Cynical Exploitative Moneymaking Machine purchases other Cynical Exploitative Moneymaking Machine. And now, the weather.

Image kindly provided by Simon Pegg

I bloody love Star Wars, and I'm not ashamed to say so. Episode IV was the first ever film I saw at the cinema, and it had an incredible impact on me - I owe it a great deal in that it introduced me to one of my biggest loves, that of the world of movies. But I've banged on about that at length before.

To read about the making of Episode IV tells a tale of a very different George Lucas. It's a real and moving tale of Guerilla film-making, desperately seeking funds and showing half-completed clips to disappointed backers.

I think the rot started with Return of the Jedi - but it was a movie that could only ever have disappointed after the sublime Empire Strikes Back. One too many fart and burp gags and Chewbacca yodelling Tarzan noises, but it ended the series perfectly. Just as the first Matrix film did. A start, middle and an end. Job done.

But then, somewhere along the way, George, now apparently surrounded by individuals who dare not criticize him, decided he needed a few more check shirts - and the unnecessary prequels were born.

Right, Phantom Menace was a pile of shit - even the title (which sounds like slang for a gastric illness) is embarrassing  Even If we grit our teeth and ignore the existence of Jar Jar Binks, it's an utter crud-pile of a film. Based around the exciting adventure movie premise of a trade embargo (the central plot-line was, allegedly, a toss-up between a trade embargo or an intergalactic soft drink sellers convention), it is, from dismal start to abysmal finish, a cynical exploitative advert for action figures and tie-in video games. Remember that scene in Trainspotting where Ewan McGregor crawls into a toilet? He, against all odds, manages to surround himself with infinitely more shit in Phantom Menace. And Darth Maul the best thing in it? When did half decent make-up, a double bladed lightsabre and a few lines of dialogue replace the need for an interesting background and character development - Did I miss that memo?

I came out of the cinema doing exactly what my wife did when she went to see the Nightmare on Elm Street remake. I tried to convince myself it was good, but I wasn't fooling anybody. But - it was early days - the sequel had to be better, right?

Attack of the Clowns, for all its many, many faults, must be congratulated for one major achievement - If you'd thought that Jake Lloyd was the worst possible actor on the planet they could find to ever portray Anakin Skywalker, Lucas pulled the rabbit out of the hat in the casting of Hayden Christiansen. His performance is so wooden you could christen him Häydn and stick him on a shelf in Ikea. Out acted by the majority of furniture in the film, the romance between Anakin and Padme (Bless you) is about as convincing as Gary Glitters pleas of innocence. People were openly laughing at the dialogue between them in the screening I was at. This from the same man who created a believable romance between Han and Leia?

Lucasfilm - Now officially a Mickey Mouse Operation; a.k.a. "I
never said that Princess Leia had buck teeth.  I said she was
fucking goofy."

And finally Revenge of the Sith. It's the best of the three, but only in the same way that having one arm lopped off is infinitely preferable to having both removed. It's a hurried and botched attempt to tie up loose ends, and a little part of my soul died when the word 'Younglings' was mentioned - and that's all I'm going to say about it.

(As an aside, I feel that The Clone Wars series is infinitely better than any of the prequels. It's not overly ambitious, and in the most part is just entertaining fun and doesn't outstay its welcome).

So, the point. Yesterday it was announced that the House of Mouse have purchased Lucasfilm, and it's seems to have upset a lot of people - and I can't understand why.

One of the main issues for the fanboy upset seems to be - wait for it - that Disney are only in it for the money. No shit Sherlock. Because when George was putting Star Wars branded Action figures, Cereal, novels, video games, comics, place mats, plush toys, car seat covers, costumes, chopsticks, ice cube trays, soft drinks, sweet cigarettes, boardgames, pushchairs, air fresheners, bobble-heads, bathrobes, aquariums, soundtrack albums, cookbooks, coffee, toasters, oven gloves, rubber ducks, sleeping bags, rugs, perfumes, dog outfits, backpacks, porcelain plates and ant farms - or basically every product on planet Earth that could have a logo stuck on it - on every shelf he could find, he was solely doing it for the love of the Star Wars brand, wasn't he?

Get real.

The property has simply moved from one huge cynical exploitative mega-corporation that wants your money to another. Nothing has changed - the world is as it was.

As you were.

"Much Cynicism I sense in you, young David."
"Shut up, Yoda."

