pronounced that the murder of Amy “... changed the course of history: forever.” Shock. Horror. Drama.

But think about it: “changed the course of history ” is bad enough, but the addition of “forever” makes it totally ridiculous.

If we accept that it is possible to change the course of history, one must accept that
  1. events throughout history and, indeed, the future, follow a preordained course, but that it is possible to alter that course (the latter tends to contradict the former), or
  2. time travel is possible, and someone can go backwards through time to alter events that have already taken place.

If you believe in destiny and/or time travel, stop reading now, otherwise, continue.

History is everything that has already happened. It follows no course: what becomes history is influenced by the actions of everyone and everything existent at the relevant time. Once these actions occur, what is left is a historical fact. Once that fact exists, it cannot be altered. Also, it is not possible to alter a fact before it becomes one: all we can do is influence what becomes a fact. It is, for instance, a fact that I misspelled RELEVANT, above, and had to alter it. I changed the spelling, not the fact that I misspelled it in the first place.

That which is a fact will remain a fact: forever. The addition of the word “forever” to the old cliché is redundant – once a fact, always a fact. It will always be a fact that misspelled RELEVANT.

How does anything “alter the course of history”? If Amy Robsart was murdered, it set a course of events that have now become historical facts. It didn't alter the course of history, because history had not yet happened! And if the time travel bit were feasible, any alteration would already have happened so would already be enshrined in fact (unless you start theorising about alternative dimensions, universes, time streams, etc) .

And while I'm at it, what about that other hackneyed cliché, "He has his whole future ahead of him." COME ON, PEOPLE! Where else would his future be: in his past?

Here endeth the rant. Perhaps my mate Rathbone Kydd could alter things ...

Wednesday, 27 March 2013

Progress report

So, I retired from the police service in February, I divulged my ex-profession on this blog (see previous two posts), and now I've had the worst sales period ever!

I suppose it's my own fault: I've been almost completely absent from social media for weeks because I've been really busy sorting out a new website and new sources of income. The website can be found in it's usual place - - but it's so much nicer to look at.
Visit the new-look KJB website NOW!!!

The new source of income, if all goes well, will combine writing, photography and my investigative experience  I am working freelance as an investigations agent, compiling accident reports and photographing accident scenes. Maybe it's not art, but it should produce some income!

Now, I need to find the time to write fiction...

Saturday, 9 February 2013


In my previous post HERE I conducted an experiment to see if my now ex-employers were right to impose a condition on my writing activities. With only 4 hours and 26 minutes of employment with the Metropolitan Police Service left, I set out to ascertain if my being a police officer would increase sales, as my employer had suggested. Well, the results are in.

No. Nil. Nada.

Not one single sale after the announcement.

I knew they were wrong!

Now, how about buying copies because I'm and EX-police officer? Just sayin' ...

Friday, 8 February 2013

A short experiment

Anyone who’s read my bio either on my main website or my Amazon profile will know that I have a ‘secret’ occupation in public service. My employers have had a hold over my life and I have had to have my occupation as a writer approved by them: it was approved on the condition that –

1: I spent no more than 16 hours per month doing it, and
2: I did not divulge what my main occupation was, as to do so might result in me selling more books.

In a recent review, condition 1 was removed – I had been ignoring it for several years, anyway. That left number 2.

As of midnight tonight (GMT on 8 February 2013) I cease to be employed by them. I can now reveal that ‘them’ is the Metropolitan Police Service. I have completed 30 years service and it’s time for me to go, so I thought I would try this: now that I have revealed my secret, will it result in a glut of e-book sales? I very much doubt it, but it would be nice if it did.

The links to my e-books are here

Go on, prove that my employer was justly concerned: buy them in their thousands.

(If I sell even one I’d be surprised).

Monday, 17 December 2012

Fiction is stranger than, erm, er ... fiction?

Copyright ©
K J Bennett & L K Jay

In honour of Christmas, the New Year, good writing and total fantasy, this blog entry is given over to the characters from L K Jay’s popular contemporary fiction book, The Ghost Hunters Club.

The Ghost Hunters Club is the story of the loves and lives of Linda, Karen and Anna, three perfectly normal modern women who have as much difficulty finding a reliable man as they do finding a real ghost on their many trips to popular haunting sights. The sequel will be out soon, and the ladies want to talk about it.

Yep, three larger than life but wholly fictitious women are sitting here right now waiting to be interviewed. And that’s a problem: how can I interview three fictional characters? Oooo! I know: I’ll get Rathbone Kydd to do it. He’s not without experience - he interviewed an author once. And he’s fictional, so he won’t get flustered.

OK. Rathbone, meet Linda, Karen and Anna - the Ghost Hunters Club

RK: So, er, hi chick ... and chick, and, erm, chick. Great to be in the company of three such great-looking women. Make yourselves comfy, fluff the cushions, make coffee if you like ... mine’s black, no sugar, thanks. Right: anyone up for a massage? I ache like hell round the shoulders, I was wondering if one of you would be willing to volunteer ...

