This year saw the return to my hometown of the Stars of Time science fiction convention. The convention started several years ago by the owners of a toy/memorabilia shop in town which has since closed. In its first few years it always saw a happy gaggle of geeks – or a happy google of geeks? – and a regular appearance of UK sci-fi con tourers like David “Darth Vader” Prowse and Colin “Doctor Who” Baker.

However, the convention had been on a slight hiatus for a few years, so it was good to walk through town one morning and see a banner proclaiming “Stars of Time – Saturday 1st May 2010 – Winter Gardens”.

For a while I was unsure of whether to go to the event, as although I really wanted to get some autographs and look around the dealers room, I felt that I was spoilt from last year and didn’t want to be a grouch about it.

In the end I worked out that it would be at least interesting and good to support events happening locally. I knew that there was a chance to blow some money to find some nostalgic pieces in the dealers room and could get autographs from the likes of Colin Baker, Kenny “R2D2″ Baker and Jeremy “Boba Fett” Bulloch.

I had wanted to use my video sunglasses, but I found as soon as I arrived that they actually had run out of charge – I am rather frustrated by how hard those glasses are to operate. So, I was rather limited to what I could do with hands full and only my normal camera on me.

For a glimpse around the convention check out the the video I posted on YouTube, and then Read More for a bit more of my ramblings and my new claim to fame.

So, my Con Story begins on the Saturday morning, where after a week of my brother deciding whether or not we should bother with the con, I made up my mind to head on out and at least kill a few hours. I ended up killing the day. I also ended up nearly killing a celebrity, but more on that in a bit. I was rather lucky to bump in to an old friend, fellow geek and my former Comic Book Dealer, Dave, and his two sons (and infant granddaughter, and later his son’s partner).

We met up near the entrance to the Winter Gardens hall, just opposite where shiny Stormtroopers posed alongside the famous Lotus Esprit from James Bond. I still kick myself that I didn’t take that photo.

It was quite good having someone to tour the con with, especially when you don’t have to worry about stopping at a dealer table to check out old toys because they’ve already spotted it and directed you over.

Convention Loot

The Dealers Room was bustling with activity and choice ranges from toys and figures to serious memorabilia and the odd stop off to posters and DVDs. There was also a great selection of metal sculptures from various sci-fi series’, the Predator was incredibly beautiful but there was also a brilliant Gremlin that I loved.

While Dave was on a scout out for his own interests, I found a nice selection of old Thundercats and He-Man figures amongst the prevailing masses of Star Wars and Doctor Who related merchandise – they also had a load of old Turtles stuff, but given my limited budget, I knew I had to be discerning. I was fairly careful in my choices of souvenirs, a lot of the figures were severely lacking in accessories which for He-Man figures comes close to them being nearly completely featureless. I ended up walking away with Thundercats’ Tygra (sadly there was no Wilykit, Cheetara or Bengali) and from Masters of the Universe Buzz-Off (sans wings), Clawful (sans armour and club) and Mantena.

I also found a very cheap table with cut price DVDs, which was quite rare seeing as other tables were changing rather stupidly high amounts for recent release DVDs that were already being sold cut price in supermarkets. Using my savvy of being a cheap fisted bastard towards myself, I managed to only buy myself the Robocop Trilogy (only £5) and the complete first series of Inhumanoids (only £4 and definite blog fodder).

Convention Cosplayers

Wandering around the con was great. As you may remember, I love cosplay, and seeing so many people dressed up and playing the part – both young and old – filled me with a deep glee. There’s several people that I wish I’d had the guts to get a photo with or from, who were absolutely amazing.

A few of my top choices, who if they ever read this need to send me photos to publish: the Amy Pond in police gear; the kid dressed as the dead spaceman from the episode of Dr Who in the library; the Scarecrow from Family of Blood; the most amazing Tennant lookalike (you can see him in the corner of a photo).

My altogether favourites from the con though were the Royal Imperial Guardsmen (the red hood) and the old school Cyberman.

I wish I’d had time to prepare a costume, but those are the breaks. Hopefully I’ll be in a better position the next time around.

There were also some wonderful toys around, including a radio controlled Star Wars droid unit and several different styles of Daleks – one of which was my absolute love, the Bronze/Brass almost steampunkish Dalek which you’ll see several photos of.

