... then Bobby stepped out of the shower. He wasn't dead after all. "Shit," thought Pamela, "it's just like that time Dystopian Fuchsia came back."

Not a hoax! Not a dream! I'm writing a blog!

I've not wanted to leave poor old Dystopian Fuchsia so long unattended, but I did warn you... several times... remember? No? Good.

There's a couple of reasons why it's been nearly a month since the last post. Firstly, I'm (at last) no longer dole scum. That belittling description is now only fulfilled by one of its component words, as it should be. However, in a bizarre twist of probability, I am not a Murdoch henchperson, as previously reported. No, I'm now in Account Management for a mobile phone network. More on that soon.

The other, more fun outside factor is Destinauts. I promised it for ages, and the first issue is now online. When you're scripting, storyboarding, pencilling, inking, colouring, lettering and editing everything yourself, for free no less, it can take some time, but at last, the 16-page début tale is available to read now, and literally some of you have taken the opportunity to catch their origin. As I said, it is entirely free; I'm not a published artist in the real world, so I wouldn't feel comfortable charging anyone for my work. It's a labour of love, and it has now been messily birthed.

Go to www.Destinauts.co.uk to read the start of the adventure for Cynicus, Dr Fubar and the Human Wall, three supervillains blundering their way through history quicker than you can say "butterfly effect". At time of writing, there are 16 followers; please take the time to scroll down when you go there to add your name, and spread the word. Ta.

So, what other fun shenanigans has been happening, then? There's the General Election coming up, a chance to remove an unpopular, unelected anachronism from power... no, not the Queen. There's not much in the way of choice, though; you have David "Broken, Broken Record" Cameron, a man so far up his own arse he can see Mrs Thatcher's shoes, and there's Clegg, who's only in the running following the death of Compo (or De-Compo, as he's now known). If Labour stay in power, we're fucked. If anyone else gets in, we're fucked. Stalemate.

Oh, there was the volcano. Apparently, there was a cloud of ash floating over the UK following the eruption. Now, I wasn't 100% sure it was there, but either there was a cloud of volcanic ash overshadowing Cardiff, or half the population were barbecuing with sulphur brickettes. It was like Port Talbot had decided to move next door. This, of course, means nothing to you if you've never been there. To help you along, it smells like an Icelandic volcano spewing a sulphuric ash cloud.

So, my new job. Well, it's a wonderful feeling earning money again. I've learned many things during my training. Write these down, it could save you a fortune.

• If there's a fault with the reception on your mobile phone, work out precisely where the transmitter is. If you then stand in your garden directly between your phone and where the transmitter is and wave your arms, you should clear any blockages to the signal.
• If the above step fails, there could be crows nesting on the signal. If you text DEATH to your provider, this should clear the signal.
• A specialist team of cleaners will remove any guano left by the birds once cleared from the signal path. Any guano left floating there is a hazard to low-flying aircraft; this has been falsely identified as UFO sightings in the past.
• No matter where you turn, no matter where you go, you can always rely on The General Public to be Exactly The Fucking Same As You Remember Them.

Some of the above may not be 100% true.

Just so you know, I haven't forgotten this place. You don't fork out on dot commage to leave something you've worked hard on to rot away. I still have to write about the new Doctor Who (including the unfortunate incident at the weekend when Graham Norton came onto Matt Smith's gurning face), more Children's TV Re-Imaginings to add, a sidebar to add here with all previous postings since November 2009 in a convenient place that isn't a blog archive list that means absolutely fucking nothing, and many more things that you may or may not or shouldn't care about.

Oh, thanks to former Marvel/Doctor Who Magazine editor John Freeman for the Destinauts (and Dystopian Fuchsia) plug on downthetubes.net...

Back soon with more crap... I promise. No, really.

Hope you're well. You're looking well.