Welcome back, dear blog reading fiends, to the show that never ends (apart from those, increasingly frequent, times when this blogger finds his very self too knackered to even think about pulling a new From The North update together - see below). The weather has taken a turn for the hotter-than-you'd- like - significantly hotter in fact - and the world remains a big, scary, rather threatening place. So, no change there, then. Meanwhile, Việt'Nam has, reportedly, banned the forthcoming Barbie movie. Which, one trusts, From The North favourite Margot Robbie's legion of fans in Ho Chi Minh City are bloody outraged about. Wars have been fought over lesser issues, dear blog reader. Particularly in that region, as it happens.
Meanwhile, here is a quick message for all of From The North's many dear American blog readers, belatedly, for yesterday.
On that bombshell, let us kick-off this latest From The North bloggerisationisms update with some blog housekeeping notes. This blog's most recent 'I will not celebrate meaningless milestones' moment occurred on Thursday 29 June when From The North had its twelve millionth page hit since 2006. Or, at least, since Keith Telly Topping started counting page hits which was around 2006. Which, presumably, means that either this blog has got but one regular dear blog readers (who has a lot of time on his and/or her hands) or twelve million people have been desperately in search of pornography and stumbled into this gaff by accident. This blogger could go either way on that particular score.
Incidentally, 29 June is also the birthdate of Prasanta Chandra Mahalanobis and, in India, because of this fact is celebrated as 'National Statistics Day'. All of which, in view of the next couple of items on the From The North agenda, is really rather comforting.
That twelve millionth visitor moment occurred just one day before Google - in their infinite wisdom and for reasons best known only to themselves - decided to change their Analytics page which has been this blog's regular companion and measuring method since around 2009. As usual, Goggle did all of this without bothering to ask their customers whether they actually wanted the Analytics Home site updated to their spankin' new G4A malarkey. Or, indeed, to give their customers the option to retain the old, much more user-friendly, version if they preferred. Don't you just hate it, dear blog readers, when companies pull those sort of crass, thoughtless stunts? Anyway, all whinging aside, before the old Analytics page shuffles off this mortal coil this blogger was able, one last time, to grab a complete record of From The North's daily traffic since August 2009.
Plus a graph which demonstrates the significant increase in daily page hits From The North has been receiving over the last year-and-a-bit whilst this blogger has been, mostly, stuck within the four walls of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House, his heart-rate uncannily matching the aesthetics of his particular illustration. Alive. Just.
Atypically, that day (Saturday 1 July) saw From The North's traffic breaking the ten thousand page hits barrier for the first time since 25 March of this year. Not, quite, hitting the heights of this blog's largest day of bandwidth consumption (Saturday 11 March, when a quite staggering thirteen thousand three hundred and fifty two dear blog readers found something worth visiting From The North for). But, still, it was a useful reminder to this blogger that a) sometimes, he can give some of the people what some of the people they want. And, b) he should, on a daily basis (or, as often as the blog gets updated), thank all From The North dear blog readers. That's a big thanks to all of you; the regulars, the occasional visitors and those of you who have merely stumbled in here in search of pornography. Sorry for the absence of the latter but we've got some Doctor Who news coming up if that floats yer boat.
Following on from the the dramatic last bloggerisationsms report about The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House acquiring a new laptop, this blogger's Total Recorder app was sorted thanks to the generous help of their support team. The Shop & Scan app was also sorted thanks to the kindly help of their support team. This blogger does like it, dear blog reader, when support teams actually do what it says on the tin and ... support. Good on them. This blogger then moved on to the lengthy - and, at the time of writing, still not quite complete - process of moving lots of music files around. It was mostly going onto USB sticks (with a full back-up on the detachable hard drive, obviously) and two recently ordered one hundred twenty GB sticks turned up on Wednesday morning to aid in the task. It was all going really quickly until Keith Telly Topping got to The Pink Floyd discography after which it became a tedious trial of things inching over at a rate of about five kilobytes a second (ie. effing slowly). There was probably a metaphor in there, somewhere. Thank God this blogger hadn't have any Genesis, Yes, Queen or other pompous rock to dump over - on general principle - and only two LPs (the good ones) by The Police. This blogger doesn't think his poor USB stick(s) would be able to take the trauma.
