I Saw Elvis In The Woods

Torchwood discovering some form has capped off a pretty strange week. For a start one of our guinea pigs is pregnant. Which came as something of a shock I can tell you. Especially since we've been calling the lady in question "Bob" for the past three months. So it means that either the guy in the pet store lied to us or "Bob" has swallowed a football. Which ever way it goes, it appears I'll be busy finding new homes for some wee little rodents in the next fortnight or so. Or buying myself a new football. You know, one of the two.

Secondly Britney Spears is back in the news again, specifically in an article published in "NOW!" magazine. For those not familiar with the wonder that is "NOW!", it's one of those tremendously trashy celebrity obsessed rags featuring stories such as "Miley Cyrus buys some new shoes". Anyway this weeks issue featured the epic headline "Britney Goes Crazy AGAIN!!!!" (Gee Note: How great is that? The only way it could be any better was if it read "Britney - Top Shrink Says "She's F***ing Bonkers Man!”). Now according to more reputable sources Britney has spent the past two years or so gradually reclaiming her grasp on reality after shaving all her hair off and speaking in a British accent. So what could have sent her on this dreadful downward spiral?

Well nothing really. It's just that according to a former bodyguard it turns out that Britney thinks that Unicorns are real and that they live in a Zoo "somewhere in New Zealand". And that's it. I mean OK, believing in Unicorns is a bit daft and all but it doesn't make you crazy. Covering yourself in human excrement, standing on a street corner, and shouting "BEWARE THE LUMINOUS FRIDGE!!!!!" at anyone who walks past. Now that's crazy. And I'm sure it's been, oh gosh, ages since Ms. Spears has done something like that.



Secondly it turns out I spoke too soon about LaToyah Jackson. You may remember in a earlier blog post I wrote about how frustrating it must be for the media that LaToyah, the second most unbalanced of the Jackson children, wasn't saying anything even remotely bonkers to the press. Well dagnammit if she hasn't gone and made me look like a fool. The News Of The Screws World reported this Sunday that LaToyah had released… um…. this statement.

I believe Michael was murdered, I felt that from the start. Not just one person was involved, rather it was a conspiracy of people. He was surrounded by a bad circle. Michael was a very meek, quiet, loving person. People took advantage of that.

People fought to be close to him, people who weren’t always on his side. Less than a month ago, I said I thought Michael was going to die before the London shows because he was surrounded by people who didn’t have his best interests at heart. Michael was worth more than a billion dollars. When anyone is worth that much money, there are always greedy people around them. I said to my family a month ago, he’s never going to make it to London. He was worth more dead than alive.

(Gee Note: Dammit LaToyah! We had a deal. Remember that? You wouldn't say anything completely mad an in return I would say how refreshing it was that you hadn't said anything completely mad. Tsk I don't know. We're going to have to start this thing all over again now.)

Anyway, getting back to Torchwood. At one point in my last post I happened to mention that Torchwood was one of Russell T Davies’s final swan songs as the man in charge of the Whoniverse.

And that’s exactly what it turned out to be. In fact, it was almost as if Russ went “Right then boys. I’ve screwed up the last four Doctor Who story arcs. Chibnall’s managed to screw up the entirety of Torchwood. Let’s see if we can’t put this right between us huh?”. And thinking about it, Russell must have been desperate for it to work. You see Doctor Who will survive long after Davies has left the series, and under the guidance of Stephen Moffett it will probably become far more critically acclaimed. Torchwood on the other hand is on the edge. High ratings yes - but really would anyone miss it if it was gone? And so with Torchwood Davies has the chance to not only show how talented he really is, but also help redeem the reputation of all involved in the project.

And after the five episodes mini series last week we can safely say it was mission accomplished.

The thing is this may very well be the end of Torchwood. It's certainly the end of Torchwood as we know it. And if it is then, by God, it’s one hell of a way to bow out. In five hours of televised broadcast there was enough emotional highs and lows to satisfy even the most hardened soul. Arguably it’s Davies’s best work. It certainly a thousand times better than his work for Doctor Who. If you’ve never seen Torchwood before, you may want to skip the first two series and head straight to this. Trust me, everything before it was just prologue. A badly written prologue.

Speaking of badly written prologues - the reason I called this meeting today was to discuss UFO's. In a relatively small story, those guardians of common sense at The Sun newspaper recently ran a piece about how Great Britain is having a bit of a boom period for UFO sightings this year, with a staggering 231 individual cases reported to the Ministry of Defence in the past six months (Gee Note: Why the hell anybody bothers reporting UFO's to the Ministry of Defence I have no idea. I mean really, if the evidence of the recently released "UFO Files" is anything to go by, the amount of investigation that those work shy bastards carry out is "So you saw a UFO huh? Did anyone die? No? Good, I think that's all the information we need. Thanks for your time"). This puts the UK well on course for a record number of reported UFO sightings in one year, the previous record being established all the way back in, er, 2008 with 285 sightings over the full 12 months.



But where has this sudden burst of sky high activity come from? Well numerous theories have been put forward. One suggests that our skies are getting busier thanks to increased alien activity in the lead up to 2012. Which, as any sane person will tell you, is when the World is due to come to an end. Or not. Whatever. Britain’s own Nick Pope, one of the foremost experts on this type of thing, disagrees. It's not that the skies are busier Jack. Oh no. UFO's have always been a plenty. Nowadays however, thanks to the fact that mobile phones and digital cameras are all the rage with the kids, people feel more confident in reporting them because they can back them up with grainy video footage. Hooray technology.

Now Nick Pope is certainly a smart chap. So he could very well be correct in his hypothesis, and that the soon to be introduced camera clothes could lead to an even bigger boom in extra terrestrial sightings (Gee Note: Does anyone else think that there are some scientists out there with way too much time and money on their hands? “Hmmm… you know we should develop clothes that take photos.” “You know Jim, you may be on to something. After that we can make shoes that can cook a rotisserie chicken.” “Trebles all around!”). But I have my own theory as to what’s caused this upsurge in sightings.

It’s hardly scientific, and I’ve done nothing in the way of research, but I reckon it’s all to do with the global economic crisis.

