Family hear me (haw, listen)! It is true what many of you have heard (the thing NOT concerning my manhood thankyouverymuch). The Davidsons have gathered an army (okay one girl…) and as I speak that army is drawing nearer to our home (I’m getting her on the train). Believe me when I say we have a difficult time ahead of us (you cannot contemplate the magnitude of such true story) but if we are to be prepared for it we must first shed our fear of it. I stand here before you now truly unafraid (lies)! Why?! Because I believe something you do not (evil dolphins)? No! I stand here without fear because I remember (for once…kinda).  I remember that I am here not because of the path that lay before me.. but because of the path that lies behind me (unless I doubled back on myself, then God knows how I got here)! I remember that for a month or so we have fought these Davidsons (FYI, not winning)! I remember that for a month or so they have sent their armies to destroy us and after a month or so of war I remember that which matters most (flying tanks, fuck your flying sharks)! We are still here (I’m not I moved out, suckers)!  Tonight let us send a message to that army (need to use your phone though, I’ve no credit)! Let us shake this house (grrr)! Tonight let us tremble these walls of concrete, plaster and asbestos (cough)! Let us be heard from the Spar to that weird girlie gym place up the road! Tonight let us make them remember this is the McCann household and we are not afraid (…shitting bricks)!

To be honest I don’t have too much to say about this (bet your left tit I still fill a page or 2 though), I suppose it’s because it was really her experience this time around and not mine.  It was Natalie’s turn to visit my parents for the weekend and much like last week it went very well.

First thing worth mentioning is the train journey.  I have a train straight to Ayr, however Natalie got on this train half way there.  Now why is it relevant I don’t hear you asking?  Well this is because it means she only had to suffer drunken irish hobo-chan for half of the journey.  He wore his entire wardrobe (didn’t wash it), carried a battered acoustic and talked to the inside of his thigh for most of the journey.  I learned 3 things about him.  He is ‘not even from Scotland’, his name is james (or something) and he can ramble incoherently for an hour.

Alcoholism spurs more alcoholism as me and my bro tossed back a few after dinner with the rents and my lady (who were behaving themselves).  Dad was pretty gutted he couldn’t stay up and have a drink, but he had work the next morning.  Worked out for the best however as I turned to face Natalie and realized that the only thing keeping her awake was sheer willpower.  So off to the single bed it was.  Sharing a single bed gets WARM.  Now anemics seem to believe that they do not give off body heat (I dunno, maybe some Scientologist told them) however that was not the case.  I woke up with a tan.  True story.

I got a decent amount of sleep and day 2 was mainly banter based as we relaxed, had a chat with the mother and played some games she got free on her lappy (FATE should die a horrible gnarly death).

Day 3 revolved mainly around dogs and violence (as separate properties of entertainment) as we were having viewers to the house and me and Natalie were given the task of getting rid of the dogs for half an hour.  So off we went with the little four legged gargoyles of sin as they barked, scratched and entangled themselves up the farm road.  Showers were needed (non related to the dog walking) and games were played and it was in the car and off for a chippy.  The complete lack of insults directed at my 4 wheeled biscuit tin was surprising, however I had yet to TOTAL my biscuit tin so that may shushed her a little (I’m dead for that statement, I know this).  We didn’t watch a sweet little film with our dinner, nor did we watch a soup or some shit reality tv show.  We watched the ROH PPV baby!!!  I got to show her some sick wrestling, not the shit WWE stuff.  Faces got mangled, bodies twisted and turned in ways not humanly possible and Natalie what the fuck’d herself silly.

My Dad was kind enough to give us both a lift home after his 12 hour shift.  I felt guilty, however I’m glad he did if not just for the hilarity at my dear father trying to use his sat nav.  It went something like this:

Dad: Finally, right Simon what’s your postcode?

Simon: G4 9**

Dad: What’s your postcode?

Simon: G4…

Dad: Right G4…

Sat Nav: G

…

Simon: 4?

Dad: 4?

Simon: 4

Sat Nav: 4

Dad: G4…?

Simon: G49A

Dad: …G4…?

Simon: 9.

Dad: 9?

Simon: 9!

Dad: 9.