Pretty Funky

Artwork Copyright Simon Myers / PrettyFunky.com

It's rarely that I use this blog for anything other than shameless self-promotion, but I'd like to take this opportunity - for it is my wont to do so - to sing the praises of the artistic skills of young mister Simon Myers.

For one, he's one of the brains behind the phenomenally successful Drink and Draw evenings (along with collaborator Nigel Hopkins) which prove two things - firstly, that the combination of fine ales and a sketchpad go together perfectly, and secondly that despite the recent controversy (and short lived Boycott campaign) he's helped Browns return back to doing what it does so well - serve excellent beer and food.

The concept is simple - there's a theme to the evening  (Robots, Zombies), you're given a sketch pad and drawing equipment, and you spend the evening supping ale and doodling - in a pub full of people doing exactly the same thing. Your drawing talent is irrelevant - everybody loves to doodle, and it's not a competition. Unless you're me and therefore have to take it deadly seriously due to inherent Only Child syndrome.

But the primary reason behind this blog post is that if you're in the Midlands area in the forthcoming weeks, you could do a lot worse than pop into Browns and see Simons new exhibition on the top floor - "Pretty Funky - A Retro Daydream", a brilliant sixties themed series of works - the main piece of art accompanying this piece is an example of one of the pieces on display - Impressive stuff, I'll sure you'll agree.

Or failing, pop by his website. He's sickeningly talented and a thoroughly decent guy which means that I'll give him a suitable period of time in which to thrive before I'm forced to destroy him.

Seriously.

Pixelmash Theatre - the rest...

As there still appear to be some people on the planet who haven't seen the pixelmash films I did some time back, here are the remainder in no particular order in one handy-to-reach (and easy to squint at and ruin your eyesight) place...

Purgatory 1 in 188k

Ages before I did the full length Star Wars animations, I was messing about with seeing how much I could pack into a 250k GIF file - and the resounding answer seemed to be "quite a lot" - These were originally done for the website b3ta (the puerile digital arts community) back when I was a member. I think I'd either just watched Unforgiven and had read too many Preacher Graphic novels when I did these. It was only designed as a one off, but I somehow managed to shoehorn in two sequels as well. Have some moody monochrome western pixel jiggery-pokery.

Purgatory in 256k

Looking back at these, I'm quite fond of them. They're way simpler than my later stuff, and I quite like the distinct lack of colour to them. The first ones a proper self contained story and didn't really need a sequel, though - and the second one quite clearly has some nicked rotoscoping footage of a horse galloping as well. Shameless thievery.

Purgatory 3 in 116k

These didn't get a great deal of response on b3ta when I posted them, I seem to recall. However, a few months after this I did the original Star Wars Trilogy and everything went crazy for a couple of weeks - I was being interviewed for magazines and getting goody bags from Lucasfilm, and these particular gifs seemed to loop the internet for several weeks. Awesome (but very odd) times.

Ghostbusters in 244k

If memory serves (and you have to remember I am very old) these are presented in the (kind of) order I made them in. Ghostbusters was an attempt to try something a little different, and with hindsight I'm not sure it works - it's supposed to be watched like a comic with multiple panels, but it's all a bit busy and some of the art in it is very very rushed. However, I like the bigger size to mess around with - I seem to recall really struggling to fit this within the 250k confines I'd set myself. I never did Ghostbusters 2 for the same reason I never did Star Wars Episodes 1, 2 and 3 - because these used to take me ages and I couldn't find the drive to do films I never liked - and boy did I hate Ghostbusters 2.

Back to the Future in 251k

These were all done around the same time as I was taking submissions for the Indiana Jones trilogy that I did - little by little I was messing more around with photoshop filters and learning tricks and techniques that made each subsequent pixelmash slightly easier or prettier.  I'm really fond of Back to the Future - namely because I love the larger look and detail of the sprites, even though it loses something in the storytelling. The detail meant that it simply couldn't be as long as the other ones, although I like the look of Marty McFly in these.

Flash Gordon in 240k

Flash Gordon - I'm quite fond of this one as well, although it's a little rushed. I am however happy I managed to get the "Hawkmen - dive!" bit put in there. And you'll see how I shamelessly stole the Flash Gordon Logo from the internet and didn't even attempt to do a pixelmash version myself. Some interesting parallax in there as well - that takes forever in the archaic way I was designing these things.