You see in times like these people need some form of escapism. It’s the reason why currently Sci-Fi televsion is being churned out by every major network across the land. Why comic book movies are the number one attraction at the cinema this summer. Why at this very moment I’m listening to some Japenese pop music while drinking wine out of a mug (Gee Note: Because that’s how I roll). So my guess is that some people might find it soothing to watch the skies at night. It is human nature after all that in times of crisis we try and hang on to hope in even the most bizarre ways. It’s possible that a lot of us are simply hoping that there’s another life form in this universe. And maybe, just maybe, those other life forms will be able to save us. Either that or their in a much worse state than we are. Both will probably let us feel a lot better about things if we’re honest.

Sadly despite all those sightings, aliens have yet to be proven to exist definitively. And so until then we’re left to find our own ways to escape.

Now if you’ll excuse me, a headline in “NOW!” has just caught my eye. “Jennifer Anniston Goes Back To Gerard Butler”? This I gotta read.

A brief return of our occasional feature "Gee watches a Science Fiction television programme and give his opinion on it. Lots of people then email him to tell him he's wrong.".


“We can be a bit more visceral, more violent, and more sexual, if we want to. Though bear in mind that it's very teenage to indulge yourself in blood and gore, and Torchwood is going to be smarter than that.”

So said Russell T. Davies. The above quote is taken from an article in SFX magazine in 2005. Davies, the executive producer and head writer for long running Sci-Fi show Doctor Who, had given an interview to SFX to help promote a new project, one he hoped would cement his reputation as one of the most powerful players in British television.





Earlier that year Doctor Who itself had been given a “reboot”. For those not familiar with the term, a reboot is when an old franchise long since sent to the doldrums is brought back, dusted off, spruced up a bit and sent forth with a modern day attitude. Sometimes this proves to be very successful, such as the absolute fun fest that was this years Star Trek movie. Other times… no… not so much… such as the recent “Bionic Woman” TV series, which lasted all of eight episodes before departing our screens forever with a whimper.

In 1989 after a 27 year run on the BBC it appeared the Doctor Who’s time had come to an end. A combination of low ratings, and the fact that new BBC programme controller Michael Grade didn’t care for the show, led to it being consigned to the trash can. It was a bitter sweet moment for long time fans of the show. The truth is that, despite glimpses here and there, Doctor Who had been struggling for a long time.

By the time the noughties had rolled around however, attitudes towards the good Doctor had changed somewhat. After a string of flops for the BBC in the field of “family entertainment”, including the God awful Spy-Fi show “Bugs”, the station had been left trailing in the ratings to long time rival ITV. The beeb desperate for something, anything, to stop the tide of viewers leaving for the competition started to shop around for new programmes.

They struggled initially however. It appeared that no matter how hard the BBC tried to pull something out of the bag they always came up short. Then in 2003 some bright spark realised that they already had the rights to an established brand name with iconic characters, and thought it might be worth pitching the idea to the higher ups in the BBC. Michael Grade, who by this point had become Chairman of the Beeb, decided to roll the dice against his better judgement and a new series of Doctor Who was given a green light. It was a brand new lease of life for the Time Lord.

But who would run the show? Well step forward had take a bow Mr. Russell T. Davies. Davies was born in Swansea in 1963 (Gee Note: Fun fact time. My cousin went to school with him. Which should mean that he’d definitely return my calls right? Well it turns out that, no, no it doesn’t. That Russell T. Davies. Just because he’s become all famous now. He thinks he so smartie) and studied English Literature in Oxford. After graduating he started to carve out a career in television, doing bits and bobs here and there. He wrote the odd children’s television programme, penning three episodes of Chucklevision and several more for hospital drama Children’s Ward. And in doing so he slowly worked his way up the television tree.

He moved in to adult drama - joining the writing teams for the soap opera Coronation Street and later the crime drama Touching Evil. And then in 1999 Russell hit the jackpot. Commissioned by Channel 4, at the time renowned for it’s contemporary and challenging content, Davies created and wrote a series called “Queer as Folk”. Dealing with the trials and tribulations of three gay men living in Manchester, it courted controversy with graphic portrayals of intercourse, as well as a storyline where a 15 year old minor has a sexual relationship with an older man. Amidst a storm of negative press reports and outcries from conservative members of the public, the show lost it’s main sponsor after only a couple of programmes.

It didn’t matter though . The programme did gangbuster numbers in the ratings, despite a late night time slot and all the poor media attention. Davies became a national celebrity in the process, and was labelled by pretty much everybody as the next big thing for British television. In America, thanks to folks like J.J. Abrams, Joss Whedon, and Aaron Sorkin, quality writer’s had become one of television's prized possessions. And finally the UK had one of it’s own. Russell T. Davies.

And so when trying to find the right person to helm this new Doctor Who, Davies was the obvious choice. Talented. Personable. Media friendly. Best of all, Russell T. was a self confessed Who fanboy. The BBC offered the position of lead writer for Doctor Who, as well as the sweetener of executive producer, to our Russ and he gladly accepted. It was a perfect match.

Since that very moment Doctor Who has gone from strength to strength. It has become the centrepiece of the BBC Saturday evening schedule. Some would argue it has become the centrepiece for the entire station itself. It regularly draws in high ratings, has won numerous awards, and made superstars out of actors like David Tennant and Billie Piper.

A lot of credit should go to Davies for this. He stripped away a lot of what made the previous Doctor Who such a mess, simplified the story of a lone alien looking for his place in the universe, and placed a greater focus on the human characters of the series, adding elements of soap opera style plot points such as family arguments and romance. It meant that for the first time in a long time Doctor Who was truly accessible. It was like a three ring circus. If you don’t like the elephants, you’ll like the clowns. If you don’t like the clowns, you’ll like the acrobats. Doctor Who literally had something for everyone.

There is however one criticism that can be laid squarely at Russell T. Davies’ door. And that is, ironically, for a man who obviously loves the genre he just doesn’t write Sci-Fi very well. No really, every Davies episode so far has had glaring issues, most notably the season finales. It appears that despite being able to write one hell of first chapter, Davies loses steam towards the end and inevitably it all falls apart. In the four series we’ve had so far, all four finales have been a let down. Even Davies’ mid season stand alone episodes have been more often than not marred by lame jokes, non sensical support characters, and plot holes the size of Madagascar. The harsh truth is a lot of the new Doctor’s finer moments has been the work of other writers, most notably Stephen Moffett and Paul Cornell.