Sat Nav: 8

20 minutes later we left the driveway.  Welcome to the family dear.  We are the McCanns.  We take ages.

Good morning, Mr. McCann. Your mission, should you choose to accept it (you have chosen to accept it), involves meeting the parents of the recently acquired girlfriend from the previous mission (Operation: Steal the Girl) and convincing them that your not a complete bastard (yeah, you’re fucked). You may use any of the techniques you have learned in training but understand you are going into this naked (do NOT go naked), all weapons are on site. These people are civilians, however they have raised two of the most ferocious children known to man and are not to be taken lightly, CQC may be required (you’re going to die) but only if necessary. You have forty-eight hours. Understand that this is a defensive mission, there will be no need for heroics (under no circumstance are you to ‘do a barrel roll’). As always, should you be caught or killed, we will disavow all knowledge of your actions. And Mr. McCann, nobody wants to see your dance, nobody. This html file will self-destruct in five seconds (unless you’re using firefox, then you should be ok).

I received this file the other day from an unknown source (lies) and now that the mission has been completed I feel it is safe to share its contents and let you in on the debriefing (all lies). The train journey wasn’t as long as I thought it would be, I guess I’m just used to it because of the Ayr-Paisley train. Her father has the same car as mine own (although his is red, hides the blood you see) and upon picking me up he seemed pretty chirpy, which was relaxing in itself. Once I got to the house I wasn’t subjected to the clever (read as: blunt) probing I expected, in fact they didn’t take much of my time up at all. Once dinner was ordered and served it was up the stairs to watch Big Trouble in Little China (yeah, my girlfriend is better than yours) as I scoffed my Chinese down my face hole. I got the tour of the room, the banter, then the sister. The sister is crazy 2.0 (I mean that in the most complimentary fashion). I found myself craving caffeine just to keep up…so we had some apple sourz. Then before I knew it it was day 2 and I had yet to balls it up. 1-0 me.

The day of the meal. We had planned (she had planned) on going out for a meal, she wanted to treat me (guilt GO!) and she did, so the favor shall be returned (check out Part 2 next week). The taxi service in West Kilbride consists of an old couple with 2 taxis. This is presumably so that when one of them is chewing on the tires or driving around chasing the wind (or some other rather dim past time) the other can go and do their job (I imagine they take turns). It was a local restaurant, a nice one at that. It had clearly just been done up (I couldn’t find chewing gum ANYWHERE) and there was a large extension down stairs. We were seated up stairs however in a nice little candle lit table. A good meal too, coastal town with some fantastic seafood. Far superior scampi to my frozen Lidls stuff (not that I’m bashing the enchanted grocery shop of dreams) and a good few beers to wash it down.  As for the company I was keeping…remember your old TV?  The clunky bastard?  It was one of the best in its range but the world was moving on and so were you?. Remember the feeling you had when you first got your new HDTV? You plugged it in, turned on your 360, loaded up Oblivion and it made sex to your eyes? If every woman on earth is an old 14 inch Alba with a grey scart lead, mono sound and a broken standby button then Natalie is High Definition, dolby digital surround sound, wall mounted heart candy. 2-0 me.

Day 3 I arrive home, no grave injuries, no drama and still no ‘catch’ to this relationship. Her parents seem nice, her sister (although mental) is great and nobody hates me. 3-0 me.

I’ve been hanging around with 2008 these past couple of months.  The poor guy has spent the entire time apologizing for 2007, I tell him he doesn’t have to but he insists.  Lets be honest, who am I to argue with the passage of time?

Rhaegar is doing great.  He’s got the hang of hunting, he clearly enjoys the sand more than the bark (conducts heat, crickets can’t bury) and he still refuses to eat the veg I put out (although I think he takes the odd bite).  He watched Silent Hill with the gang, he watched Gears of War and he shed his own face.  Fucking metal.

Kim chants my name scratching my door, Tina puts snow in the freezer, Bry has been swallowed entirely by World of Warcraft.  So yeah, flat life has settled down.  Kim seems to feel at home now which is nice, she’ll come through to see me and the dragon (and by ‘me and the dragon’ I mean the dragon) after her work and the likes.  Kitchen parties are once again on the rise, each individual meal has a +67% chance of party.  I get nothing done these days. ..AND I BLAME THE LADIES (well Bry is through playing WoW…not his fault)!!!