One photo I really wanted to get as soon as I saw the Stormtroopers with the droid was to get one with a Dalek. It wasn’t until much later, as I was waiting for Dave and chilling out by an empty Dalek shell that the Stormtrooper trio wandered by. They paused close to where I was and I tapped one on the armour and asked if they’d pose, they nodded and assumed a shooting position perfectly levelled with the Dalek. Several other people got in on the act, taking photos thanks to this awesome cosplayer, when they finished they gave a thumbs up and wandered off. It wasn’t until later that I realised I was in video mode and not camera, but still, I am so happy to have seen that.

Convention Guests

The convention had a few guests tightly packed in to the first room. If there was any real problem with the con it was down to poor space management, stalls had too much space behind them narrowing aisles and the gues hall was too tightly packed at times.

I really wanted to see Bulloch and the Bakers – which sounds like a soft rock group from the late 70s/early 80s, but also in attendance was Britt Eckland, Shirley Eaton, Caroline Munro, and Katy Manning. Had it not been that everyone was charging about £15 an autograph, I would have gone full pelt.

It took some prompting by Dave for me to steal the courage to ask for autographs. First from Jeremy Bulloch, who was really nice and down to Earth, he made time to chat to everyone around him even if only briefly, I then went over to where Colin Baker was – and stopped a few feet short so as not to interrupt as he was using his iPhone. He signed a photo for me and we spoke about his editorial section on a website, which was nice. Then, I went and almost killed Kenny Baker.

In fairness, it wasn’t like I grabbed him by the throat and started to throttle him mercilessly while he dangled helpless several feet from the ground. I just walked up to the table and squeaked a quiet hello and asked if I could have an autograph, handed my money over, he took a sip of coffee and then started coughing violently and wheezing in front of me.

Now, I need to point out, I’m used to people sipping something and coughing, but when it’s continuous for about five minutes (which feels like an hour), and results in the person going red, tearing up and getting bloodshot eyes and gasping for air, then the thought of “must have gone down the wrong hole” changes to “OMG, I’ve killed Artoo! In a Convention! Surrounded by Geeks!” and the realisation “The Internet Is Going To KILL ME!!!”

Eventually, reality snapped back and Baker didn’t go the way of Admiral Motti to my Force hands-free strangulation, but for a while I was more than a little stunned. Clutching my signed photo, I wandered away like the survivor of a nuclear holocaust.

Backstage

After the con, before doing our final tour of duty, we gathered in a nearby cafe and settled down. We still had a nice view as Daleks roamed the back halls of the centre. We decided to do a trip back when Dave’s son’s partner pointed out a small side hallway where the disassembled body of a Dalek was resting. We happily took a few shots of the guts of a Dalek.

For those not from the UK, and indeed a vast proportion of the UK who are tabloid readers or didn’t pay attention in class (which given the numerous conversations I’ve had recently is a staggering number), I do feel the need to point out something that might come as a surprise: we are not voting for a Prime Minister.

This may come as a surprise to those who are used to an electoral system where you vote for central government directly, but it comes more of a surprise to people who expect on election day to see the leaders of the political party on their ballot sheet.

Some of you may recall that I posted a brief overview of Government in my entry Ministers in the UK – not just toffs and princlies (April 2008). Well, the General Election is used to vote for the Member of Parliament for your specific area (constituency), each MP is given a seat in the House of Commons and the division of seats is what determines who is the ruling party (or parties, in the event of a Hung Parliament where coalition is needed).

It’s actually rather shocking how many people I know who can’t name at least two candidates standing for MP in this constituency, or even who our current MP is. It isn’t that we don’t have an active MP, but that people just don’t find a reason to know. People seem to concern themselves with the National Picture, something for which we have very little effect upon.

If you consider that the largest constituency in the UK could vote unanimously on one candidate in full support of the party behind them, but the end result would be one seat, a set fraction of Parliament.

We’re also prompted to vote on local issues, because that is really all a local MP can affect, but then there’s very rarely a correlation between the party we’d trust to look after our local community and those we want running the national economy.

We also don’t get to vote on laws, and I put this in solely for those few who mentioned the Propositions that get tagged on to US elections. I rather like the idea of the public vote on legal issues, even if completely ignored by policy makers. I don’t believe the people should be the determining factor – I’ve seen some of the Prop’s that got passed stateside – but if it was a factor or could be used to garner support and awareness, I’m for it.