Still at least Russell’s work has never come anywhere near as bad as the majority of Torchwood episodes.



Thanks to rip roaring success of Doctor Who, the BBC offered Davies the chance to create a post watershed Sci-Fi show. And so Davies came up with Torchwood, a spin off of Doctor Who starring the popular Who character Captain Jack Harkness. Harkness heads up a team of consisting of former police officer Gwen Harper, and all around dogsbody Ianto Jones. The team protect the world from extra terrestrial threats that all somehow end up landing in or around Cardiff.

Now go back to the top of this blog and read that quote again. It’s not hard to envisage Torchwood as some kind of “grownup Doctor Who”. A programme with all the good bits of Who but without the silliness put in there just for the kids. Except that’s not really the case. I might get in to trouble with Naveed over this but the truth is Torchwood is unbelievably daft.

For a start all the main characters are, apparently, bi-sexual. No really, they all end up bedding each other at some point. If that’s not bad enough then the aliens themselves aren’t much better. In only the second episode the crew’s major threat was an extra terrestrial gas that, um, well infected this poor lass, forcing her to boink people to death. It’s all very juvenile.

Still it’s not RTD’s fault, as the majority of the two season’s of Torchwood have so far been written by Chris Chibnall, a man to whom the word “subtlety” is seemingly a outdated concept in today’s 24/7 world.

However Torchwood has done fairly well in the ratings - leading to it’s promotion from cable channel BBC 3 all the way to the terrestrial channel BBC 1 for it’s third series. Probably thinking that little green men running around gang banging everything in sight wasn’t quite suitable for their main channel, the beeb has tweaked the format a wee bit. Rather than a 20 episode “monster of the week” season we now get a five episode mini-series to played over the course of one week. Most importantly, Chibnall has been replaced by the man who started it all - Russell T. Davies.

This is one of Russell’s final swan songs as Doctor Who head honcho - as at the end of this year he hands the reigns over to Stephen Moffett. So it’s fascinating to see what, if anything, he can do with Torchwood.

The first episode of the new series entitled “Children of The Earth” aired last night.

It rocked.

I mean really really rocked.

I want to say more, but I realise some of the readers of this blog are overseas and as such it hasn’t aired there yet. And so rather than do a full blown review and spoil everything I’ve decided to post the notes I made while watching the show last night.

Hope they make some sort of sense.

2 minutes to go - You know the trailer for this is actually quite good. But it is Torchwood. And RTD. Hopes not high.

1m34s - Well it's 1965 apparently. And we know this because everyone is wearing a woolly hat. Something to do with a bus full of kids walking towards a white light. Why? God knows. But some very dramatic violin music makes me think they're not going to someone's birthday party. Unless of course it's Michael Jackson’s birthday party. Which would explain the nervous look on kid's face actually.

2m33s - Why is everyone orange? I mean I know this is the first proper Torchwood in HD but come on man. This is Wales. No one gets a tan like that unless they happen to live next door to a nuclear reactor.

4m34s - Somehow, after a brief interaction with a guy who looks a bit like Mario, Gwen's suddenly quite likeable. Either that or this Buck's Fizz is a lot stronger than I thought.

6m48s - Nice interplay between Jack, Ianto, and a new hospital doctor guy who I think might be the next Torchwood recruit. Jack and Ianto somehow manage to be hysterical by trying to convince the doctor they are the concerned neighbours of a patient without really doing anything funny. That's pretty damn good acting. Whisper it quietly but this has been quite delightful so far.

10m34s - Hmmm. Torchwood has gone the way of Lost by asking a series of intriguing questions at the outset. Why are all these Chinese men dying for no reason? Why are children around the world coming to a full stop? Where have I seen the guy playing the Home office minister before?

14m59s - So the doctor is a new Torchwood recruit - good - there's something about him I like.

17m44s - Children have stopped again. Oooooh now there's a pretty beefy brass section playing in the background. Can't be good.

18m49s - That reminds me. I need to check the batteries on the fire alarm.

19m19s - Wow. A really freaky of chant of "We are coming" broken up in to "We... We... We... We are... We are... We are... We are coming... We are coming" which produces some major goose bumps. And then, completely ruined by a bloody stupid reaction shot from Gwen. "OH MY GOD". Dammit. For a brief moment there you had it.

26m36s - Seriously what the hell's happened to this programme? I've just had my heart strings pulled by two government officials I've never seen before. One asks the other "Do you have children?" and the other replies "Too busy working. (Pause) Turns out to be a God send". In that one exchange those two characters become fully three dimensional. Brilliant writing. Brilliantly executed.

32m05s - Gwen continues to be likeable. A lot of talk so far about Jack and Ianto being a couple which is probably going somewhere. Oh and the British Government are eeeeevil. This is whipping by.

42m57s - Paul Copley, an actor who turns up in so many programmes playing character parts that he's one of those guys people go "Oh it's him!" and never know his name has made an appearance as a mental patient. And he's fantastic. In a nice sit down with Gwen he manages to be sweet and lovely while also making you think he's crazy enough to snap her neck at any moment. Great stuff.

49m33s - Turns out the doctor isn't a new Torchwood recruit. Good. I, er, never liked him anyway.

53m52s - Gwen's happy. Everyone else is freaking out.

57m47s - And there we go. No sex for the sake of it. No swearing for the sake of it. No unnecessary gore. Completely enjoyable. I'm confused. Is this Torchwood?

I cannot wait to see where this goes. Of course it will more than likely lead to disappointment. It is Russell T. Davies after all.

But you have to admit, he CAN write one hell of a first chapter.

I’ll hopefully be back at the end of the week with some thoughts on the series as a whole. I’ll see you then.

OK so, I finally bit the bullet and set up a twitter account. The good news is I am only about a year and a half late jumping on the bandwagon. The bad news is that I really have no idea what to do on there. I mean sure I get the basic concept of it. Let people know what you are up to. Come up with witty one liners. Ask celebrities questions they'll never reply to. That type of thing. Sadly I'm never really doing anything interesting. Nor am I that funny. So if you do wish to stalk follow me, expect lots of updates along the lines of "I'm sitting down." or "Mmmm, 50 slices of American cheese". Seriously that's about as exciting as my life gets.