LINDA: Chick? Chick? Where do you think I came from, a chicken’s bottom?

RK: No. Huh, wouldn’t that make you an egg?

KAREN: I’ll give you black with no sugar, mister, and I’ll have milk and sugar in my coffee thanks.

ANNA: Well you can fluff my cushions, I like the moustache...

RK: OK, OK, don’t get tetchy! Only joking. So, three single ladies in good jobs and in need of lurve, eh? How about you each tell me a little about yourselves, y’know, jobs, interests, scandalous tales of your love lives, cup size, full contact details, et cetera. Let’s start with, hmm, Linda.

LINDA: Well young man, I’ve just been promoted and I’m now a deputy head in a posh private school in Edinburgh.  I’ll get to teach nice children instead of the plebs I had in my last job.  And did you behave yourself at school, Mr Kydd, hmm?  Anyway, I’m off men at the moment, so you can jolly well get your hand off of my knee, or I’ll have to put you in detention.

RK: Sorry, old habits and all. ‘Off men ...’ hmm, a challenge. Anyway, moving on (and checking the name badges) ... Karen. You look fit. A dancer? Stripper, maybe?

KAREN: Don’t push it pal, or I’ll set Linda on you.  I’m a martial arts instructor and I could snap you like a twig.  Except I won’t as you’ve just made me a coffee. 

RK: The least I could do. KJ said the budget wouldn’t stretch to whiskey, or drugs. Might have a bit of cheap sherry stashed away, for later, though.

KAREN: Anyway, we like ghost hunting, we’ve been on a few and I’m the first one to see a dead real ghost.  Excuse the pun.

RK: Not sure about excusing it ... ignoring it’s an option though, right? Heee, heee - don’t look at me like that, I’m just jesting. Right, that leaves Karen, no, Anna. Sorry, KJ’s writing on those badges is crap - much like his novels, so I hear. So, Kar–Anna (wow, sorry, sounds like some Russian chick) – what is it you do? As if I couldn’t guess.

ANNA: I’m a single parent but don’t let that put you off.  I have very well behaved children.  I work as a personal assistant to the director of a Northern Railway Company.  His name is Graham and he really likes trains – oh, and he likes to come ghost hunting with us as well.  Would you like to come ghost hunting with us, Randall? Linda has a very impressive torch.

RK: Wha – who the fuck is Randall? It’s Rathbone. Rath-emphasis-on-the-BONE. RATHBONE. It’s OK, I’m calming down, Kar-fuckit-Anna! AN-NA. Anna. Right, got it.

Linda rolls her eyes skyward.

RK: So. Ghost hunting ... OH! Is that why you call yourselves the Ghost Hunters’ Club? I wasn’t taking it literally, I just thought it was ’cos you dated a bunch of stiffs. In your case AN-NA (phew) I guess I’m right. Train spotter for a boss? Is he the Daddy, too?

ANNA: I’m not pregnant, I’m just curvy.  You have so blown it Randall, Rathbone, whatever, and I don’t mean in a fun way.  Anyway, you’re old enough to be my dad.  Bloody men.

RK: No, I didn’t mean you looked pregnant. It’s just that you mentioned being a mother, and I assumed, y’know, train spotters have urges, probably, and there’s you with the curves and the petty face, and there’s him with the anorak and the note book, and it can’t be easy for you, with the kids an’ all, and there’s those long lonely nights with the screaming and all that. And did you call me old? I’m only old in linear time scales. On my own scale I’m twenty-five, so probably a few years younger than you.

LINDA: You can’t be cruel to a widow, especially a rich one.  Anyway, we’re not convinced that her waste-of-oxygen husband has entirely gone away....

KAREN: But you’re right Rathbone, we went ghost hunting because we were fed up of going out with rubbish men.  I mean, how hard is it to turn up on time, remember to go to the cash point and remember whether you’re married or not?  We thought we’d throw our lot in with the ghosts; more chance of getting a spook on camera than finding a decent man.

RK: “A decent man” ... hmm ... I’m sorta decent, so much so that people say I’m IN-decent.

LINDA: (prods Rathbone) So are you actually real? What was time travel like? Is that moustache real?

RK: Am I real? Are you real? What is real? There was that Frenchie guy, Des Kart, I think he was called, who said, “I think, therefore I am”. Don’t know what all that shit was about, but the Moody Blues stole it and used it at the start of their LP On the Threshold of a Dream. Still doesn’t explain if my moustache is real, though. Hmm, maybe the moustache is the only real thing here ...  Right, time travel … what it feels like … it’s a bit like jelly, but faster.