Jaws in 228k

And then the last one I ever did. Jaws. Really going to town on the bloody photoshop filters with this one, which makes bits of it look pig ugly when the colour depth is toned down. Still, I really like this one though - and am particularly fond of the close up on Roys face and the fact I managed to get the head floating in the boat - the one bit of Jaws that still scares me to this date.

And finally, because they're my favourite films, Alien and Aliens. I like these a lot, and a bit of trivia for you, fact fans, is that Druid (the other occasional contributor to this blog) drew the face of Jones in Alien. A lot of the rest of it looks a bit video-gamey though....

Ah, Ceefax - we hardly knew ye.

Nick Griffin hates everything that isn't Nick Griffin

Nick Griffin MEP

Loveable Roly-poly Cyclopean racist Nick Griffin, fresh from offending approximately every catholic with a recent tweet using the carefully chosen word 'Fenian', has again hit the headlines by tweeting the address of the gay couple who recently won a landmark ruling after being turned away from a guest house and urging a British Justice team* to demonstrate outside their house.

In a frank interview this morning Griffin finally admitted to hating everything that isn't Nick Griffin. "Many years ago I sat down and wrote a list of all the things I hated and it only took up a single sheet of A4. Since then, years of self-loathing and bitter resentment have took said list to a stage where it had to be computerised, stored on three large database servers (nicknamed "Enoch", "Adolf" and "Breivik") and and carefully administered 24/7 by a crack team of BNP programmers."

Griffins original list

"With my admission of yesterday that I hate homosexuals as well, my team proudly informed me that I now despise every single thing on the planet that isn't me. And to think, there are a lot of closed minded people out there who think I only hate the blacks."

"I mean - lets have a look randomly through some of the things I hate from this alphabetized list - Captain Planet,  Dougal, House bricks, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Pikachu, Rolf Harris, The teleporter bracelets from Blakes 7 and WKD Blue. These are not the thought processes of a normal person."

"My tweets yesterday were so bile-filled they verged on being slightly ridiculous. I even mentioned heterophobia which, quite frankly, is something that nobody on the planet has ever been a victim of. Ever. I'm in danger of becoming a parody of myself which I'd better keep a check on. I'll hate myself if that happens - and that would be terrible, although - come to think of it - would satisfy my need for completion."

"Oh, and I hate this chair. But I assume you took that for granted."
"Fucking chair."

* British Justice is unfortunately unlikely to be the name of an awesome UK based team of Super heroes.

Raiders of the lost Gif

A few years ago, after the success of the Pixelmash Star Wars films I did, I decided to enlist the help of other animators from the website www.b3ta.com that I used to be a member of - the idea was simple; to take a chunk of the three Indiana Jones films and create a colossal collaborative mega-epic.

Well, anyway, the internet is as we know cyclical, and the last couple of weeks have seen these emerge in a few places on the internet again - presumably due to the bluray release of the Indiana Jones series of films - so here for your delectation and (dubious) delight.. The Indiana Jones Pixelmash Trilogy!*

There of course, being only three Indiana Jones films.  That's right, three. In the same way that they only made Star Wars Episodes 4, 5 and 6. Tum te tum.

The Credits for each chunk are in the border at the top - the different styles make it, I feel. Some bits of it still make me laugh, even now.

Prepare to be Judged!

The illustration for todays blog post comes to you courtesy of the letters J, C, the number 5 and the awesome design skills of Paul Elder, courtesy of Paul Elder Design. Thanks Paul!

A tale of conventions, fandom, heroes and epic queuing

Right, first things first; I was completely blown away by the amount of support and nice comments from you lovely readers on the last piece I wrote for this blog.  I didn’t write it to prove I was strong or brave; I just hoped I could put over a viewpoint that maybe some of you hadn’t considered before.  I felt I needed to stick up for survivors of abuse and judging by a couple of texts I received, there are a few of us out there, which is upsetting because it shows how widespread abuse is.  My intention was never to upset you, but I did, it wasn’t to shock you, but I did that too.  I just couldn’t let the victim blaming and the claims that the survivors were ‘just out for money’go unchallenged.  I thank you all so much for reading my piece.

Now, enough of that.  My new blog post isn’t nearly as depressing as the last one so LET'S GO!

I’m sure by now you’ll all have gathered that David has begun doing the convention circuit in his Judge Dredd outfit, you may have picked up hints here and there…

Every con or show he goes to, this exchange occurs: 

Him: “I’d love it if you were to come to one of the shows with me”

Me:  “It’s not happening.  I’m not interested.”  And so it goes, as sure as night follows day.