One major annoyance with all this is that my first choice username "isawelvis" has already been bagged by some presumptuous little upstart in Tampa, Florida. In fact it appears all the good names are taken. I literally spent way too much time trying to set up an account with the user ids "flippermcginty", "foreshadowingbadger2", and "dudedidyouseethat?" only to be told "Sorry bro, you're not as original as you think you are" by Twitter's server. I finally gave up and settled for "elvisinthewoods", despite the fact that it makes no sense. Still unless there's a guy out there who prides himself on surviving on the berries he finds whilst humming "Heartbreak Hotel" then I think it should be a pretty unique tag.

Speaking of the King everybody's favourite pop icon Michael Jackson passed away last Thursday. Which is quite sad I guess. I don't know. I mean MJ's been on a slippery slope since 1993 so it's kinda amazing he lasted this long. He was diagnosed with lupus in the early 90's, as well as vitiligo which was the cause of his insanely pale skin. He'd been addicted to pain killers on and off since then, as well as barely eating enough to survive, and at the time of his death his 5'10'' frame only carried 112lbs (Gee Note: Dude I ate, like, 112lbs for breakfast this morning).

Truth is, even with all that going on, Jackson was a freakin' oddball. Not in the endlessly entertaining Lindsey Lohan/Britney Spears get smashed, throw up all over the paparazzi, and crash your Ferrari in to a fountain kinda odd. I mean Tom Cruise freaking out on Oprah and then later claiming that psychology is all a load of old bollocks kinda odd. Even if you discount half of the reports of his bizarre behaviour as being fabricated, such as him sleeping in an oxygen chamber, or buying the bones of Joseph Merrick "The Elephant Man", then his admission that he used to share a bathroom with a chimpanzee is enough.

Ah Bubbles, Jackson’s best friend who also happened to be an ape. In 1985 Michael "rescued" the chimp from a cancer research clinic in Texas. From that point they lived happily together until some point before 2003, where Jackson revealed that Bubbles had become overly aggressive (Gee Note: My theory? Nicotine withdrawal. Think about it.) and moved him to an animal sanctuary where he could throw faeces and swing on tires to his heart's content. My favourite story about Bubbles was reported in the National Enquirer some years back, where it claimed that Jackson's long time "rival" Prince had used extrasensory perception (Gee Note: Or woovy bezerk mind powers to you and me) to turn Bubbles crazy. Jackson was reported as saying "What kind of sicko would mess with a monkey?". Of course it was all made up. Never the less the idea of tiny little Prince sending mind bullets to Michael Jackson's chimpanzee just to, you know, mess with him still makes me chuckle.

Jackson's passing has of course meant that Papa Lazaru's Media Circus has come to town, bringing it's assorted collection of freaks and geeks along for the ride. LaToyah Jackson, Michael's sister, has been interviewed ad nauseum. Presumably in the hope that she'll say something scandalous, as she did in 1993 during a press conference in Tel Aviv amidst the first of Michael's trials dealing with alleged child abuse. When a member of the press asked LaToyah about the allegations she responded with a quite magnificent statement where she claimed she was tired of being a "silent collaborator" and was taking her stand against Michael's "crimes against small, innocent children".

Alas between now and then LaToyah, who claims to have been forced to be negative about Jackson by her abusive husband, has since retracted the whole thing and now has nothing but nice things to say about her brother. Which must be incredibly frustrating for the media. So it should come as no shock then that the press gang have brought out an old favourite to add some colour to the proceedings. Step forward and take a bow Michael Jackson's long time friend Mr. Uri Geller.

Uri Geller, born Gellér György in Tel Aviv in 1946, is… um… well look the dude claims to be able to effect material objects with the power of his mind. A gift that was apparently given to him by aliens. As in beings from another planet. Not Sting hanging out in New York or something. Geller became a sensation during the 1970's where thanks to various television shows across mainland Europe, Britain, and yes even America he displayed talents that had Europeans dropping their sausages, the British dropping their monocles, and Americans dropping their handguns (Gee Note: Causing chaos in the process. Tsk. Americans huh?) in astonishment.

But what caused such an international uproar? Well it was this kinda stuff.



(Gee Note: That night Swedish Accident and Emergency services were flooded. In homes across the nation cutlery that had been previous lying dormant on top of television sets suddenly leapt in to the air, causing many an innocent bystander to end up with a fork lodged in their eye. It was later blamed on a combination of a drifting weather balloon and an electrical storm. Why the f*** Swedish people were keeping cutlery on top of their television in the first place remains a mystery.)

Geller doesn’t just bend spoons mind. Oh no. He can also make watches go faster and slower, and move the dial on a compass, all by using the “supernatural powers”. The problem is a lot of other people can do the exact same thing just by performing regular magic tricks. In fact some people do it a lot better. Like this guy for example:



But while Geller freely admits that his powers can be replicated by simple stunts, he claims that he really does have supernatural gifts. Which of course is tremendously silly. Nobody really believes it. Still some people get very angry about the whole thing, thundering on about how Geller is a fraud and should be banned from making money by deceiving the public. One such person is James Randi.

It's almost impossible to type Geller's name in to a search engine and not stumble across a mention of Mr. Randi. Born in Toronto in 1928 this native Canadian was formerly a stage magician sometimes known as "The Amazing Randi" (Gee Note: Isn't it great magicians get to call themselves "Amazing" as part of their job role? Makes one think people should do it in other walks of life. Like a busy office for example. "Hey, Stu. Did you get those TPS reports completed?" "Brian, I no longer answer to the name Stuart. From now on I shall only be addressed as 'The Magnificent Stupendi'!!!!" "Er... OK. Magnificent Stupendi. Did you complete the TPS reports you were supposed to?" "The Magnificent Stupendi has no time for TPS reports! The Magnificent Stupendi was too busy fashioning a cape out polythene pockets. Look! Look how it flutters in the breeze!" "Man. You've got issues". ). Upon his retirement from magic at the age of 60, Randi turned his attention to investigating claims of the paranormal and supernatural. Using his background as a performer, Randi became an outspoken critic of psychics and the like, claiming they were using nothing more than the same type of tricks he practiced in his career. Determined to prove his point he did the rounds on many a talk show, and even made a series of television programmes with titles like "Secrets of the psychics EXPOSED!!!".

