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An hour of virtuous liberty
Mar 10, 2005

An hour or virtuous liberty is worth an eternity of bondage

One of the advantages of living in the country is an intimate view of the diminishing wildlife around us. My first encounter with a stoat was whilst painting the gable end of my house. I did that most dangerous of painter’s tricks, I leaned out to try and paint the bit on the corner without moving the ladder. As I peered around there were a pair of dark brown stoats wrestling on the lawn. These were males determined to prove a point and become top creature on my lawn. I coughed inadvertently and they stopped, looked up at the heavens and took flight. Later I saw on of them, or maybe a relation, hunting baby rabbits in the field. From my vantage point I could see the whole endeavor. The stoat would stand on its haunches and look for ears for a moment and then go bounding off in that direction. The rabbits, meanwhile, took it in turns to stick their ears up and then frolic away. When energy was exhausted on both sides they all sat and preened, hardly two metres away from each other.
I found the stoat dead and maggoty a few days later in the far corner of my garden and buried it under a pear tree.

On one occasion a shrew ventured into my house in search of insects and slugs. After some histrionics I cornered the creature with my shadow bird hands and it promptly jumped at me and sunk its tiny teeth into the flap of skin twixt thumb and forefinger, then defied all efforts to remove it. The eventual solution was to take my new attachment outside and drag it through the wet grass until it realized there was a chance to run and survive.....so it did. I on the other hand went for the tetanus injection.

One bright summers day a squirrel took up residence in my kitchen. Not by design but with the compliments of the black cat as a contribution to my dinner table. It hid in the gap at the top of the fridge and I unceremoniously set about removing it with a broom handle. Now the thing about a squirrel is that it is designed to go up..... In the absence of trees it ran up me, up my wife and daughter, inflicting terror on the five year old and not a little discomfort to the rest of us. The final solution? Learn to live with it. Open the windows and the door and be prepared to live with it until it found a better home. Whilst doing this I had to keep watch on the cat for obvious reasons. Sure enough within a couple of hours of being left alone the squirrel left and the cat slept the sleep of the righteous.

The other cat presented me with pheasant on one occasion. There was a dispute as to who had caught whom. The cat was on the pheasants back clutching at its neck feathers. When the pheasant became strong sand rejuvenated it would stand up and carry the cat back towards the field, then as the pheasant weakened the cat dragged it back again to the house. Eventually the sheer weight of the cat and its better armaments had won the day. As the only acknowledged super power in the region I took the pheasant and released it back into the field and gave the cat a compensatory feed of sardines.

In the summer roe deer wandered freely through my garden. They strip the bark off my fruit trees and trample the hedges. Last year they brought a beautiful fawn with them. A creature the size of a little lamb. It frisked around its parents as they stripped and killed my fruit trees. When they had eaten their fill they quietly wandered off into the forest and were never seen again. I replaced the trees but to this day I have never replaced the memory of that beautiful little creature in its natural home.

I have another squirrel who eats my strawberries. He is very discerning. He will take a bite out of each until he discovers the exact flavour that he is looking for and then eat the winning strawberry in one hit, placing the stem on the ground beside him. He will then move to the next plant and repeat the process. Why do I plant the strawberries? Well, for the squirrel, obviously.

A few years ago a badger found a bumblebee nest in the edge of my back lawn. It was about ten o'clock at night. I almost let the dog out as he was getting very agitated but something stopped me. When I switched off the light and looked through the curtains I saw the rear end of a badger and the mound of earth that had been my lawn. We watched him for an hour. The children all went quietly outside and sat within a few metres of this industrious creature. Eventually he got his honey and left. In the morning I filled the hole and said a few words for the poor bumble bee. The dip in the lawn remains to this day, a reminder of good times past.