Yesterday, dear blog reader, this blogger took one of his - increasingly occasional - trips into town, to pay over fifteen effin' quid to see Indiana Jones & The Dial Of Destiny. Mainly to check out if the reverse of the Star Trek movies-thing still holds true (odd numbered ones are good, even numbered ones ... not so much).
This blogger had two optional photos ready to convey his general mood after watching the movie. Thankfully, he ended up going with this one.
Admittedly, it was about twenty minutes too long (something it shares in common with most movies these days, particularly in relation to Keith Telly Topping's tortured bladder). There was probably one chase scene too many (although, the production is to be congratulated for managing to produce one of cinema's first ever horse/motor bike/car/subway chase sequences) and the final scene came over as a bit superfluous, frankly. But, this blogger enjoyed it over all (featuring as it did several of his favourite actors). Not as good as Raiders or Last Crusade - few movies are - but miles better than the other two. It was particularly nice to see From The North favourite good old Mads Mikkelsen chewing the Nazi-scenery in best Michael Byrne/Ronnie Lacey-style whilst, essentially, playing Wernher von Braun!
A trio of trailers shown before the movie certainly whetted the appetite. Two of them, this blogger had seen before - Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning (Part One) still looks every bit as testosterone-snorting as you'd imagine it to be (and then some). Barbie remains Mad! As Toast! (and, really good fun). The one which this blogger hadn't seen previously was Christopher Nolan's forthcoming Oppenheimer, which looks great. Elemental, on the other hand, this blogger reckons he'll probably give that one a miss.
From The North favourite Simon Pegg - soon to be seen in the next Mission: Impossible movie, the trailer for which is nails - has claimed that nobody needs a sequel to Shaun Of The Dead. During an interview with some Middle Class hippy Communist at the Gruniad Morning Star, Pegg revealed that people 'always' ask him about a potential sequel and explained why it isn't a good idea. 'If I ever do an Instagram Live or whatever, people are always like, "I need Shaun Of The Dead 2 in my life,"' he said. 'And I'm like, "No, you don't fucking need Shaun Of The Dead 2! The last thing you need is Shaun Of The Dead 2! It's done. Move on!"' The horror comedy, written and directed by Edgar Wright, became a cult hit. It also spawned two semi-follow-ups: the superb Hot Fuzz and the not-bad-but-not-as-good-as-Hot-Fuzz The World's End, which make up The Cornetto Trilogy. Simon is more interested in adding another film to the series than going back to do a Shaun Of The Dead sequel, suggesting that he and Edgar have met up to see if they can create a fourth film. 'Hard to believe it's nine years since we were shooting The World's End,' he said in an Instagram post earlier this year. 'Hey [Nick Frost] and [Edgar Wright], it's about time we assembled again, isn’t it?' So, presumably Hot Fuzz 2 isn't entirely out of the question, then?!
National heartthrob David Tennant will soon be seen reprising his role as The Doctor for three sixtieth anniversary specials - you knew that, right? - and has claimed that while his and Catherine Tate's returns to Doctor Who 'took a bit of wrangling' they were 'always receptive to the notion.' He told Radio Times (which used to be run by adults): 'Initially, it was a casual conversation going, "Wouldn't it be fun to do a one-off?" Then Russell was back running the show and suddenly it could be something bigger. But there's really no pressure. It's a victory lap, in a way - you get to enjoy something that had meant so much to you one last shot before you get too old to do it again.' Asked whether he has seen his successor in the role, Tennant revealed that he has, indeed, seen Ncuti Gatwa in action, adding: 'It makes me feel like I'm just holding the coat till he arrives, because he's very exciting.'
And, speaking of Ncuti, the new Doctor has been doing a lot of interviews recently in relation, not only with Doctor Who but also his regular role in Sex Education and an appearance in the forthcoming Barbie movie (banned in Việt'Nam, remember, so Ncuti's rapidly expanding fanbase in Hanoi are going to be right out of luck). For instance, check out the following articles in British Vogue, Gay News and the NME. Meanwhile, location filming on the new series of Doctor Who continues in Welsh Wales.