But enough about me (did I really say that?), tell me about your ghost hunting adventures: what do you actually do: go places, pretend to look for ghostly spirits, but hit the spirit of the gin bottle instead? And you, Anna, who looks after the kids, or do you take ’em with you?

LINDA: Oh, now we get to the sensible questions!  Well, we do like going on ghost hunts.  We’ve been all over the country – Leeds, Whitby, Leicester and Edinburgh, which is the home of the scary ghost hunt.  But like they saying goes, looking for ghosts is like looking for a decent man, you can keep searching and you’ll never find one and then one will pop up when you are least expecting it.

KAREN: That happened to me.  I was let down by a man and then when I went to attend a friend’s do, a ghost popped up when I least expected it.  I wish I’d had a camera with me but of course, you never do when you need one.

Paris, June 1992
Copyright © K J Bennett
ANNA: I don’t normally have the children with me when we go ghost hunting, they go to stay with their grandparents when I do, but I might in the future.  Besides, that is the time I have to myself and I wouldn’t want them to see me get drunk and behave badly.  We’ve had a bit of a break from the ghost hunting but we’re going on a few more adventures soon, I hear Cambridge, London and even Paris might be on the cards.  Oh la la!

RK: Ooooo-la-Anna! You sound sexxx-sssee when you’re speaking French? Are you fluent? It is the language of lurve, y’know?

ANNA: Oh I am very fluent...

LINDA: Pack it in Anna, you don’t know where he’s been.  Sorry Mr Kydd, but really...

KAREN: Ladies, please!  I’m sure the men in France are as useless as the ones we’ve experienced in the UK.  We are in the EU you know, I’m sure there’s been a ruling from Brussels about the percentage of bad dates a woman has to go on.

RK: And Karen: why would a guy let you down? Apart from being a hottie, who’d risk the injury? Anyway, I bet that ghost thing was scary. I mean’ I’ve been in a similar situation when I worked in that gay pub in Exeter. Before I knew the lay of the land, so to speak, I went on a ghost walk round the back of the Cathedral with some of the guys, late one Saturday night, and let me tell you, a few scary things popped up that night, and I ran a mile. Talk about giving me the willies!

LINDA: Well, ghosts weren’t all that Anna saw in the underground tunnels in Edinburgh, but it was the best place for ghost hunting.  It’s a spooky city and full of atmosphere.

ANNA: Ahhh, the Edinburgh vaults, such nice memories.....

KAREN: Anna, I don’t know how you got away with it!  Although you’d be surprised how looking for ghosts and men can get mixed up.  They’re both elusive and at least the ghosts have an excuse for being unreliable, what with being dead and all.

RK: I don’t see they can use dead as an excuse. It’s not like they’ve got anywhere else to go, is it? So, tell me, did you find Dracula in Whitby? Yeah, I’m well read, I know the original story.

LINDA: No, but we did find a lot of tacky gifts, including some edible coffins.

KAREN: And I met a horrible ghost tour guide who didn’t believe in ghosts and tried to nick my wallet.  Good job the girls came to rescue me, I could have done him some damage.

RK: Now, ladies, tell me about these disasters you’ve had at speed dating. I mean, speed? Eh? I’m not surprised it went badly: anyone who tries to form a relationship based around drug abuse is destined to misery.

LINDA: Well I wished I’d taken some bloody drugs before I went, it was ghastly.  Turned out one of the men was a parent at my school, was terrified he would mention me to his irritating son, so I had to lie about my name.

KAREN: And one of the men said I should impress him so when I told him I could punch through wood, he wanted to know if I was a lezza.  I pointed out that he was both rude and offensive, both to me and the lesbian community, and offered to use his head as a piece of wood.  He declined.
ANNA: I got stuck with a very odd looking train spotter called Graham.  Total odd ball and kept staring at my boobs.  I get that a lot.  I suspect he still lives with this mother but I’ve got this feeling that that wasn’t the last time I would see him and of course, I ended up working for him.  Turns out he likes ghost hunting as well.

RK: What was that, Anna? I sorta lost track, staring at your boobs. Well, Christmas is almost here, and KJ tells me I’d better offer you some of this Port, Sherry and other stuff – mince pie, anyone? Good. Enjoy. KJ says he won’t charge you too much for them. Also, he’ss looking at his watch and making circular gestures. Don’t know what all that shit’s about. Anna, anything else I can, erm, do for you, mon amie?

ANNA: Oh well Mr Kydd, I do have some gardening that needs doing.  The lawn needs a mow, and the rose bushes need a trim.  I like a rugged outdoor man who’s good with his hands....

RK: Right … possibly I’m too smooth for you, but I’m REALLY good with my hands. Other parts of me perform even better, but that gardening stuff is a turn off.