This morning I found that ants had invaded my kitchen. It has been cold and wet outside so they were looking for better living quarters. I killed them of course. So why did my tolerance not extend to the poor ants? They were following their instincts to find a drier nest. The problem is that I am of a species that writes rules. They are our rules. They are shaped to our exclusive advantage. We do not tell the ants or the badgers about these rules but we punish them for breaking them. We lay unilateral claim to areas of land. Build walls and create fences, lay minefields of ant powder and designate green lines that the wild creatures shall not be permitted to cross. We are the cat, now ascendant dragging the pheasant in from its field. We are the creatures that back the shrew into a corner and then scream with surprise when it bites us.

One day there will be no more squirrels eating our strawberries, no more badgers digging up our lawns and no more displaced ants struggling against overwhelming odds to regain their lost homes.

When that day comes we will declare great victories and pronounce the world a safer place.

When that day comes I do not want to be part of it. I would rather die in a world where the ant can bite my foot, where the fawn eats the bark of my trees than live in a world of oppression.


Doctor Carlyle Ferris

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Harmony and Snyder
Feb 27, 2005

Bite Me.........please! (May 18, 2004)

I set off into the world of terminal geekdom again on Saturday. Not quite a Startreck convention but close enough.

I went to the London Expo. A round trip of 567 miles in a day.

Who should I see but the delectable Harmony and the dreaded Principal Snyder.

There were a few famous names there. The Terminator....Robert Patrick. Larry Hagman.....J.R.Ewing...younger readers please see your history books. Lots of Lord of the rings types who I would not recognise and some assorted Treckies.

It was Harm and Snyder that I had come to see to further my personal collection of Buffy cast autographs.

Is it something in Buffy that makes its actors so much fun?

Mercedes Mcnab is a real beauty. She looked out of place in an exhibition Hall with a cement floor and plastic roof. She needs marble and velvet, silk and ebony to match her looks. She is much more of a beauty than Harmony would have us believe. Blue eyed, very blonde, softly spoken. She had to go back to the US on Monday so I made an inane comment about it being a sunny weekend for her visit here. As the poor girl would be indoors signing autographs for the likes of me all weekend I don't suppose it helped.
Armin Shimerman is a real gent. I watched him with the kids, making sure they got good photos with him for their albums. He was actually the most popular star there. Always a crowd waiting to talk to him. He has a small goatee at the moment which I believe was part of his appearence in ER.

There was quite an assortment of Golems and things. It must be a bit of an embarrassment to be a "star" at one of these do's and not have anyone come up to you for an autograph.

The overall event was a little disappointing. What were described as Movie memorabilia collectors stands were more like market stalls selling all the merchandised trash that surrounds SciFi programs. There were genuine replicas of the copies of the originals as used in the film but removed in the editing suite items but very little that a collector such as myself would want.

I did see the Willow figurine, why would anyone collect something as awful as that? What is noticeable is the number of redheads at Buffy related events. They are about 1% of the UK population but at least 10% of the Buffy fan base.

I was tempted by a life sized cardboard SMG for my hallway but it was actually larger than life unless SMG has suddenly grown to 5'9". I am not sure I could live eyeball to eyeball with Sarah Michelle. Interesting to see that authenticated autographs of SMG are about £115 and for the rest of the cast about £40.

So, an interesting day, made worthwhile by the delectable Miss Mercedes McNab. She can bite me anytime she likes.

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The Batmobile
Feb 23, 2005






Subject: My batmobile
Posted Dec 21, 2002 by Carlyle Ferris Post: 1


My dear old Citroen car has had to go to hospital because its life blood is dripping out on to the garage floor. Messages of condolence on this page but no flowers please as Citroens are allergic to everything except oranges.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Dec 21, 2002 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 2


It has been released by the hospital after an overnight stay. The prognosis is not good. Its body is in great shape but the heart has suffered the effects of unlead poisoning and may sink into a long decline and eventual death. I have chosen a burial plot for it just in case. There is a wonderful view over a motorway service station and lots of deceased cars to keep it company. The family live in hope that new research will provide a cure and a donor engine may eventually become available. It now carries its own doner card but it may be that only the unused ashtray is suitable for transplant. We would like to thank everyone for their condolences and will continue to post progress reports.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Dec 26, 2002 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 3