From The North favourite Neil Gaiman has responded to the question of whether he will be writing more episodes of Doctor Who in the future. Neil wrote for Doctor Who during Matt Smith's era as The Doctor, scripting the episodes The Doctor's Wife (which was really good) and Nightmare in Silver (which wasn't), as well as a DVD-exclusive mini-episode. Neil recently replied to a fan of his on Tumblr page asking would Neil be interested in writing for the BBC's popular long-running family SF drama again: 'On Doctor Who, I don't know. I love being in the Doctor Who audience and being really excited to not know what's coming,' he said. In other words, 'I haven't been asked, if I was, I'd consider it.' Yet, dear blog reader, some smear of no importance at the Screen Rant website has taken this entirely non-committal two-line posting and written a thousand word article about it. Which, if you have a higher tolerance for rank and utter horseshit than this blogger, you can read here. Don't say you weren't warned.
Not that Neil is likely to have much time to return to Doctor Who anyway. Locations in Dorset are reportedly being used to film the second series of the Netflix adaptation of Neil's The Sandman. Tom Sturridge was seen recording a scene for the fantasy drama at Durdle Door beach. Production crews have also been seen in Parkstone Cemetery in Poole, with speculation on social media that this may also be a filming location. The latest production follows the first series, which was broadcast in 2022, to widespread acclaim and, of course, won From The North's award for the best TV show of the year. The series was, after a lengthy wait, renewed for a second series last November. A Bournemouth, Christchurch and Poole Council spokesperson confirmed a production company filmed at the cemetery for one day and local residents had been notified. Durdle Door beach, on the Lulworth Estate, was closed for several days while filming took place. Sturridge could be seen walking along the beach to meet another character, who was dressed in white robes carrying what looked like a lyre. Location crews have also been seen at Sandbanks on the edge of Poole Harbour. With a first issue in 1988, a live action TV adaptation of the acclaimed comic was more than thirty years in the making. Despite previous interest from Hollywood (much of it truly moronic), Neil Gaiman said that trying to condense a three thousand-page story into two hours of film was an 'uncrackable' problem. The seventy five-issue (and one special) run of the original comic featured both standalone stories and longer, more overlapping, narratives. It finally premiered on Netflix in August 2022 and featured many well-known names in the cast including Charles Dance, Stephen Fry, Jenna Coleman, Joely Richardson, Sanjeev Bhaskar, Sir Derek Jacobi, David and Georgia Tennant and Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer. The second series had been expected to focus on the next two volumes of the comic - Season Of Mists and A Game Of You with some standalone stories taken from the collections Dream Country and Fables & Reflections. It is believed that the second batch of episodes will be streamed in either spring or summer 2024. The story of the resumption of filming on The Sandman was also covered by the Winter Is Coming website and the Comic Book.com website. The latter also reports that the Norse Gods Thor, Odin and Loki - key characters in the Season Of Mists arc - are in the process of being cast. Even more excitingly, they also quoted the What's On Netflix website as suggesting also in the current round of casting are the characters of Morpheus' 'lost' brother, Destruction and King Auberon and Queen Titania. The latter duo appear in one of this blogger's favourite issues of the comic, A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of the two stories from the Dream Country collection yet to be tackled (and one which this blogger thought they may have to miss given the likely plethora of SFX needed to create an audience of faeries at the premiere of Shakespeare's play).
The second series of another highly-regarded Neil Gaiman adaptation, Good Omens, is coming at the end of July and, based on a new clip which Amazon has released, it appears that Crowley (national heartthrob David Tennant) is musing about what the point of everything is? We've all done it, to be fair. Frequently. The full trailer for the series can be seen, here. It appears to focus on the events which occur after an amnesiac, toddler-like Gabriel (Jon Hamm) shows up at the book store owned by the angel Aziraphal (Michael Sheen). The end of new clip also seems to hint at this, as Crowley's replacement as Evil's representative in London, Shax (Miranda Richardson), says that there is 'something going on ... up there.'
The BBC has released a first image of From The North favourites Jodie Whittaker and Bella Ramsey in their new drama, Time. In the photo from the second part of the anthology series, Whittaker and Ramsey as Orla and Kelsey are standing in the prison yard along with their fellow inmate Abi (played by Tamara Lawrance). 'The bleak colour palette reflects their dire situation in the women's prison' (it says here), a shift from the drama's first series which followed Stephen Graham and Sean Bean's characters on opposing sides of The Law.