In 1996 Randi established the James Randi Educational Foundation. The JREF serves as an institution to investigate paranormal claims using controlled scientific procedures, as well as educating the public against unverified claims of supernatural goings on. For a number of years now the JREF has offered a prize of $1,000,000 for anyone who can prove they have unworldly powers. Sadly it means undergoing various tests under stringent scientific conditions, otherwise I'd have already turned up on their doorstep claiming I could turn myself in to a parrot or something. As of this writing no one has managed to pass the preliminary stages of the tests and as such the $1,000,000 remains unclaimed.

As you can probably guess Geller's claims that he is all kinds of psychic'd up does not sit all that well with Randi. And so the two have been embroiled in, if not a feud per se, certainly a game of one-upmanship over the past 30 years. Randi points to several examples of Geller not being on the level, such as a video available on youtube where Uri apparently uses a magnet on his thumb to move a compass dial. Or the time when in 1977, under the advice of Randi himself, Johnny Carson invited Geller on to the Tonight Show to display his talents but did not allow Geller to us his own props. Forced to use "regular" apparatus supplied by the Tonight Show, Geller failed spectacularly. To the point where if you watch it back now, and whatever you feel about Uri personally, it's really kinda uncomfortable watching a grown man squirm.

Touché says Geller. How about the time when he allowed the Stanford Research Institute and two noted physicists Russell Targ and Harold E. Puthoff (Gee Note: Who sounds like a character from a children's book. You know, Harold is a lazy man who never gets things done on time, until one day he's eaten by a snake. That kind of thing.) to test his abilities? The SRI concluded that Geller did indeed display abilities that warranted further investigation and even came up with a name for the phenomenon - "The Geller Effect" (Gee Note: See, you know you've made it when you've got an effect named after you. I've often dreamed about what an effect named after myself would be like. Probably something along the lines of "a person sits on the sofa eating tasty yet ridiculously unhealthy food while watching cheaply made television programmes and silently mocking celebrities. The Gareth Effect."). Or the fact that Geller admitted as far back as 1975 that some of his performances are sprinkled with magic tricks, owing to the fact that the spoon bending thing doesn't always work.

Now to get this back on track, the reason I bring all this up is to show that Geller is used to the kind of negative publicity that haunted Jackson during his career, and so is in a unique position to offer some insight on the man's life. Even better, despite being long time friends, to the point where Jackson was Geller's best man when he renewed his wedding vows, the pair had a turbulent relationship. According to Geller an argument about a 2002 documentary entitled "Living with Michael Jackson" had caused a strain on the relationship after the film, which Geller had talked Jackson in to participating in, cast Jackson in a negative light.

Now you can imagine the media salivating over this. Uri Geller, the bitter ex-friend of Michael Jackson, the man who can read people's minds, the guy who knows the pressure celebrity brings, is willing to give an interview about the death of the King of Pop. He's bound to have a scandalous story or two. Hell it might even be the interview of the century. I mean Jackson was a freak right? Uri's sure to have the inside scoop.



So what did Geller say? Well it went a little something like this:

"I once asked him "Michael, are you lonely?" And Michael said to me, "Uri Geller, I am a very lonely man."."

(Gee Note: Man who really talks like that? When was the last time someone asked you a question and you felt the need to reply using the person's full name? I mean really, say that sentence out loud. It just doesn't sound right, does it? Unfortunately my girlfriend was so amused when she heard the interview with Geller she's now taken to answering everything I say to her in that same style. Leading to such classic lines as "Darling, have you fed the guinea pigs today?" "Gareth Davies. Yes I have.", "When was the last time we made soup together?" "Gareth Davies. We've never made soup together...", and my personal favourite "You couldn't make me a cup of tea could you sugar?" "Gareth Davies. Make it yourself you lazy sod". Amazingly she's shown no signs of getting tired of this.)

And that was it. No scandal. No controversy. No "That Michael Jackson, what a weirdo". Nothing but a few vague references to his and Geller's "up and down relationships". Certainly not what one would call an earth shaking statement.

And perhaps that's the way it should be. I mean Jackson's life so full of controversy that maybe, just maybe, he deserves to be laid to rest with the minimum of fuss.

Mind, I'm willing to bet that in a couple of weeks time the National Enquirer leads with the news that Michael Jackson was murdered. Thing is, something's never change.

Seriously dude. What the hell? I mean I'm all for exploring the boundaries of science, but who looks at a Beagle and goes "Hey guys... these dogs. I mean I know they're cute and all, but I think they're missing something. Hmmm. Hey guys. Guys. Come 'ere a minute. What if, now bare with me on this, but what if we made them glow in the dark?"

Last night, over a glass or two of hops and barley, my girlfriend and I were discussing who should be the subject of the next major Hollywood biopic. Having read that day's National Enquirer she decided that it was high time for the life story of David Carradine to grace the silver screen, controversial death and all. See according to this weeks Jennifer Anniston Weekly Enquirer, Carradine was… wait for it… MURDERED.

(Gee Note: It should be noted that the Enquirer said the same thing about James Brown. And Barry White. And, er, pretty much any celebrity that has snuffed it over the past five years. However this time according to the Enquirer it was those gosh darned Lady Boys that done ol' David in. In an interview with movie producer David Winters, who's previous work includes such smash hits movies as "Raw Justice", "Space Mutiny", and everybody’s favourite Robert Ginty vehicle "Mission: Kill", he claims that a pair of transsexual prostitutes conspired to strangle Carradine with a piece of rope and then modify the crime scene to make it look like an accident. Winters conveniently left out the all important answer to "Ummm. Why would they do that?", but did go on to say that "I strongly believe Lady Boys are responsible. Lady Boys operate in pairs. David would not have stood a chance. They can be very brutal.". Personally I think Winters is confusing Lady Boys with the velociraptors Bob Peck met in Jurassic Park, but there we go).

And it's a good shout. No really it is. Carradine's life and death has everything a good drama needs. Success, failure, a comeback, sex, martial arts, and a real life battle with a secret sect of Kung Fu assassins if family lawyer Mark Geragos is to be believed. Who wouldn't want to see that? Install a half decent director, script writer and star and who knows, it might even win an Oscar.