I took the poor thing to Bristol to see a specialist on Lodge Causeway. It cried piteously all the way along the Motorway. People kept looking at me in the service station as if I was a mass murderer with a million brutalised and dismembered cars to my hideous name. I wanted to tell them that I love My Citroen and would never knowingly harm it but Bristol was possibly its last chance of finding a cure before the God of Scrapyard Challenge came up with some vile game that involved mutilating Citroens. The consultant came up to me and Said, "It's yer cam-belt, in-it? It's yer new belt on an old pulley, in-it? Ere,try some WD40 on it, in-it." So he did and it was a lot quieter. It really is amazing how all those years of training can suddenly come together to solve the seemingly insoluble. I drove it home still crying a little, Me...not the car, you should have seen the bill....
I took it out of the garage this morning to wash it. There was a pool of oil on the garage floor and the belts screamed like succubi tortured by the Devil. I polished the BX16TGS Meteor badge and put it back again. The neighbour looked accusingly over the wall at me. I think he suspects me of torturing cats. Ford Driver....hah! he has no soul.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Dec 29, 2002 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 4


Some crazy individual with a Citroen Xsara tried to engage me in conversation about Citroens. Fool! What Knowest he of Citroens. His car has the badge in the middle of the bonnet! It is a Peugeot badly diguised as a real car. I bet it doesnt squeak, rattle or whine. The exhaust probably has never even touched the brake pipes let alone chafed them right through. I'll bet he has never heard the sound of the suspension pressure regulator as it tries to jack the car up far enough to get a flat tyre out from behind the wheel arch!
God did not intend man to enjoy his motoring, it should be an adventure, a constant struggle against the elements of French design. The adventure of man and his trusty steed pitted agaainst the armies of the clones. Into battle, wing mirrors slicing the Fiestas, Picassos, Clios and Civics into scrap.....
Must have a cold shower before they arrive with the chains and strait jacket.
veritatem dies aperit.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 4, 2003 by Baz
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Post: 5


hehe your cars post by post resumé make hilarious reading! However, the next time someone mocks you because your car has left a pool of oil on the floor, you musn't lie back and take it making excuses, you simply reply with a smug grin on your face "It's not broken, it is merely marking it's own territory...can your car do that? I think decisively not!...you may leave!" That usually get's them pretty much wound up!

Baz

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 4, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 6


Thank you for your kind words, I have done a printout and laid it on the bonnet for the batmobile to absorb overnight.
Today we went 129 miles. It cried a little at the start but then became quiet and somber, even the rattles died away til I felt I was coccooned in an ethereal vehicle cast down by the Gods. Then I realised I was on the Motorway again. We went to see a faith healer. you have to have faith in him because he knows sod all about cars. I know this because he drives a Rover, need I say more!. He prescribed WD40 as well and promptly sprayed an entire can at random under the bonnet without pause for discussion. When I started up to go into town the car screamed the scream of the banshee, no horror could ever compare to the agony that poor maligned voiture was going through. I persevered to the astonishment of everyone that I drove past.
When eventually I got back I took a stick and held it against each of the pulley bearings much like a witch doctor and to my amazement the noise was coming from the tension pulley bearing on the hydraulic pump. At last. I can now get a second hand pulley from the scrapyard on monday. Just as I was closing the bonnet I glanced at the back of the engine....there was oil squirting out of the dip-stick hole...... I quietly closed the bonnet, switched off and walked away.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 12, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 7


The batmobile goes to the doctors again tomorrow morning.
I felt I should go and warn it this afternoon so that it could pack a jack and a few spare tyres. I bought it some t-cut last week but felt that I would be rewarding poor performance if I gave it some this week. I opened the garage door and there was a pool of oil on the floor again . My deja was vu ed. I know it does'nt mean it but it's going to have to understand that there are human values to consider here. THE VALUE OF A LIFE IS NOT INFINITE AND IT IS SORELY TRYING MY WALLET. Anyway I started it up and it responded by squeaking at me. I am not amused by this. There may be repercussions. There are other Citroens out there crying out for good homes, some of them are even diesels.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 12, 2003 by Baz
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Post: 8