This blogger was starting to get just a little bit frustrated with The Crowded Room; the first four episodes were great, but this blogger really didn't enjoy last week's episode (Savior [sic]) at all; added to which we've now had three episodes in a row that were all, essentially, flashbacks. But then, having watched episode six (Rya) before going back and re-watching the opening episode (to which episode six was a kind of direct prequel), Keith Telly Topping has come to the conclusion that this was a really cleverly put-together Lego construction of a plot. Only one question remains, though. It's 1979 and Rya's son is watching an episode of Happy Days when she tells him to go to bed, it's ten o'clock. When then Hell was Happy Days ever shown at 10pm, anywhere?
On a somewhat-related theme, this blogger wasn't at all impressed with Strange New Worlds' second episode of the new series, Ad Astra Per Aspera (too much talking, not enough blowing things up and a court-room setting absolutely crying out for a 'you can't handle the truth' moment). But, the following week's episode, Tomorrow & Tomorrow & Tomorrow, that was funny (despite focusing largely on La'an, the least-interesting character in the Star Trek franchise since Voyager ended).
From that, dear blog reader, to Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Eighty Seven: Becoming, Part 2.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Eighty Eight: School Hard.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Eighty Nine: Entropy.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety: The Harsh Light Of Day.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety One: The Body.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Two: No Place Like Home.
Magnificently Daft Lines From Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). Number Ninety Three: Choices.
This blogger spent some of the last week catching up with various Glastonbury highlights on the BBC iPlayer (some sets that this blogger had missed, some he'd already seen but enjoyed and wanted to watch again). A couple of things struck Keith Telly Topping, hard, right between the eyes and left him vexed and discombobulated. Plus, shocked and stunned, obviously.
Firstly, Generation Sex. A pretty decent set, this blogger thought (Billy's voice being a bit shot-to-Hell notwithstanding). But ... 'King Rocker'. Now, Keith Telly Topping always assumed that this was a song about a hypothetical boxing match between Elvis and John Lennon for the title of, well, King Rocker (or King Kong, the chorus doesn't make clear which). And, by assumed, this blogger means knew ('Jailhouse Rocker roots straight outta Memphis/Liverpool Johnny rocks out round Paul's place' ... 'Elvis from the body shakes from the hipbone'/Quarry Street kids in leather take Hamburg' et cetera). Top song. This blogger bought the single - on lurid pink vinyl - back in 1979. He can't find it just at the moment but it's in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House somewhere. However, when Generation Sex performed it at Glasto, on the screen behind them, there was some required black and white Elvis footage at various points but, each time they reached a line about 'Johnny', we got shots of Jonesy and Cookie's old bandmate, that now extremely former President Rump-supporting oaf Mister Rotten esquire. Eh? What's that all about? Was the sinister hand of Apple stopping them from using the right footage? Was Yoko Ono involved? 'Go Johnny go/use your electric' (but not the Rickenbacker you bought in Hamburg cos that's copyright, son!) This blogger loves a good conspiracy theory. Especially one he's just created. (Yes, incidentally, this blogger is aware that's Paul Cook behind Bill - in more senses than one - but a second earlier it was John Lydon and Keith Telly Topping didn't get the picture taken on his phone quickly enough. So, sue me.)
