Monday, 23 November 2009

Events.. over there, look. >>>

Hello, you.

A couple of events you might like to be aware of, if you're in That London tomorrow (which I won't be, alas). First up, Charlotte Jo Hanbury is improvising with a live jazz band at Spice of Life (Tel. 020 7739 3025, info@spicejazz.co.uk) tomorrow night. Secondly, same night, Mark Watson is headlining at Fat Tuesday Comedy Club, upstairs at The Compass (ticket info here).

If you've got a gig/event to plug, email me at dystopianfuchsia@live.co.uk.

Coming soon... The Gallery. ;) Keep 'em peeled.

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Children's Television: The Re-Imagining

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Ulysses 31

The Odyssey drifted soundlessly through the void, its captain tired but happy. Despite all the evidence, he'd never really considered how their adventures seemed to recall ancient Greek mythology. The clues were always there, to be fair, but Ulysses was usually too busy preening to think about it, his flowing locks and Richard Stilgoe beard the most important things in the universe. Since putting two and two together (realising that he was called Ulysses was quite a large clue), he abandoned his quest to save his crew, and searched the galaxy for those more colourful aspects of ancient Greece that he'd read about on the, um, Space Internet.

The past fortnight, they'd spent time on the planet Dionysia 5, in the city of Orgion. Perhaps not the best of things to expose Telemachus to at his age, but what sort of father would he be if he didn't, somehow, explain the birds and the bees? Here he now stood on the bridge of his ship, the echoes of his son's vomiting echoing along the bulkhead, Ulysses headed to his quarters, passing the telepathic Yumi. She paused to read his mind, screamed, and ran down the corridor in floods of tears. Ulysses decided to have a cold shower.

He reached his quarters, the shame of a fortnight's debauchery weighing heavily on his conscience. There, sprawled coquettishly on his bed, was the creepy little robot Nono, as apt a name as any right now, as he made suggestive gestures with a rusty screw. Ulysses felt nauseous, slightly concerned at the burning itch that had flared up.

Read dozens more here. Send your requests to me on Twitter to @IanHewett.

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Monday, 23 November 2009

Events.. over there, look. >>>

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