One day, a few weeks back, we were having the same conversation as the Entertainment and Media Show at Olympia was fast approaching and David was going along to troop with his fellow costumers.  He went on, and eventually in frustration, I said “There’s only one person who’d get me to a convention and that’s Robert Englund, now leave me be, I’m trying to have a bath”.

Well, the next day whilst I was idling at work daydreaming and drinking tea, I got a ‘phone call from D:

Him: “You know you said you’d never go to a convention unless Robert Englund was going?”

Me: “Yes. Why, what?”

Him: “GUESS WHO’S JUST SIGNED UP FOR EMS??”

Me: “No….he…has he?  Holy shit!”

It was true.  I reckon David must’ve sent him an email or something to ask him to attend, but yes Robert Englund, the man who had terrified me and made me laugh for years and years was going to be there.  Well, of course I had to go…

Summer 1986: My auntie and two cousins were over visiting from Ireland.  My mum and auntie hire out ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ and hide it out of the way of me, my two older brothers and my cousins.  The grown ups were having a night out and we were left in the hands of my oldest brother who was 16.  Well, of course armed with the knowledge that a scary film was in the house, the older kids went looking for it and subsequently found it.  And we all watched it.  Cue a long standing fear of the dark and years of nightmares for me.  Even now, I hate having to nip down to the loo in the middle of the night in case Freddy Krueger is lurking in the dark, ready to chop me into bits.  And I’m 33.  That’s the impact that low budget horror flick and its terrifying protagonist had.  And I was hooked.  The character of Freddy terrified me so much that whenever he was mentioned, or Robert Englund was interviewed on TV, I would hide.  I was so scared.  My mum did her best trying to tell me that Freddy wasn’t real, and that the man who plays him was just a normal man but Freddy WAS real.  He existed in dreams and to a young kid who had incredibly vivid dreams, I saw him most nights there.

As I got older, I sought out the rest of the films in the series of which there are eight (I realise that this links to a page that says there are nine films but the remake in 2010 was RUBBISH and therefore doesnt count).  I pored over any articles I could find referring to the films or the actors.  I read the novelisations, I watched anything that Robert Englund or Heather Langenkamp (Nancy from NOES 1 and 3) were on.  I was hooked.

So, back to now, this was my chance to meet the man who scared me all those years ago.  As David was trooping, I met up with our good friend Hickman at Earls Court tube station and we walked down to Olympia.  On our approach, we were met with the sight of a girl in tears on the ‘phone, looking down at a photograph she was carrying.  She’d just met Matt Smith and couldn’t quite believe it.  Hah, I thought to myself, what a sad case…

Into the events hall itself and to a convention virgin, it was pretty overwhelming.  There were several Doctor Whos (from 1 to 11), loads of Ghostbusters, Wolverine, Batman, some Anime types and of course Judge Dredd (although to give him his correct title, Judge Court).  David had managed to get me a signing ticket for Robert Englund.  I was ticket Number 1.  I ran down to queue up but was told that he was going to do some photos and to come back later.  So I ran to join the photo queue which was massive and already snaking around the hall.  Then I noticed I didn’t have a signing pass so had to go and get a pass.  Crestfallen, I went to the pass stand and began queuing.  AGAIN.  There were various people around me whinging cos such and such had dropped out.  I purchased my pass and ran back to rejoin the queue for my photo.  Hickman had joined me by then and as we moved in line in the queue we were people watching, noting that one chap in the queue ahead of us seemed to have dressed up as Guy Garvey.  It hadn’t hit me really until I got right near the front, had my ticket taken and could actually see the man who in my eyes was an utter horror legend.  And then I got a little nervous.  I’m notorious for hating most photographs taken of me, and I was sure this one would be no exception.  The lads having their pictures taken were posing with him as victims, the girls seemed to smile or pout (which I didn’t really get).  It was my turn, I said ‘Hi, would it be okay if you like GOT me?’ and he obliged.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was here with one of my heroes, having my picture taken.  As I walked out, I said thanks and the photographer and Robert’s wife Nancy both looked at the photo and smiled, ‘That’s a good one’ Nancy said.  I walked out and saw David and Hickman, and I did a little dance.  I went to collect my bags and what can be described as the greatest photograph ever taken of me.  Looking behind me, there was a girl who was inconsolable when she came out of the room.  Again, like the previous girl who’d met Matt Smith, I shrugged and thought ‘Christ, get a LIFE’.