Secondly, in the latter parts of Sir Elt's storming Sunday night set (see previous bloggerisationisms), the legend that is Davey Johnstone was using a doubleneck guitar of some description (this blogger was struggling to identify the manufacturer; it looked vaguely Fender-ish though this blogger suspects it was probably a custom job). Now, Keith Telly Topping is well-aware that doubleneck guitars have been around in some form since the 1920s (and not, as this blogger once genuinely believed, invented in 1971 purely so that Jimmy Page could play all of the parts of 'Stairway To Heaven' live without changing guitars mid-song). But every doubleneck guitar that Keith Telly Topping has ever seen featured a twelve-string on the top and a six string on the bottom (this blogger is led to believe that other variants do exist). Presumably, so that everyone (and not just Jimmy Page) can play all the parts of 'Stairway To Heaven' live without changing guitars mid-song. What Davey was playing appeared to be two six strings, the top one being a right-hander and the bottom one an upside-down left-hander. Which, if you look up the words 'completely bloody pointless' on Google, you'll find that as a dictionary definition. Who is this blogger, a limited guitarist at best (able to play four chords ... three of which are 'C'), to tell the great Davey Johnstone how to strum his banjo, you may well ask? And, you'd be dead right to do so, dear blog reader. But, it appeared as though he was playing the song on the top one and using the bottom purely for occasional moments of slide. Well, mate, you can do that on one guitar - ask Ry Cooder, Clapton, Harrison, Duane Allman, Johnny Winter et al. In short, once again, what's all that about?
Idly wondering about these things on Facebook, this blogger found a lengthy thread developing in which this blogger's Apple conspiracy theory was effectively poo-pah'd by people who know about these things (hi Jan! hi Jay!), Keith Telly Topping learned more than he ever didn't realise he needed to know about doubleneck guitars (hi Dave!) and, brilliantly, at least one highly respected rock journalist of this blogger's acquaintance completely misread what the lyrics of 'King Rocker' were all about (hi Ian!) This blogger loves a good Facebook session for the craic, dear blog reader. It's just about the only contact with other people Keith Telly Topping gets these days.
This blogger was flicking around some channels one day this week and, momentarily, stopped on BBC News 24 where someone was talking about Nottingham being 'typical of many places in The North' (this blogger didn't stick around long enough to get the full context though he believes they may have been talking about 'once-Labour-currently-Tory-soon-to-be-Labour-again' MP-type situation). This, clearly, being the London-centric definition of 'The North' as 'anywhere North of Watford and South of Iceland'. If in doubt, people, check out this video for some visual clues as to what's where.
This blogger was back at the pool at the arse-end of last week. He struggled, again, to do pretty much anything other than lie there looking at the ceiling and feeling dog-tired and hopeless; even the sauna didn't do much for him in terms of making him feel any less wretched. But, then he had a very welcome shower whilst the in-house radio was playing Sir Elt's 'Tiny Dancer'. Which, of course, is now utterly impossible to hear without recalling that scene in From The North favourite Almost Famous.
That was immediately followed on the radio by 'Maggie May'. Which is impossible to hear without recalling The Faces having a kickabout on the Christmas 1971 episode of Top Of The Pops, whilst John Peel mimed the mandolin part played on the record by Wor Geet Canny Ray Jackson.
Both shall now, forevermore hereafter, be 'music you can shampoo to' in this blogger's mind (and, indeed, on this blogger's scalp).
Which, of course, brings us with the frank inevitability of the frankly inevitable to that part of From The North dedicated to this blogger's on-going medical malarkey. Or, strictly speaking, malarkeys as there are several of them. For those dear blog readers who haven't been following this on-going fiasco which appears to have been on-going longer than The Palaeolithic Age, it goes like this: Keith Telly Topping spent some weeks around Christmas 2021 into New Year 2022 feeling rotten; experienced five days in hospital; was discharged; received B12 injections; then more injections; somewhat recovered his missing appetite; got an initial diagnosis; had a consultant's meeting; continued to suffer fatigue and insomnia; endured a second endoscopy; had another consultation; got (unrelated) toothache; had an extraction; which took ages to heal; had another consultation; spent a week where nothing remotely health-related occurred; was given further B-12 injections; had an echocardiogram; received more blood extractions; made another hospital visit; saw the unwelcome insomnia and torpor continue; received yet more blood tests; had a rearranged appointment for his sick note; suffered his worst period yet with the fatigue. Until the following week. And, then the week after that. Oh, the fatigue, dear blog reader. The depressing, ceaseless fatigue. He had a go on the Blood-Letting Machine; got another sickie; had an assessment; was given his fourth COVID jab; got some surprising news about his assessment; had the results of his annual diabetes check-up; had another really bad week with the fatigue; followed by one with the sciatica; then one with the chronic insomnia; and, one with a plethora of general cold-related grottiness. Which continued over the Christmas period and into New Year. There was that 'slipping in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bath and putting his knee through the side' thing; the night-time leg cramps; getting some new spectacles and this blogger's return to the East End pool after over a year of constant inactivity. Only to discover that he remains as weak of a kitten in the water. Or, indeed, out of it. Feeling genuinely wretched. Experiencing a particularly nasty bout of gastroenteritis. And, getting a visit from a very pleasant and actually quite helpful occupational therapist.