Thing is as much as my partner is correct to choose Carradine there is, in my mind, a much more interesting life story currently being played out in the media. And no it's not the tale of some slightly bonkers Scottish woman who can sing a bit. Instead it's the tale of 43 year old Scottish man Gary McKinnon, who has Asperger's syndrome and is currently the subject of many a court case here in the UK. The reason? Well it turns out that Mr. McKinnon has rather annoyed the United States Government, and they are therefore attempting to extradite the chap in order to try him in one of their own courts. You know, one of those strange places where the lawyers and judges don't wear wigs and nobody says the word "M'lud". Various websites, including the excellent Naveed's Realm, have jumped to McKinnon's defence claiming he should either be set free or tried for his crimes here in the UK. Many feel that McKinnon simply won't receive a fair trial in the US of A.

"But what were his crimes?" I here you ask. Oh nothing really. All he did was hack in to several secure networks used by American Defence and Research Departments, most notably NASA, in the hope of trying to prove Alien life exists and that the American Government is well aware of such things and has been covering them up for, oh gosh, ages. You know. The usual.

McKinnon was born in Glasgow in 1966. At 14 he had his first computer, which considering the year was 1980, would have been a pretty big deal at the time (Gee Note: The earliest my family had a computer was about five years after that, and even then it was a ZX Spectrum. For those not familiar with the Speccy, it consisted of a keyboard with rubber keys and a cassette tape player instead of a disk drive. The tapes themselves used to make a high pitched squealing sound when played, meaning hoards of stray dogs would gather at our front door every time we decided to play Horace Goes Skiing). At the age of 17 he left school and like all budding IT enthusiast he was gainfully employed as a, erm, hairdresser. It wasn't until the early 1990's that he returned to his first love, earning a set of qualifications in the subject of computing and working on a series of contracts in that field.

By the late 90's McKinnon had developed a curiosity with aliens and UFOs. Somehow he had come up with a theory that not only had little green men visited our tiny blue planet, but had gone and buggered it all up by crashing their ship. The US Army had then salvaged the resultant wreckage, and had used it to develop all sorts of woovy bezerk gadgets. Such as anti gravity devices. And free renewable energy.

So McKinnon decided to conduct some "research" by hacking in to unsecured PC's owned and operated by the United States Government (Gee Note: Amazingly he managed to do so using an internet connection supplied by a 56k modem. For all you non-techy folks out there it's akin to robbing Fort Knox aremd with only a tooth pick and a small plastic sign that says "Milkmen do it on your doorstep"). From the glamorous location of his girlfriend's aunts house, McKinnon would go through a nightly ritual of sparking up a joint, popping open a can of Fosters, and then spending the next seven hours getting progressively stoned and accessing NASA computers remotely.

By the time 2000 rolled around McKinnon's obsession started to cause a wee bit of a problem. He quit his job as a systems analysts for a small business, which infuriated his girlfriend who promptly dumped him (Gee Note: Tsk. Women eh? Always wanting you to do unreasonable things like earn a living and wash occasionally). Still using his now ex-girlfriends Aunt's house as a base of operations, he dedicated himself full time to getting wasted and lurking around the internet. Going under the alias of SOLO he was successful in infiltrating any number of classified networks. He even started to get a bit cocky leaving a message on one PC he visited stating:

US foreign policy is akin to government-sponsored terrorism these days... It was not a mistake that there was a huge security stand-down on September 11 last year... I am SOLO. I will continue to disrupt at the highest levels.

Alas in 2002 the wheels fell off the wagon. McKinnon was tracked down by the UK's National High Tech Crime Unit where he was promptly arrested and charged under the Computer Misuse Act. The case wasn’t followed up by the Crown Prosecution Service however, and so McKinnon was slapped on the wrists and sent on his merry way.

Despite the fact that the British Government was finished with McKinnon the American's weren't, and later that year he was indicted by the US and proceedings to extradite Gary started. According to our cousins across the pond McKinnon is responsible for "The Greatest Military Hack of All Time" and has caused approximately $700,000 worth of damage on various networks. Since the indictment the US Government has vigorously pursued McKinnon, and thanks to various orders submitted to the courts Gary now has to sign in at a local police station every morning and has been banned from any form of internet access. If McKinnon is extradited to America and found guilty he could face up to 70 years in prison.

The thing is that it all seems a bit over the top. McKinnon freely admits to trying to access Military computers but states that he was only ever able to access unsecured connections, using software that could be legally purchased online. Claims by the US Government that he had obtained sensitive information that could be passed on to America's enemies has been flatly denied my McKinnon. In fact McKinnon declares that despite hacking pretty much every day for a couple of years he has got absolutely nothing to show for it. No documents stamped with a large "TOP SECRET" on the front. No co-ordinates as to where the bodies are buried. No photographs of the third gunmen on the grassy gnoll. Nothing. Partly because, as previously mentioned, McKinnon was usually so stoned that even if he did find something controversial he would forget to save it anyway. According to Gary, the label of "Greatest military hack of all time" and the $700,000 figure are simply attempts to hide the military's embarrassment, painting McKinnon as some sort of evil genius rather than the "bumbling computer nerd" he professes to be.



And really it does appear as if McKinnon may have a point. I mean bare in mind that in the seven long years since he was first apprehended, there has been no public definition of either the type of classified information he is alleged to have obtained, nor an explanation of how exactly he caused enough chaos to rack up a $700,000 bill. Maybe the apparent over reaction means that the US government is hiding something after all?

So what of McKinnon's original goal to do "research" on the UFO phenomenon. Well according to an interview he did with The Guardian Newspaper, Gary found this:

"I found a list of officers' names under the heading 'Non-Terrestrial Officers'. I looked it up and it's nowhere. It doesn't mean little green men. What I think it means is not earth-based. I found a list of 'fleet-to-fleet transfers', and a list of ship names. I looked them up. They weren't US navy ships. What I saw made me believe they have some kind of spaceship, off-planet."