Wow! You must be having serious problems! (I deduced this by noting the fact that you are considering a Citroen diesel!) Citroen diesel.....can batmobiles run on diesel? Something that smelly and smoky in a machine designed to help rid the world of all evil? Imagine the repercussions if "The Joker" was employing yet another of his evil genius plans to rid the world of all things remotely related to normality (and yes, that would include oranges), with just seconds to get to the scene and save the world Carlyle Ferris leaps into his trusty diesel batmobile, starts the engine and....oh...hold on Gotham city, we need to wait for the glow plugs to get hot enough...."Why?"...errrm, I bought a diesel...sorry?! Now THAT never happened in the comic books!

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 14, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 9


Hi Baz,
Owning a Citroen is a calling. Only last week my beautiful red headed girlfriend [think Julia Roberts but double the size of everything] told me it was worse than driving in a soggy sponge and that I care more for the car than I do for her.
I looked at her, leaning against my car in leather mini skirt and studded belt,
"Joey comes with the bag!" I said.
There was a pause. She gave me the look that can only be delivered by redheads and chihuahuas, the look that says your ankle is mine!
"I am NOT a bag!" She spun on her heels and walked away.
I took a step after her vanishing figure, my hand groping tentatively towards her, "NO....No...." I said, "I was quoting Friends." But she was gone.
I turned back to my Citroen. I gazed tearfully at the empty space where she had leant against it. There was a scratch! Why can't she wear slacks. Dammit! I rushed into the garage for some T-cut.
When I returned the car had sunk down on its haunches. It was sneering at me. Its lop-sided chevrons curled upwards. The scratch on its bonnet like Ray Liottas scar.
Owning a Citroen is not for fun. It is for life.


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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 15, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 10


Well, it is back from the garage again. I can't quite pinpoint the look the mechanic gave me when I collected it. You may remember the teaser for "Prophecy Girl" It was kinda like the look Buffy gave the vamp just before she staked him.
But, it did'nt squeak on the way home. I became quite inspired and thought I would repair the screenwasher which was leaking slowly. The fitting on the pump broke off in my hand. Now I have seen grown men cry and it is not a pretty sight. It is worse from the inside looking out. I stepped back and with accusing finger I screamed " You are dead, You are a gonner!" I glanced up to see my neighbours eyes in Kilroy pose slowly sink below the top of the wall. He put the wall up last week. I think there is something wrong with him.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 16, 2003 by HonestIago - you can't spell fundamentalist without the word 'mentalist'. Keeper of Buffy's stakes and Willow's spells
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Post: 11


Just a message of sympathy. though not quite in the same league my precious pedal bike had a fight with a Fiesta and unfortunately lost. My elder brother was riding it at the time but got away uninjured so God must intend for me to punish him instead. My baby is awaiting repair but the signs aren't good. Irritating motorists by speeding past them in traffic-calmed areas will never be the same again

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 19, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 12


Hi there Honestlago.
I extend my deepest sympathy to you in your loss. I feel deeply for others who have lost a beloved machine to the rigors of this cruel world. Especially when lost through the act of a close relative. As for being hit by a Fiesta, What can I say. Being hit by a Rolls would be inspirational, being hit by a Skoda would be embarrassing {how would it catch up with you in the first place] being hit by a Citroen, now that would be an honour, but a Fiesta? It's like being savaged by a Labrador. How could you tell this story to your Grand-children? Poetic licence is called for here. The bicycle died when it threw itself across the track of a runaway bus full of nuns and tiny tiny babies {that's another story] to stop it crashing headlong through a primary school and into a nuclear power station thus saving the entire human race. [Or you could say it was flattened by a Citroen for equal honours] It must have been a good bicycle to have saved your brother injury!
Cotidie cum vita paria faciamus.

