Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Blake Ritson and Ed Stoppard would have the most dashing children, if only they could work out how. I know it's scarcely watchable fluff, but there must be Hallam-Kent slash fiction out there, right?

Argh!

EXTRA'S

It's on the wall in the cafe in Being Human and it's really annoying, not least because there's a really, really obsessive (and a few steps down from Stoppard the Younger, but still upper passable) vampire in front of it, and they're making a great thing out of his obsessiveness and undue attention to details and there's this sodding chalk on a blackboard screaming out with all the subtlety of fingernails on the same.

We're more Ceefax people. Oh, do they know their target audience.

And yes, I did have an Expiring Soon day.

But that's because I'd had a tiring day the day before. It included something a little like this:

It's odd preparing to sing by taunting childishly and attempting Dalek. It's twang apparently, and I didn't know one could do that (or could theoretically; I tended occasionally lose either the tune, the words or the vocal effects because I was concentrating so hard on one of the others).

We also did the traditional, er, traditional stuff (all about springing fresh and gay) and the fervent joy of gospel, with its whim driven conducting. Praise him! Or flatter him. Or something. Anything to get him into bed.

Yep, I don't think we're the most suitable group to transform into gospel singers; we were discussing strategies for hedging bets during the break. My take—that if god exists he is either a petty, vengeful, spiteful god, the one of the Old Testament, in which case I'm doomed whatever I do, or he is compassionate and loving, in which case he'll understand, so there's no point worrying about it either way—caused much amusement.

What else? Oh, iPad art. It looks all wrong because the circles are. But it's strange realising that it's obviously the same person, the same hand, the same eyes, the same mind creating the work, just through an unfamiliar medium. It's also fun watching how his technique improves over the season. The ballet videos are rather fun too, and not just because I could happily watch them on a loop (see SM of the RB).

The only thing missing from the show, which is all the rights of spring, the brights of spring, the flights of spring, the delights of spring, the gross exuberance of nature, is the smells. The sweet, the foetid, the sweetly foetid, the tang, the cloy, the bite, the dank, the beguile.

Oh, hang on, I forgot to mention who the iPaddist is. Hockney, at the RA, but you'd probably guessed, hadn't you?

Anyhoo,

PS. This pleases me. I need to do more of it. Though they missed out sitting on the back with your feet on the arm because it's in the sun.