We wandered about, if I’m honest, there wasn’t much there I wanted to see.  The three of us had our photos taken on the Game of Thrones throne (clearly my previous awesome photo used up all my good photo for that day and subsequently my pic from that is a bit rubbish).  The sight of Judge Court on the Game of Thrones throne is pretty cool though. 

I uploaded my awesome photo to Facebook and continued wandering.  I saw Robert’s signing queue had opened up again after a while, and so went to join only to be told to come back later.  It was the same girl who’d turned me away before but she did ask what number ticket I was.  When I told her I was ticket number 1, she let me join the queue which was great because it meant I didn’t have to break anything. 

The queue was enormous as it had been earlier on when I’d attempted to join.  I’d overheard from one of the staff members that this was because Robert loved his fans and loved chatting to them.  I did know this, he actually really thinks a lot of his fans and would spend all day chatting to them if he could.  Also, if a fan brings something of interest or some fan art that he particularly likes, he will offer to buy it to add to his NOES collection.

I was nearing the front of the queue, David and Hickman were watching me from afar and they both said that I looked like an excited little kid (which I was, effectively).  Then there was only one person in front of me.  Great, I thought, I’ve got five minutes to decide what I’m going to say’.  But I didn’t.  The guy in front rocked up for an autograph and just fucked off.  So I was thrust into meeting my hero with no opening…what do I do? 

I handed over my ticket and the poster I wanted him to sign and he looked at it quizzically for a moment and then a massive smile of realisation spread across his face: “Have you watched this?” – I’d brought a poster from a documentary I have which is about NOES series of films, spin offs, etc. a four and a bit hour epic.  I told him I had watched it and wanted to say how wonderful it was but he interrupted telling me he and his wife watched the whole thing in one go and how it was a massive labour of love, very much a product of its time….it was true, he LOVES to chat.  I could tell, though, from the moment he looked at it, that he hadn’t signed anything quite so uncommon that day, people seemed to be getting the pics they’d had taken with him earlier, or pics of him as Freddy or pics of him as Willie from V but nothing like what I’d brought.

I told him about why I’d gone to the convention (without sounding like TOO much of a psycho) and said that my husband who was dressed as Judge Dredd was to blame for me being there.  Nancy, Robert’s wife, had commented that she’d seen David walking around.  And then Robert said that he really loves coming to the UK and his Valentine and love letter to the UK had just finished filming the previous evening; Hallowe’en special Come Dine With Me.  He shook my hand and it was time to go… and you know those girls I mentioned who had been crying because they’d met their heroes?  You can add me in.  I was left reeling from meeting one of the biggest heroes I had (after having to bump Morrissey off and then losing an actual true life hero).  I met up with David and Hickman and I was CRYING, and shaking and had a massive grin across my face that couldn’t be moved.

I was walking on air for the rest of the day, as I left David at Olympia and went in search of ukuleles with Hickman on Denmark Street, I don’t think the smile ever left my face.

Going for terrified, seems to be more OH EM GEE...

The Jimmy Savile Situation

I can still remember exactly what I was wearing, a royal blue cordouroy skirt and a royal blue tee shirt with a little red and blue pattern on the front, the left side.  It was a new outfit, I was going to a birthday party, I was seven. My mum said why didn't I go to our neighbours house to show Lily my new outfit. Lily and her husband didn't have kids and so she doted on me as her own.

I knocked the door and after a time, a strange man answered. I asked if Lily was in and through broken English, he told me she was not but beckoned me in, he told me she wouldn't be long. He was huge, I remember, with a massive bushy beard. I vaguely knew he was a holy man but that's it. I was very shy and his English wasn't great, so we didn't speak much.  He asked me to come over to him, and as I did so, he sat me on his knee.  Then he abused me.  I can still feel the bristles of his beard against my cheekbone, going into my eye as he did what he did.

I was only seven. I knew I didn't like what was happening, and I thought it was wrong, but I didn't comprehend how wrong.  It happened a couple more times afterwards, when Lily was out. I soon learned to never go to Lily's when I knew he was there.

So, did I tell anyone about my abuse? Well quite simply the answer to that is no.  Why? Because I was a scared child and he was a grown up, a holy man, quite high up in his faith. I didn't think anyone would believe me, I didn't want to hurt Lily, she was my friend and I didn't tell my parents because I was scared of what would happen.

