So a mate and I have been exchanging e-mails all morning about the slew of cr*ppy TV programmes that crop up around all major cinema releases.

With the news that Discovery in the States will be showing a programme called 'The Science of Superman' in the next week or so, it's only a matter of time before Sky One or Channel Four wheel out the C-List celebrities to make important social commentary on the Superman Phenomenon:

Jade Goodie “Oh yes I remember superman – he had that cape and I ate cake while I watched him!”

Johnny Vegas: Yeah, Shpriderman wash my favourite shooper hero. I liked hish boots. And he had eight armsh. Whut? Oh. Shorry. Yesh, Shooperman wash my favourite shooper hero. I liked hish bootsh. And he had 8 armsh… hic…

Posh spice – “Yeah superman was cool because he was early girl power too! And I used to watch him when I never ate anything other than rice cakes and water”

Jonathan Ross: I particularly liked Superman because I could pronounce his name properly, despite the pwesence of an ‘R’.. The Kwyptonite was a nice plot device and Bwaniac was my favouwite baddie. Oh… sh*t.

Tony Blair : “Superman was great (smarm) because he embodied everything we wanted to do with New Labour you know like spinning the truth so that people didn’t know whether they were coming or going and blowing the fiscal budget on stupid expenses.”

Mr T: Superman? He's a Foo. I ain't got no time for your crazy super jibber-jabber, sucker!

The Shat: Superman, yes I... remember. Fought him once. Beat him with my patented... back-thumping technique, then... seduced Lois Lane. I'm Denny Crane.

Vicki Pollard: Yerbut, nobbut, yerbut, I wuz Superman's girlfriend but I dumped 'im cus 'e got off with Courtney Thribble behind the Spar on Stapleton Road what sells cider to kids. Shut up, I got four bottles of strongbow and a packet of fags from the boy behind the counter cus I said would have s*x wiv 'im but I wuz only joken' cus I never had s*x wiv 'im but he went and told Sharon Bishop, who's a b*tch, that I 'ad s*x wiv 'im and she went an' told Tracey Jones who's a slag cus she peed on the back seat in the number 42 an' then said it wuz me, but I never did cus I wasn't even there that day...

Stephen Hawking's New Book

So Stephen Hawking is getting together with his daughter to write a children's book that will be 'a bit like Harry Potter but without the magic', in which they want to explain theoretical science to kids. Sounds like it's gonna be a laugh a minute!

Here's a genuine excerpt which I just made up. To set the scene, Harry has just used his cloak of no special properties to sneak out of his dormintory and has snuck into the headmaster's office to look at his decidedly unmagical books. Obviously, he's just been caught at it!

Harry gazed into the book hoping to see the mysteries of the world explained to him. Suddenly a voice from the shadows made him start.

"What do you think you are doing?" it said in a terrifying robot voice.

Harry backed away as the figure from the shadows emerged and approached him. As it came into the light, he was surprised to note that rather than being a Cyberman, Borg or Dalek, it was in fact a rather small and unthreatening man in an oversized electric wheelchair! It was the headmaster, Professor Stevenus Hawkingbore.

"I... I'm sorry," stammered Harry. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come and read up on some theoretical particle physics."

"That is all right, Harry." said Hawkingbore in his bizzare robot voice. "I admire any ten year old that seeks out knowledge."

"Actually," mused Harry, "I was hoping it would bore me to sleep. Or perhaps knock me out... if I drop it on my head from high enough."

"How dare you," Hawkingbore's monotone betrayed no emotion, "You little sh*t. How dare you trivialise my life's work. I am going to f*ck you right up, now!" The wheelchair suddenly lunged forward at a terrifying slow walking pace.

It took Harry a moment or two to realise that Hawkingbore was a furious and was intent on crushing Harry's small body under the wheels of his death dealing chariot of... er... death! Thinking quickly, he took a step sideways onto the first step of the nearby staircase. A minute later and the wheelchair would have tapped his legs lightly, potentially causing a small amout of bruising!

Hawkingbore swung the wheelchair around to face Harry. It took some time. "Curse you," the awful robot voice intoned. "You have uncovered my only weakness."