But enough of this sleaze. I understand that your biographer, Miss L K Jay, she of the mysterious persona, is documenting your new adventures in a sequel. Are we in for any surprises in this one? A real ghost, perhaps, or a lover who scores ten out of ten on the scale of, say, me?

Linda: Well I still think men are crap, and I’ve sworn off of them.  Let’s face it; my internet dating record isn’t that good.  But I’m enjoying working at my new school with my best friend Chaz but we hear rumours that there may be a new project.  I don’t like the sound of that.

Karen: I was so pleased when I got together with the man I’d liked for so long, but as per usual, things don’t always go according to plan.  My martial arts business is going well, I hope there isn’t anything that will threaten that.

Anna:  My stupid husband, the only decent thing he managed to do was die, and now he just won’t stay dead!  Or dead enough…  And then there’s Graham’s new woman, now that came as a surprise.

RK: Ladies, it sounds like there's a lot of drama and trauma in store for you. It’s been really great talking with you all. You’re all great looking girls and you’re even more attractive when you talk. If you ever need a friend to talk with after one of the ghost hunts, or just a real man to … erm, you know? … then you know where to find me. Course, I may have teleported to a different space/time continuum by then, but you’ll know where I was.


The Ghost Hunters Return 

L K Jay 
will be available as an e-book in spring 2013:


Last time, the Ghost Hunters Club couldn’t find a ghost, or a decent date, for love nor money.  Now there’re too many!

Linda’s at her new school, Karen’s got her new man and Anna’s got her new money – what more do the women want?

They had a break but now they’re ready to pick up where they left off.  There are more ghosts, more personal disasters and a lot more adventures looking for both but one thing is for sure, they’ll be having lots of fun!

L K Jay’s links

Rathbone Kydd - sex’n’drugs’n’quantum stuff  

K J Bennett

is available now on these links - 
UK - US - FR - DE - ES - IT - JP

Wednesday, 12 December 2012

All I want for Christmas ...

Just for a change I thought I’d go all consumer and make some recommendations for your Christmas viewing.

Even with the plethora of digital TV channels, finding stuff to watch over the festering period can be difficult. So why not buy yourself some DVD/Blu-Ray entertainment? I list here my selection of the best programmes I’ve seen this year and which you can order for TV consumption before Christmas.


The Almighty Johnsons 
Imagine: you have reached the age of 21 and your brothers take you out to the woods, strip you naked and tell you that you are a reincarnated god.

This is one of the funniest and most bizarre series I’ve seen in many years, and a it’s major TV achievement for New Zealand. It is currently in its second season on the SyFy channel. It gets better every week.

In the 1800s, the Norse gods placed themselves in exile for reasons not yet divulged. It was obvious that they would, in their human form, emigrate to New Zealand: where else would they go. Since then, each of the gods is reborn. In the modern day, Odin is in the unlikely form of the rather innocent and well-meaning Axl Johnson. His brothers are gods, his parents were gods, and a fair number of the people he bumps into on his quest to find his true love, the Frigg, turn out to be gods.

The Almighty Johnsons - Season 1

The Almighty Johnsons - Season 2



This is a great series that is being shown in the UK on digital channel, Watch. It’s thrilling and funny, and brought to you by David Greenwalt – he who worked closely with Joss Whedon on Buffy and (mainly) Angel.

Grimm’s Fairy Tales were not stories: they were warnings. 
Supernatural beings live amongst us, but only they and descendents of the Grimms can see them for what they are unless they transform in anger. It is the role of the Grimm to hunt down and eliminate these creatures, but Nick Burkhardt is a little unorthodox...

Grimm Season 1


A thrilling time travel drama, aired on the SyFy channel. Not the most original plot line, but remarkably well done.

Change history – protect the future. 
In 2077 the corporations run everything (bit like now, then?). A terrorist organisation, Liber8, is fighting back. A force of ‘protectors’ – cyber-enhanced police – are fighting the terrorists. The leader of Liber8 and some of his top operatives are facing execution. At the point when they should die, they and one protector – Kiera Cameron (played by the lovely – Rachel Nichols) - are thrown back in time to 2012. Can Keira stop the terrorists from changing history – and should she even try?

Continuum Season 1

Continuum Season 2


Based on a Stephen King story, The Colorado Kid, this quirky and novel series is now in its second season. It was a bit of a slow starter in season 1, but as soon the over arching story line kicks in, the viewer is left begging for more. I want more, and season 4 is currently in production.

The New England town of Haven is exactly that to people who suffer from afflictions known as the Troubles. Some can kill with a single stare, others just need to think it to make it happen. Audrey Parker is on secondment from the FBI and assisting the local police department, but there is more to Audrey than meat the eye. Why does she appear, almost unchanged, in photographs taken nearly thirty years before, and why is she immune to the Troubles?

Haven – Season 1 – 3 


So if you like me enough to buy me a Christmas pressie, any of the above will do!