(Gee Note: Sadly McKinnon was too baked at the time to remember any of the names off either list. See now, that's the downside of weed that nobody tells you about. I mean the powers that be are always trying to convince Joe Public that drugs are bad for you, but they always manage to do it in the most laughable fashion. Like those "Winner's Don't Use Drugs" slogans that used to appear in video games. Nobody ever took them seriously. I mean sure winner's don't use drugs. Unless of course your name happens to Barry Bonds. In which case you can take a boat load of steroids, become the all time home run record holder, and get paid ridiculous amounts of money in the process. Winner's don't use drugs. Give me a break. Now if you had an advertising campaign that went "Dude! Do you remember that time when something amazing happened? No? That's because you were mashed, man." I reckon it would be ten times more effective. Wanna remember stuff in the morning? Yeah? Well in that case stay the f*** away from the ganja.)

According to another interview with "Wired" magazine McKinnon also found:

"A NASA photographic expert said that there was a Building 8 at Johnson Space Centre where they regularly airbrushed out images of UFOs from the high-resolution satellite imaging. I logged on to NASA and was able to access this department. They had huge, high-resolution images stored in their picture files. They had filtered and unfiltered, or processed and unprocessed, files.

My dialup 56K connection was very slow trying to download one of these picture files. As this was happening, I had remote control of their desktop, and by adjusting it to 4-bit colour and low screen resolution, I was able to briefly see one of these pictures. It was a silvery, cigar-shaped object with geodesic spheres on either side. There were no visible seams or riveting. There was no reference to the size of the object and the picture was taken presumably by a satellite looking down on it. The object didn't look manmade or anything like what we have created. Because I was using a Java application, I could only get a screenshot of the picture -- it did not go into my temporary internet files. At my crowning moment, someone at NASA discovered what I was doing and I was disconnected."




Including the above mentioned examples of two lists that may or may not have been important, and a photograph of something that could well have been a blimp, McKinnon also admits to discovering a bunch of "inspirational" training videos for Special Forces, as well as once clicking the wrong button and accidentally deleting a couple of Government files. And, er, that's about it.

In October 2008 McKinnon's lawyers lost their fight against extradition and it only seemed a matter of time before our boy would be headed across the waters. However judges ruled that Gary's recently diagnosed Asperger's syndrome hadn't been taken in to full account and so on June 9th this year a decision was made for an appeal hearing to take place on July 14th.

And this is why Gary's life story would be perfect for a biopic. Because however it goes, whether McKinnon is carted off to the land of the free, sentenced to serve time here, or simply let off altogether, you have to admit that it will have one hell of a final act.

Especially if it turns out that aliens do exist.

And so the global economic crisis claims it's latest victim, breaking the hearts of millions - thousands - hundreds - five Australian women in the process.

I'm in a funny mood today. I don't know why. Maybe it's because there was guest column written by yours truly published on Generation Minus One yesterday. Maybe it's because I just read an article in this weeks Jennifer Anniston Weekly National Enquirer telling me that George Clooney has hired a pet psychic to contact his dead pig (Gee Note: Why did George Clooney have a pet pig? I mean the guy's loaded. If he wants an unusual pet he should get a Giraffe or something. That would be a great ice-breaker in a singles bar. "Hi I'm George Clooney. Would you like to come back to my place and see my Giraffe?"). Maybe it's because earlier on I walked past a man who was beating a bush with a stick for no apparent reason.

Or maybe it's because I've spent the last three nights watching consecutive episodes of "Beyond with James Van Praagh".

For those not familiar with "Beyond" it's a daytime television show that originally ran between 2002 and 2003. Since then it has been endlessly replayed on low budget cable TV channels the world over. It's hosted by Van Praagh (Gee Note: If you say his last name out loud it sounds a bit like the tiger impression I do when I think no-one else is around), a psychic who looks like the illegitimate love child of Nintendo's Mario and Rock 'n' Roll legend Little Richard. The programme takes the standard format for all medium shows where Van Praagh conducts readings for a live audience combined with a handful of pre-chosen guests.

What got me hooked on the programme was the first of those pre-chosen guest segments I saw. A warring family consisting of two sisters and their step mother hoped to contact the deceased patriarch of their motley crew in order to stop the feuding. Which isn't very interesting. What is interesting is that Daddy dearest met his demise at the hands, or fins I guess, of a whale (Gee Note: After which his family sued the ass off of SeaWorld. Nah I'm just kidding. The dude was a fisherman or something).

Anyway it turns out that despite the best efforts of James and "Dad", the family fight wasn't settled. Neither was it explained how exactly he managed to come a cropper by a large sea faring mammal. Still it did lead to the sisters turning on the step mother during the post reading interview so I guess it wasn't a total loss entertainment wise.

Despite this inauspicious start to his television career it may surprise you to learn that Van Praagh is currently kind of a big deal in the small screen world. And it's all thanks to a show called Ghost Whisperer. A drama dealing with the everyday life of your average medium, it currently airs on the CBS network and is gearing up for it's fifth season this coming September. Van Praagh was heavily involved in the development of the show and is credited as it's executive producer.

Sadly, despite the fact that it's all kinds of woovy bezerk paranormal, I find it hard to like Ghost Whisperer. It's all a bit too cosy for my liking. I don't know, I guess I like my television psychics to be tormented and twitchy, not bright and bubbly.

Still on the upside it does have the insanely gorgeous Jennifer Love Hewitt (Gee Note: Or as she is known, the future ex Mrs. Davies) as it's star. Now THERE is a woman who has it all. She's good looking, charming, talented, and is a member of a satanic cult that goes around planting electronic devices in to people's brains in order to control their thoughts and movements. What's not to love?




What? Oh, the satanic cult thing. Right.

Meet Diana Napolis. Born in 1955 in La Mesa, California she lives in San Diego where she worked as child protection worker, holding that position until 1996. It was around that time she started posting allegations of satanic ritual abuse - or SRA for short - online under the pseudonym "Curio". Now SRA became exceedingly prominent in the 1980's, largely due to media sensationalism when reporting child abuse cases. The idea was that in every city and town across the United States, a large underground movement that worshipped the Devil was simply itching to get it's hands on your child. A panic spread through American suburbs like a bush fire, with parents asking themselves questions such as "Are we sure we want to let our little Jimmy spend the night at his friends house? I mean really, how well do we know the Thompsons?". The religious right, unable to resist the temptation to cause mass hysteria, jumped all over it and it was heavily pushed as the next big thing to fear. (Gee Note: You know like Bird Flu. Which didn't turn out to be all that bad. Or Swine Flu. Which didn't turn out to be all that bad. Or British Beef. Which… well you can see where this is going).