It was then that Harry realised that he had defeated Hawkingbore. The weelchair couldn't go up stairs!

"Hah!" he shouted at the seething, wheeled headmaster. "Haven't you ever watched Doctor Who?"

"No, I have not," said Hawkingbore. "I deal only in dry, boring scientific theory. For example, did you know that The kinetic theory of matter says that all matter consists of many, very small particles which are constantly moving or in a continual state of motion. The degree to which the particles move is determined not only by the amount of energy they have but also their relationship to other particles. The particles might be atoms, molecules or ions. Use of the general term 'particle' means the precise nature of the particles does not have to be specified."

Too late, Harry realised that Hawkingbore was not powerless at all. As Harry's eyes grew heavy, Hawkingbore's terrible monotonous mechanical voice seared the fundementals of particle theory into his brain until finally, Harry slumped to the floor unconcious.

"Excellent," said Hawkingbore. "If I was able to laugh manaically or cackle, I would. As it is, I cannot even rub my hands together in glee, but if I could I would. In spades." His wheelchair rolled backwards. "Now, young Harry," he intoned, "I shall use my phenomenal cosmic knowledge to instill boredom into the children of the world so that they shall all grow up in my image! Mua ha ha ha ha. No, that laugh just sounds silly in my robot voice... Now, where's Davros..?"

An Update

It seems the peacock is something of a local celebrity - GWR FM has apparently been reporting sightings of it all weekend. I will advise of any updates...

In addtion, I would like to report that last week's bomb turned out to be a lump of concrete. Ho hum...

Bombs and Peacocks

Hitler tried to kill me yesterday by cunningly hiding an old WW2 bomb on the building site next to my building. We were evacuated at 3pm. Sadly the car park in which my car was parked was within the cordoned off zone, so I was kinda stuck in town for a bit.

The Beeb have a bit of info on it here.

I was in danger of being relocated to London this morning as part of our contingency plan. Thankfully the building is open again this morning, although the bomb is still in-situ and we are likely to be evacuated again at lunchtime today while the army remove it.

Yay. And it’s a glorious day today as well. Highs of 28 apparently. Just right for an afternoon off.
On a slightly different note, I looked out of my dining room window this morning to see something pretty damn bizzare. I was on the phone to my boss - fining out whether the office was open and ... well... the conversation went something like this:…

JDK: Morning, Boss.
Boss: Morning, JDK. May I say what a pleasure it is to be in your kingly presence, albeit in a telephonic fashion.
JDK: (Testily) Yes, yes. I know. Stop simpering, you sycophant, and tell me if the office is open today.
Boss: Why yes, your Majesty. I'm on my way there now.
JDK: (Casually looks out of dining room window) Er...
Boss: Quite the pilaver yesterday, wasn't it?
JDK: Um...
Boss: Apparently we may be evacuated again at lunchtime.
JDK: I... Uh...
Boss: But I'd be eternally grateful if you could see your way to popping into the office and doing some of your impressive stuff.
JDK: Well... Um...
Boss: Are you alright, your Highness?
JDK: There's... um.. something odd in my back garden.

Well, I wasn't quite sure anyone was gonna believe me, so I just took some photos with my handy phone.



Ready?

I wasn't really sure what you do when you find a giant peacock pecking on your back door. I fairly sure it was deliberately baiting Rochester, who was nose to nose with it through the glass with his hackles up.

Given that I have a tiny, tiny back garden which is entirely enclosed by fences, I was somewhat concerned that the peacock didn't have enough space to take off as they need a bit of a run up, just like pigeons.

What do you do when you have a peacock trapped in your back garden? Put up a notice on the lamp posts outside saying: 'Found: Once large peacock. Beautiful Plumage. If you are missing this bird please call the JDK'?

Dial 999, maybe?
Operator: What service do you require?
JDK: Er... emergency peacock rescue?

I finally settled on the RSPCA as an option, but before I could do so, it hopped up onto the fence with the greatest of ease. On that basis, I figured, it could probably get out whenever it felt like it.

Well. Not sure if it's an omen. But most importantly, it looks like we'll be going home at lunchtime. Shame, that.