Now let's cut to me, age 17/18. Repressed memories was the name of the game. I heard from Lily that my abuser had died. The memories all came flooding back to me and I broke down. I was free, but I still didn't tell my parents because I was still scared. And I daren't tell Lily. I eventually didn't tell my mum until I was about 24.  And she believed me, and she cried with me and she was angry she called him all the names under the sun. She asked me why I hadn't told her and I explained that I was scared, how I knew it was wrong but as I was only seven I didn't know just how wrong it was.  Also, I said I didn't know if she'd believe me, and that I didn't want to hurt Lily, and have her hate me...

All of which brings me to the current news surrounding the late Jimmy Savile. Having watched Exposure on Wednesday night, I felt had a sort of connection with the survivors of his abuse. The fear that if you said anything, no one would believe you, the fear of alienation by your family/peers. But the thing I think that has angered me are the people saying 'well, why wait til he's dead? He can't defend himself'. I can't speak for those he abused, but in my case, I waited until my abuser was dead because I was old enough to comprehend what was done to me by then, and just how wrong it was. Jimmy Savile's survivors knew that it was wrong, one in fact, a resident at a Dunford School for Girls was placed in isolation after her accusation:

Charlotte, was 14 when she first met Savile. She revealed how she was even punished after telling teachers he had assaulted her in his caravan.  

"I remember that I sat on his lap. And then I felt this hand sort of go up my jumper and on my breast. I absolutely freaked out.  Then I was just dragged out of the caravan by two of the staff... and told what a filthy mouth I have, how can I make those terrible accusations, Uncle Jimmy does nothing but good for the school. I was taken to the isolation unit, left there for two or three days."

How could you accuse someone at the top of their game in the entertainment field of child abuse? Look at the hate campaign against the woman raped by Ched Evans, labelled a slut and a whore because she accused and successfully prosecuted him.  To use the claim 'He can't defend himself as he isn't here anymore' is little more than victim blaming and there is never EVER any excuse for that.

The truth is, someone with Jimmy Savile's level of fame and his connections, was just let get on with it.  As Paul Gambacinni stated Jimmy's work for charity seemed to cover up the fact that he was a paedophile.  And all the stars and celebrities who knew and turned a blind eye to the horrific abuse he carried out should hang their heads in shame.  As the saying goes 'All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing'.

The Router Hell is paved with good intentions

Dear Mr. Richard Branston,

This isn't the first letter I've written to you - you might remember the incident with your brand of pickle and my ipad from this time last year. That letter was to congratulate you for the strength of your pickle jars, and this one is for something similar in that I will praise your fine internet service.

After we decided not to give any more of our money to the nasty Mr. Murdoch, we decided to switch from Sky to Virgin Media for our telephone, television and broadband. We knew you provided internet over fibre-optic cable to my house because your company was kindly sending me approximately two letters a week to inform me (On a related note I'm glad that now we've switched to Virgin Media we only get one such letter a week. Which tends to arrive at the same time as a letter from Sky begging us to come back. Oh, how we smile).

The telephone line is as it was before, I.e. barely used, and the television is impressive. However, where you really shine is in the quality of your broadband - Allow me to elaborate.

I'm sure you'll agree with me that in the 21st century we humans, as a species, are overloaded with information. A regular Internet user has so many usernames and passwords it's sometimes difficult to keep track of them all - so I'd like to offer you my personal thanks in as much as that every fortnight or so my router suddenly resets to all its factory defaults. This means that the SSID resets to what it was in the first instance and I can now find the username ("admin") and password ("changeme") handily written on the back of the modem. I need forget my personal details no more - and it makes logging onto my router an absolute doddle for any internet starved passers-by - and for that you have my thanks. If any of your employees are reading this, they're welcome to use my internet - constant emails tell me that you'll be doubling my internet speed in March April May June July August September October, so I'll have loads to spare.

If this wasn't impressive enough, I'm also especially pleased that every now and then my router just stops transmitting wirelessly altogether and that I have to switch it off and on again - sometimes several times in a single night. You're absolutely correct in your assumption that I have a tendency to be lazy in the evenings, and the exercise in having to wander over to the router to power cycle it is very much appreciated.

A lesser man would want a life of convenience and would want to be rid of this enhanced functionality. However, at Virgin you all know me too well, which is why you refuse to answer the phones when I call to get this sorted out. Keep up the good work, and in turn you'll keep me as a happy healthy mentally alert customer.

All the very best,

David