The Liberal Democrats have for some considerable time wanted to instigate electoral reform, including a form of proportional representation – which, as Wikipedia helpfully puts it, is aimed at securing a close match between the percentage of votes that groups of candidates obtain in elections, and the percentage of seats they receive.

Personally, I’d like to be able to hold two votes in an election, a local representation vote to elect my local MP and a proportional representation vote to elect the governing party.

As I said on Twitter recently, it feels like the election in the UK is going the way of hairstyles. You have a choice of parting your hair on the left or right (depending on which of the current two major parties you prefer), having a combover (voting the LibDem, using the fresh alive follicles to provide enough cover) or skinhead (scary thought, but there’s a likelihood we may see the BNP win seats this year). I kinda want ‘bed head’ by this point.

You see there are plenty of parties in the UK elections, many very well established and several hundred independents, all with their own policies and manifestos. here are some examples to help you:

• Labour – The current Government. Traditionally representing Working Classes until they actual got power and became New Labour and changed from socialists to socialites under Tony Blair. Compare to the way the senate gave power to a Chancellor from Naboo who then changed a Republic Senate into a Galactic Empire. Then Blair left and left Gordon Brown in charge.

• Conservatives – The current Opposition (this being basically the official runner-up). Traditionally representing the Middle Classes and London taxi drivers who wear thick gold chains around their neck. They seem to have softened since the Thatcher era, with a soft-spoken leader of the party who whenever you seem him feel a sense of reassurance that whatever policies he may put forward you could probably take him down easily in a barfight.
• Liberal Democrats – For eons the LibDems have existed as the comic relief for the electoral process, always coming in third place and providing a foil. Frequently managing to squirrel seats and hamper plots. Something, somewhere changed that though – personally I believe it was when they made Charles Kennedy party leader. Sadly they later sacked him for being far too interesting and likable, they weren’t ready for that big a step – and currently the LibDems actually look like they might gain quite a bit of influence. Some pundits are even saying that they could ‘win’ with a Hung Parliament. Compare this to TVTrope’s The Scrappy.
• Green – The environmentalist party, if they join a Hung Parliament I am hoping that in the first meeting of the House of Commons to hear the following:
  “EARTH!”
  “FIRE!”
  “WIND!”
  “WATER!”
  “HEART!”
  “Go Planet!”
  “By your powers combined, I am Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs!”

• Official Monster Raving Loony Party – Yes, it’s a proper party that has won local elections before and it has had ‘proper’ policies, such as: Refusing to sign up to the euro, but inviting the rest of Europe to join the british pound; Drivers can go straight over a roundabout when there’s no traffic coming “to make driving through Milton Keynes more fun”; Traffic cops “too stupid” for normal police work to be retrained as vicars; Withdrawal of MPs’ expenses allowance to “in future be distributed to the poor and needy so that they can waste it instead”; The introduction of a 99p coin to “save on change”.
• British National Party (BNP) – Oi, immig’ants owt. Comin’ over here doing our jobs…on time…for an agreed reasonable price…how dare you!
• UK Independence Party (UKIP) – Oi, us owt. A party dedicated to getting us out of Europe.

As you can see, with so many parties and the system so broken apart for representation in Parliament it is very hard to seize control in the UK through a democratic process – it is also not within the British mindset to hold a bloody political coup, in the mad days of Northern Rock’s banking collapse people furiously queued to withdraw their money and the only violent projectiles ever aimed at our MPs tend to have first exited a chickens behind.

I’m hoping it’s not impossible though, because I want to be elected to power. I have a manifesto with policies, I have a vision and I reckon I could free up a few hours a week to run the country as the tyrannical Primary Malevolent Benevolence.

So, look over the page for my policies and remember to vote!

Just after Easter last year – yes, almost a year back now – Amy from over here (and obviously the X-Entertainment following) sent the second Ominous Box from the States. This box contained all manner of goodies and treats, each individually wrapped in copious amounts of Sesame Street gift wrap.

As it is nearing Easter once more it only seemed fitting that my first ‘defeating procrastination’ post should be about Ominous Box II and its contents. You may recall that I covered some of the stuff in the post Ominous Box 2?! back in July, which included some YouTube vloggery, but now it’s actually experiment time!