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 21, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 13


I felt it was time we spent some quality time together. On Saturday I bought a tangy little vintage oil from the south side of the well and a nice new filter.
So on Monday I rushed into the garage ....Surprise..Surprise....I've got you an oil change. I thought it would be pleased but it remained silent.
So after a suitable warm up I crawled underneath to remove the filter. It says hand tight! Why are they always tighter than one of Dawns wedgies. The sump plug would'nt come out either. Four hours later, pitch dark, pouring rain, its done, my neck hurts, my hands are cut, everything is covered in oil. But am I happy? Of course not, what kind of prat do you take me for? [Please do not answer that, the word is: rhetorical]
Anyway, I cleaned all the breather hoses,replaced the screen wash pump, and put a scratch strip on the door.
I also put a bulb in the clock. The clock now reads 18:88. Its like a scene from X.files. Where is the time between 18:59 and 18:88? In an episode from Outer Limits? If you glance quickly at it, it reads 6:66! then changes as soon as it Knows you are watching.
After warming the car up I looked under the bonnet. There was oil spraying out of the dipstick hole! I closed the bonnet and quietly walked away.




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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 22, 2003 by HonestIago - you can't spell fundamentalist without the word 'mentalist'. Keeper of Buffy's stakes and Willow's spells
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Post: 14


Just heard the news, my baby's gonna be okay. I've been told that it'll be weak for a while so I've got to go easy with it. This glorious redemption of a loved one has cost me a pretty penny (£75) but what price can you put on a faithful servant? She has been fitted with artificial replacements for her joints and skeleton but still looks and feels the same (this is sounding quite freaky now. Ah well) A chance for retribution has also appeared so the purpetrators of the heinous crime will be punished

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 25, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 15


Hi Nestla,
I hope you don't mind me calling you that but Hogo did'nt sound right.
I was so pleased to hear about the recovery of your beloved bicycle, it is a message of hope to all deteriorating bicycles out there who's tyres are flat and chains go un oiled, who's owners leave them lying against damp walls uncared for , unloved, no one to cherish them.
Forgive me for I am emotional at the moment , my poor Citroen has had further bad news but I am so overwrought that I am unable to write about it at the moment.


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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Jan 30, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 16


Having recovered my composure I can face writing about the latest episode with my faithfull Batmobile.
I took it on a pilgrimage to a Citroen healer of quite legendary standing in the Celtic world.
His first words to me......."Is it a diesel?" I could not believe my ears!.
"Of course not," I said.
"Well it looks loike yer 'ead gasgit 'as gone and yer pressure valve is knackered. Oi'd get rid of it if oi were you".
I tried to drive off in a huff but the engine would'nt start. The voice followed me, "If it wuz a diesel it wud be worth fixin, but that'n is a heap uv junk."
I finally got it started and rattled off down the road. I overtook a white van man at 80 miles an hour just to make a statement then headed for home.
By the time I got there the steam had almost completely dissipated. The car had stopped steaming too.


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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Feb 2, 2003 by Baz
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Post: 17


how will Gotham City survive now I don't suppose they thought that skimming the head would work did they? It doesn't often work, but when it does it can save the car if the head gasket has gone? just a thought...if not...let me know and I will wear black for the next few days!

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Feb 2, 2003 by Baz
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Post: 18


how will Gotham City survive now I don't suppose they thought that skimming the head would work did they? It doesn't often work, but when it does it can save the car if the head gasket has gone? just a thought...if not...let me know and I will wear black for the next few days!

