Your humble scribe will be spending his New Year’s Eve stone-cold sober on a train somewhere between Reading and Weymouth. With a bit of luck and a following wind, I may even make it home before midnight. Woo.
While we’re all wishing each other a “Peaceful” New Year, may I draw your attention to a couple of statistics. Number one: the number of people killed by war in the twentieth century: one hundred and eighty million, the vast majority being non-combatants . Number two: the number of weapons of mass destruction possessed by the United States Strategic Air Command: far too bloody many.
A Happy and Peaceful New Year to you all, even if the odds are somewhat stacked against you.
After that little slice of misery, here’s something that came to me via the author Neil Gaiman’s weblog. Dead Ringers is a BBC comedy show that hasn’t quite survived the transition from radio to television. One of the highlights of the most excellent radio version is a series of spoof phonecalls by someone pretending to be Tom Baker of Doctor Who fame.
So, what happens when “Tom Baker” calls Tom Baker? A cataclysmic matter/anti-matter collision that brings about the end of the universe, that’s what. Or just a shedload of laughs in which the real Baker's the one having the most fun.
Catch you on the other side. Bring pie.
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