Alas by the time the mid 90's rolled around the wheels had fallen off the SRA bandwagon. After extensive research, law enforcement experts and psychologists all pretty much agreed that Satanic cults of such a massive scale simply didn't exist. Phew, sighed America, we can now sleep safely at night.

Diana Napolis never gave up the cause however, and became convinced that something evil was going on behind closed doors. She set her sights on various prominent local figures, as well as those who had been outspoken against SRA in the media. Folks like Carol Hopkins, a local school administrator who had criticised social workers for taking children out of their homes for no reason. Or Elizabeth Loftus, a psychology professor who had suggested that leading questions from investigators could have planted false memories in younger victims. Napolis claimed that these and others were part of a vicious conspiracy to hide the truth about SRA from the public at large. She even went as far as to call Hopkins a member of the Illuminati (Gee Note: You know if you are a member of the Illuminati and all you've got from it is a "School Administrator" position then, um, maybe you might want to think about joining another group. You know one that isn't run by 9 ft tall shape shifting alien lizards. The Masons perhaps? I mean outside of that business with Jack the Ripper, they seem like an ok bunch of guys). According to Napolis, it was people like these that had caused any number of children to be used for sick and twisted activities.

This lasted until the year 2000 when Napolis, who in an effort to conceal her identity had been using public computers and libraries with which to submit her accusations, was caught in the act by San Diego State University Security using one of their online labs. Despite a mountain of libellous claims against her name, amazingly no charges were filed against Napolis. The groups and individuals targeted felt a lot safer knowing that their harasser was a bonkers middle aged woman however.

And here's where it gets fascinating.

In October 2001 Oscar winning movie maker and Hollywood power player Steven Spielberg filed an injunction against a stalker. This individual had been making unsolicited phone calls to Spielberg claiming that he was the leader of a Satanic cult that had it's HQ in his own basement. This person also claimed that they had been abducted by Spielberg and had a microchip implanted in their brain called "Soulcatcher" which was used to control her thoughts and bodily functions. Spielberg, quite understandably freaked out by all of this, went to court and got a restraining order against the stalker preventing them from coming within 150 meters of him or his family. Upon the conclusion of the judges decision his lawyer read out a statement on behalf of Spielberg:

"To state the obvious, I am not involved with any form of manipulating [the stalker's] mind or body through remote technology or otherwise." (Gee Note: Notice he didn't deny being a member of an evil Satanic cult? Hey, I'm just saying. Perhaps being too busy sacrificing goats and what not is the reason the dude hasn't made a decent movie for the past 15 years).

"But who was this mystery stalker?" I hear you cry. Well, in a twist I'm pretty sure none of you will have seen coming, her name is… Diana Napolis.

I know. I'll give you a minute to get your breath back.

Probably thinking that she had bitten off more than she could chew with the powerful and bearded Spielberg, Napolis switched her attack to the less powerful but infinitely better looking Jennifer Love Hewitt. Thinking that Hewitt had in some way also been involved with embedding a piece of hi-tec kit in her cranium, she decided that a more personal touch was required. Therefore when in July 2002 Hewitt was scheduled for a radio interview in San Diego, Napolis had the good sense to greet her outside with a "verbal confrontation". A scuffle then broke out between Napolis and Hewitt's mother Pat (Gee Note: I don't what I like best. That Jennifer takes her mum to interviews with her or that my future mother-in-law is willing to throw down at the drop of a hat).

Fast forward a couple of months to the night of the Grammy Awards. As Jennifer was entering the theatre a frantic Napolis was in the crowd shouting "Murderer! Killer! Skankhole, you are killing me!" (Gee Note: They must have been wearing the same dress. Ooooh. Awkward).



Finally things came to a head in October. Napolis sent an email to the webmaster of a Jennifer Love Hewitt internet fan site. The webmaster, a guy name Jim Allen Max, opened his inbox to find a “personal note” to Hewitt that read "I plan to kill you at the first opportunity to do so and I hope you die a torturous death.”. She then addressed Max directly with a charming "Jim, I'm quite serious, this is really a death threat. I want you to report it to the police or FBI because this is an Internet crime. I plan on firing a gun at her heart and not missing. The reason for that is she is torturing me. I am in extreme physical pain."

Now Max, being an astute sort of chap, took one look at this and promptly called the FBI. The FBI, being astute sorts of chaps, took one look at this and promptly went “Holy shit! This lady’s crazy!”. And so they arrested her. Napolis was charged with six felonies relating to the harassment of Hewitt. However thinking that she was as nutty as a fruitcake, the judge decided to confine Napolis to Patton State Hospital until she was deemed mentally competent to stand trial.

In what, quite frankly, is a bizarre decision Patton State concluded after five months that while Napolis was barking, she was also fit enough for the court. After entering a guilty plea Napolis was given five years probation, and was also ordered to keep taking her medication. Oh and to stay off the internet.

In a completely unrelated note. Here’s an extract from Diana Napolis’s blog.

Updated June 12 2009

DUE TO EVENTS WHICH HAVE OCCURRED, I PLAN ON FILING A LAWSUIT AGAINST DR. PHIL SHAVER; CHRISTOPHER BARDEN J.D., DR. ELIZABETH LOFTUS, CAROL HOPKINS, DAVID HOPKINS, MICHAEL AQUINO, AND THE TEMPLE OF SET. NEW INFORMATION ABOUT JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT HAS BEEN ADDED.

(Gee Note: Update - Between the time it took to start and finish writing this post the above section was removed from Napolis website. Which makes me very glad I took the time to copy and paste it. Go me.)

I was placed in an illegal Cybertronics program which included experiments in Robotization, Computer-Brain Interface, Artificial Intelligence, and Virtual Reality. After I was used as a science project without my consent, this same technology was used to take the interior of my body apart in an experiment to see if these Quantum-computers could demanifest natural bodily codes or barriers, including the astral body. On several occasions Locklin placed me in a “field” of some type for purposes of harassment which caused my spine and jaw to move back and forth in a fluid motion. There were several successful attempts to destroy my mind. Afterwards they subliminally progamed my subconscious and superconscious with a word association program so that I would think the opposite of my intention. For instance, when I intended to think a word like “go,” it would come out as "stop".