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Feb 5, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 19


Today I snapped.
I went into the garage and said,
"Right, that's it! You and I are going to the auctions. Now!"
Before it had time to react I was in and away.
We got about three hundred yards before the engine died, half way up a hill. I rolled it back, swung it in a gateway and bump started it down the hill.
I pulled back into my drive, leapt out and slammed the door, snarling "You won't get away with this, I'll go anyway, you'll see!"
I got a lift and went the sixty miles to the auction. I bought a police car!
I have to apologise at this point before I utter the forthcoming obscenities. It is an 1800cc turbo diesel Escort.
I drove it home.
It was strange, in this totally characterless car, I came up behind a young person on a moped and instead of zipping past as I asked it to do it slowed down to 30 miles an hour and followed it from 20 feet behind and slightly on his outside shoulder. Only when the poor soul wobbled off into a side street did it pick up and tear off. We came to a group of people outside a pub and it slowed to 5 miles an hour then shot away again. When we got home the batmobile was squatting on its haunches, sneering at me, I thought, but when I looked closely there was water inside the headlight. Maybe it was'nt rain.
My heart is hardened now. I will police Gotham City in a Police car. What do you say to that Citroen?

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Subject: My batmobile
Posted Mar 1, 2003 by Carlyle Ferris
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Post: 20


The time has come, it is the last day of the month, now is the time to cash in the tax disc and take it to the scrapyard.

You may know that feeling. You have to take your beloved old dog to the vet to put it out of your misery.
Then it raises it's heavy head and looks at you through hooded eyelids; the head tilts and rests against your foot. You know it is leaving little pools of pee behind it, it coughs up every meal. It smells like a Columbian Drug dealers jock strap. Surely it is better to do it now and not to let it go on.
Such it is with the batmobile. It splutters and coughs, leaves pools of unsavoury liquid everywhere it stops; it has no value; it squeaks and the exhaust pipe rattles and puffs acrid fumes from all the wrong places yet here we are, March 1st and it sits there, tax disc still in place.
I think it was my guilty conscience. I have been in France for the last week with the Police car. The poor Citroen was not well enough to go and visit its friends this year. To salve my guilt I took it for a drive by the seaside this morning. Gave it some nice fresh petrol to drink, let it stop and look out at the rough seas. How did it repay me? It would'nt start when I wanted to go home! Such is the character of the French. I love them dearly but they can't half be bloody annoying sometimes.
[I've put it up for sale , but it vital that it does not find out this time. If anyone comes to see it I'll pretend I am just taking them for a friendly drive.]
Citroen did chew up a friends Greatest Country Hits tape the other day so it proves that it still has good taste.

(4 replies, Latest reply: Sep 21, 2005)

The Acme Comedy Theatre, Hollywood
Feb 21, 2005

The Acme Comedy Theatre.

Star and Proprietor?

A rather unprepossessing exterior in North La Brea Blvd, Hollywood opens into an elegantly floored ante-room, burgundy colored walls and a velvet rope closing the stairs to the theatre floor. It was evident that a lot of money had been spent on the interior. The best way to find out about a refurbishment is to check the restrooms [loos] and these were great. Clean tidy and locks on the doors.
I called in at the Theatre in the afternoon to find out if I had managed to reserve a seat by my rather garbled call when I arrived in America. I rudely interrupted a rehearsal, completely by accident...There was a disabled sticker on a door and I assumed it was the restroom....no...it was the disabled access to the auditorium. A sweet and vivacious redhead came out and looked for my name on the list: she did not find it but luckily a cancellation had come in and my name was duly written in.
The Theatre houses the Acme, Bravo and Zebra Companies, pictures neatly arranged on the wall. The auditorium itself seats about 120, small by any standard. At $12 per person it would only make about $1,444 a night. Not very economical.
Small but intimate, the ideal place for a one man show. When the Theatre opened the Amalfi Restaurant next door had an adjoining door and appeared part of the Theatre. This would explain the economics of the place. Another possible source of income is the huge advertising hoarding on the top of the building. A radio station on one side and carpet warehouse on the other. The area houses the Jewish quarter of LA and a number of trendy art and photo galleries [ Alexander Schaefer, Cassie Taggart, Jodi Cobb, Nikki Nash] and also a large cement works.

I sat in the third row on the left where I could stretch the rickety legs and waited in eager anticipation..... Tom’s brother had set up a film camera in the middle of the audience and we appeared to be waiting for late arrivals to fill the three seats next to him.