Speaking of the ladies…I have been stolen!  There I was, watching some anime then BAM!  Relationship!  WTF!?  Who are you!?  How’d this happen!?  WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT!?  Turns out ‘this shit’ is actually pretty damn awesome.  It involves pain.  A bitch load of it, and I’m not talking ‘boo hoo she hurt my feelings now I’m gonna write a poem’ sort of pain.  Oh no.  I’m talking about “Damn it woman you left a SCAB!” pain.  But it’s all good, she was wandering around in the dark (I forget why) and took it upon herself to punt the end of my dumbbell.  Karma, true story.

I  made an Alucard stencil for her.  It wasn’t easy, it’s the biggest canvas I’ve worked on so far which is always an issue when you only have A4 stencils to work from.  It was a pain in the jibblets, as was the fact that I was using a somewhat blunt scalpel (I suffer pain for your sins, just like Jesus did).  But she seems really chuffed with it so it’s all good.  And I learned a tit-load of stuff while doing it so its all good.  Not to mention the supposed brownie points with the parents.  From what Natalie has told me they seem nice (and her sister is bat shit crazy), so it’s not too daunting.  As long as I behave.

I behave…right?

Know that the man who reads from this parchment speaks with the voice of the King, Psyman Targeryen McCann, Warden of the Great West, Defender of the Realm, heed his words as if they were my own.

Today, the 6th day of the 1st month of the 8th year of the second millennia, marks the birth of my heir, Prince Rhaegar Targeryen McCann. I ask not for your money, your gifts or your sacrifices. I ask for this one simple thing, not as your King, but as a man of the Great West. When you lie in bed tonight pray for this gift the Gods have seen fit to bestow upon us. Pray for Lady Kirsten Stevenson, the Hand of the King, who’s patience and organizing made this all possible. Pray for Lord John Henderson, master of coin, who’s wizardry of the gold is matched by none. Pray for Grand Maester Bryoz, who’s knowledge and alchemy will aid the upbringing of the Prince so that he can one day become King. Pray for Christina Murray, sworn shield to Prince Rhaegar, who’s sword will cut down his enemies. Pray for Kim Johnson, the Kings Justice, who will judge and punish those that defy him. Pray for the Great West, pray for your family, pray for another reign of peace under the banner of the bearded dragon.

It has taken me 3-4 years to build up the courage to watch the Dawn of the Dead remake, and with the dead count of Dead Rising, the zombies of 28 Days Later and the suspense of Miss Congeniality surely it wasn’t going to disappoint?

One thing you must understand is that the original Dawn of the Dead film was created by the father of zombie lore, George A. Romero. He wrote the rules. If he ever goes against these rules he is not breaking them, he is changing them. That’s how it goes. Zack Snyder (the man we have to blame/thank for this film) has perhaps, in his naivety, misunderstood this and seems to be under the impression that it was Georges films that wrote the rules, and can in turn, re-write them. Personally I am not adverse to mixing things up a little, it keeps things fresh. However…

When faced with an army of the undead on the other side of an ever battered door, lets not swap our crowbar for a polo stick hmm?

Zombies keep ‘only the most basic of abilities’. Urinating on command is a basic ability, hopping over a guard rail is not.

The time it takes a character to ‘turn’ after being bitten should not be directly proportional to their on-screen time.

You’re the main character. You’re surrounded by zombies. It’s 2004. Everywhere you look people are being bitten and turned to the undead. It should not be 49 minutes into the fucking film before you “think it’s the bites”.

As fucking GLORIOUS as it was, the undead cannot swing on overhead pipes like monkey bars.

They can however use cat flaps and whiteboards…apparently.

Nu Metal and American pop rock has no place in horror. Ever. Not a little bit. Not even in Resident Evil, and that film was pap.

Every zombie film has that one moment that everyone talks about. He had the zombie baby in his arms, he had a gun, I could have forgiven everything and loved you. But no, like the 10 minute preview that lasts that extra 30 seconds to get your hopes up and cuts off just as the going gets good…NOTHING. A zombie baby, and it didn’t get shot to fuck. It brings a tear to your eye.