On Saturday evening, as usual, this blogger was utterly exhausted by around 9:30 (that's pretty much every day, to be honest dear blog reader). So he was off to his pit forthwith. Six or seven hours of fitful - needing-a-pee-every-ninety-minutes-interrupted - sleep followed before, around 4am, as soon as the first rays of the rising sun started pouring through the blinds of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bedroom, Keith Telly Topping wearily awakened and then spent about an hour tossing; cursing this bloody insomnia and wondering whether to just lie there some more and fret about the several seriously disturbing dreams this blogger had just experienced (including at least one that would make a really half-way decent episode for one of the CSI franchise) or whether to get up and, gasp, do something. He chose - possibly, unwisely - the latter. Although, inevitably, doing something at that time of the morning involved watching Talking Pictures TV with the sound really low so as not to disturb them next door and searching the Interweb for something vaguely distracting to be vaguely distracted by. By 8:30am, as usual, this blogger was pure dead knackered again and so (again, as usual) he went back to his bed and then had two-and-a-half hours of properly blissfully sound (and not-needing-a-pee-every-ninety-minutes-uninterrupted) sleep. Before being quite literally shaken from a really nice dream about Keith Telly Topping making a lemon meringue (true story) by someone shouting some obscenity very loudly in the street outside The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. Getting up, still in a half-asleep daze, this blogger boiled the kettle and made himself a nice steaming hot cup of sweet Joe and put on The Chemical Brothers at a volume that, quite literally, shook the walls of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. That woke this blogger up right good and proper. How long he would remain in such a only vaguely conscious state, however, was another matter entirely. Although he then set about cooking pie and chips and gravy for us Sunday lunch so he was unlikely to fall asleep in the middle of eating that, admittedly.
This blogger is, he must admit, kind of sanguine about the whole deal by now after eighteen months of this new reality. Keith Telly Topping knows how the vast majority of his days are going to be; wake early, do some stuff, breakfast, do a bit more stuff, get really tried mid-morning, have a nap, get up, have dinner, do more stuff, get tired again, have a doze of the couch, get up, do more stuff, watch telly, get tried around 9pm, go to bed, start reading something, fall asleep, get six or seven hours in between bouts of having to get up for a pee every ninety minutes, begin process again. There are people in the world who've got far greater challenges in their day-to-day than me.
The 1970s, dear blog reader. As previously discussed on this blog, all nostalgia about some good music and TV show aside, the decade was a bit crap really, if you had the misfortune to actually live through it. One thing worth remembering about the 1970s though, was that cars-shaped-like-fruit were going to be The Future. For about five minutes in 1974. Of course, it's also worth considering that if all cars were oranges, they wouldn't be called traffic jams, they'd be traffic marmalades, surely?
And now, a quick advertising break. Here's a word from our sponsor.
Next, you four will never get anywhere with a name like The Be-Quiffs. Lads, trust this blogger on that score. No one is going to have heard of you.
The last time this blogger went on a date, dear blog reader, it went really badly. We went for a drink and, to make polite conversation, Keith Telly Topping asked the delightful young lady he was dating what sort of music she liked. She said her favourite band was The Charlatans. This blogger said 'what is your favourite song of theirs?' She replied 'the only one I know.' 'And, what's that one called?' this blogger asked. She got ever so stroppy. Called Keith Telly Topping a weirdo. Anyway ...
Next, the winner of this week's From The North Headline Of The Week award goes nowhere else but here.
Though, the Nottingham Post (still not in 'The North', London), gets an honourable mention for Woman In Disbelief After Seeing Squirrel Vaping In Tree.
In today's 'things you never even knew that you needed to know' semi-regular feature, there's this.
And finally, dear blog reader. If you say so, Dave. We believe you, thousands wouldn't ...