When I went to the theatre in London to see Alyson Hannigan in “When Harry Met Sally”, Joss Whedon and Alexis Denisov turned up...Here I was, in Hollywood waiting to see Tom Lenk and in walked Alyson Hannigan, Alexis Denisov and Joss Whedon and they sat down 6 seats away. Deja vue much.

Tom came on stage and opened with a song. I’ll bet Joss wished he had brought him in for the musical. Not a bad voice. Tom has a dry sense of humour which I could relate to. He has taken quite a lot of material from his rather more excitable and obsessive fans. Letters and pictures. One in particular showing a rather jaundiced Lenk was the primer for a later joke. It would be so embarrassing if the devoted creator
It was funny, very funny in places. He showed a fan site where someone had made up pictures of him and Michelle Trachtenberg in luvvy duvvy poses, very sweet.

One of his friends turned out to be Felicia Day, the lovely Potential Slayer Vi. She and Tom did a musical duet, Tom on trumpet. and Felicia on violin. Both quite competent, Felicia quite good. The rest of his family busked on drums and tuba in the background. Danny strong was his second guest . He has a part on the Gilmore Girls and this was the topic of their comedy. Poor Tom has no TV at the moment. Nothing was scripted but they were obvious mates and worked well together. Danny gave Tom his jaundiced portrait as a present...The joke realised. As part of their joking Tom said that he owned the theatre and I am inclined to think that that is true. It had obviously been bought recently and refurbished why not by him?

Tom had his various acts, Puberty, Technology, etc. He showed how his father used to embarrass him by cycling past his High School on a tricycle. The one thing I expected more of were Buffy revelations but he said virtually nothing about it. This may have been something to do with Joss Whedon the creator and Aly, the Star, being in the audience.

Tom. Danny and Felicia finished with a mock play reading using the script from an internet chat room. The 12 year olds trading insults. His final flourish was a pseudo erotic floor dance which was disturbingly good.

I enjoyed it from start to finish. More amusing than Will and Grace, but here I was eight feet from the stage and eight feet from Aly.....Who would not be enjoying themselves. Aly still has the short hair and prefers to wear green, by the way, and she laughed her little cotton socks off throughout.

Some people hung around at the end but I had 112 miles to drive to San Diego so I set off for my car. I had had a great time so my philosophy of accepting the good times and moving on came into play. I arrived in Escondido at one am after a drive through typically fast and aggressive LA traffic.


As a postscript to the above, I discovered that the redhead who let me in was Cassie Oates, wife of Titus Oates. They have owned the theatre for just over a year and are responsible for the refurbishment. Titus does a lot of the directing.

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Will and Grace at CBS, Santa Monica
Feb 21, 2005

I had a surreal day out in Santa Monica today. I got up at 6.30 to drive to the CBS lot to see the making of Will and Grace. The ticket was free but it still cost me 45 dollars. I arrived at eight o'clock as I did not want to be snarled up in LA traffic all morning. CBS told me to go a way and come back at 9.30 so I was stuck trying to find a place to park in LA. I found a parking meter, put my money in, went off for a cup of tea [with vanilla milk...icky] and came back to find a forty five dollar parking ticket on my car.
Now, apparently, just reading the part where it says maximum stay two hours and then parking for 1 1/2 hours is not enough. You have to read the small print underneath where it says "Street Cleaning on Tuesday between 8 and 10. As this was Tuesday they put a ticket on the car. I have given up caring now. I have not been able to go to a major city for years now without falling foul of some pathetic little sub-clause of an annex to a bye-law of a local regulation stopping whatever it is that I am attempting to do. I used to rail against the petty beaurocracies that have paralysed our cities in the name of free flowing traffic, with their bumps and crimps and chicanes, now I just don't give a shit and contribute to their retirement funds in the hope that they will all retire early and leave me alone.
I got on to the Lot at 9.15 and joined the queue which was already 73 plus special guests long and a further couple of hundred people came in behind me. I was beginning to think that the studio must seat 500 but it did'nt. Probably about 200. I have no idea what happened to the rest of the people but no doubt I will find out when I fail to get entry to "That 70's Show" on Friday.

We were escorted along the Burma railway with guards flanking us at every escape route, luckily they did not beat us if we faltered, but the atmosphere was similar.

The queueing process took one and three quarter hours [and the Americans accuse the British of excessive queueing]. When we finally managed to get to our seats it was a relief to sit down . This relief was not so much short lived as long lived, as we where still in those same seats five hours later. We could guess that the trolleys of food and drink that passed below the auditorium were not for us. How right we were. Nothing for five hours, worse than a cheap airline flight.

The first surprise was how small the sets were. The W and G apartment is actually quite small, almost the size of a real living room. There was a restaurant, an exterior and Karen's entrance room on the stage and that was it. They shoot with four cameras on film and do two basic takes of everything. There are several variations of the script which they run by the audience to see if we laugh. The awful thing is that when they mess up it gets as many laughs as the real take. Eric McCormack is the most 'professional' of the cast, as Will he hit the dialogue and the marks almost perfectly every time. Sean Hayes, as Jack, rarely got it right first, second or even third time. In many ways that was more entertaining than getting it right.

I am not going to relate the plot because a lot of people watch it and probably don't want spoilers. This episode is after valentines day in season 7 so I think we are a long way behind in England.

We had the "Warm Up Guy" who was charged with keeping the audience happy for five hours. He did a really good job. Lots of Q and A and banter with the crowd. Luckily there were the usual refugees from the Gerry Springer Show prepared to jump,wave and screech for minimal provocation or reward. One even self launched skywards and knocked out one of the microphones gathering our responses. The actors did not really play to, or even see the studio audience. When they did, as with Sean Hayes, they fell apart. The Director did not seem to find audience interaction as much fun as he did. Warm up guy handed out choccys and a few souvenir mugs and Tee shirts

I was surprised that it was funny in "real" life as we come to expect massive camera and post production trickery in films. This format was as simple as could be imagined. There were no closeups, no over, over, two shots, No panning. Essentially they used four cameras and filmed the whole sequence as it would appear and then did reruns with changes in the script. There were nine staff scriptwriters on set looking at each shot and changing anything that did not work. Sometimes the changes were better, other times not. Editing will see what lives on for the DVD's. They did all the takes in the sequence that it appears on screen for the benefit of the audiences. It did take five hours and not twenty two minutes as it will appear on screen. Mind you, one of the delays was a result of a decorative rush mat falling off a chimney breast and nearly setting fire to the whole place.

The guest star turned out to be none other than Luke Perry whom I last saw with Alyson Hannigan in "When Harry Met Sally" in London last year. He played a hot gay bird watching geek. The target of Jack's attentions.

It was an experience not to be missed. There was the usual snappy dialogue and odd plot lines. It was funny. Debra Messing looked gorgeous, fabulous hair, nuff said. If you bat for the other team, Eric Mc Cormack looked equally sveldt.

The price? 1.2 million per episode if they stay in the studio, double that if they go out for exteriors. It is a busy life. They work six days a week for three weeks. The cast get a free week but the writers have to plot ahead. They do it for eight to nine months of the year. The sound and film crews work on two or more shows a week. One on Monday and Tuesday and a second films on Thursday and Friday. This Crew are on That 70's Show at the end of this week.

It was five hours, but great fun. I managed to retain my anonimity in spite of sitting next to "Warm Up Guy" for the whole time. The difficult thing is to laugh at the same joke twice in quick succession. The lady, or was it the gannet, behind me managed it well and endlessly. She substituted well for "Tall Guy" who usually gets to sit or stand in front of me at every event. I missed him. I last saw him at the Cybernet Exhibition in Universal, God rest his soul.

(1 reply, Latest reply: Feb 24, 2005)