Book o’ Quotes

I love quotes. Seriously, I love being able to find those short one or two sentences said by someone that so succintly summarises a feeling or event, the kinds of quotes that can amuse, inspire or emotionally affect you. I have about a dozen themed quote books and dictionaries of quotations, as well as my own Quotefile that someday I will put online to be shared for amusement. I suppose it could be in part why I love Criminal Minds, in addition to great cast and characters, enthralling storylines, mental disorders and violent crime, they also feature great quotes.

I’m not sure how Amy knew about my quote love, but she included a book of quotes which her accompanying note alluded to me needing cheering up. I know I can be morose at times, hard to read other times and manic on occassion, so no doubt this will come in hand.

There are some wonderful and inspiring quotes in the book and it is a truly great repositry.

Easter Stickers

Little pictures of bunnehs and duckies that adhere to surfaces, is there anything cuter in the world? Well, maybe little bunnehs and duckies that can be placed on velcro walls for easy storage, and then removed for snuggles. Sort of an Emergency Cuddle Zone, with cushioned floor and detachable wall fuzzies, and a regular shipment of Kittens in a Box.

Optimus Prime Mini-Kite

I haven’t tested the kite out yet, mainly because my kite flying experiences are comparative to those of Charlie Brown. Whenever I try to fly a kite, it drags on the ground until it’s torn apart from twigs and stones like condemned prisoner being drawn behind a horse. On the rare occasions I can get it up – the kite that is – it has a habit of finding something to snag on to, if we’re on a deserted beach in the middle of nowhere, it’ll pull a palm tree out of Hammerspace just to snag itself.

Egg Painting Kits

Unlike the real Easter Bunnies who lay pre-decorated shells – a result of their bizarre cultish breeding habits and psychotropic mushroom use, which basically leaves the female bunnies with a tie-dying womb and a conception that is less teachers aid video and more Hunter S. Thompson trip – Americans seem to enjoy taking time with children to apply paints and stickers to hens egg. Sadly, I didn’t buy any eggs, so I’ll have to try this another time.

The kit does seem pretty good though, with paints and brushes and even egg holders included.

Easter Bunny Growing Pet

A bunneh from an egg, the first homebrewing method of genetic engineering. I was all prepped and ready, with a bowl of water beside me, I dropped the egg in the water. Sadly, it does take 3-5 days for the egg to hatch, so we’ll have to come back to it later.

It is slightly amusing that there’s a warning label not to swallow it. Not a warning to parents that there’s a choking hazard, but a warning to people old enough to read and comprehend. No wonder Kinder Eggs are banned in the US.

The egg hatching actually took a week to finish completely, and I took a few shots throughout:
21 March

22 March

23 March

27 March

Candy Spinner

How best to describe this? Actually, the best way to describe this has already been considered awkward and embarrassing, but here goes: a battery operated device with a rabbits head at the top that when switched on lights up and vibrates. Yeah.

Actually, what happens is that there is a bulb at the top with a two-sided disc featuring a duck on one side and a rabbit on the other, around the side of the disk are a number of small LED bulbs. When you press the button on the side, the disk spins and the LEDs light up, but because of the motor inside the whole thing shakes. But honestly, given that, what would you expect me to say about it?

The spinner also contains ‘tart candy disks’ inside, and although they had a very tart immediate taste, once it subsided there was no taste anywhere to be found. But by god was the first moment of tongue touching tart, it was like licking a 9V battery. Mmm.

I couldn’t not put the three Bugs/Daffy Hunting Season Trilogy here when talikng about this little thing though.

Wonka Golden Egg

I wasn’t sure what to expect with the Wonka egg, because it could have been anything from solid chocolate to fondant or caramel, but for that matter it could have contained dog meat or crickets. I knew it was unlikely to have the latter, but given both Wilder’s and Depp’s portrayal of the confectioner I wouldn’t have deemed it impossible as an officially licensed product.

As it happens, the egg was a solid wall of Nestle chocolate – not that damnable Hershey’s crock – and a thin lick of caramel against the inside wall. It was scrumdiddliumpcious.

Baby Ruth

Hey, you guuuuuys! Ok, I really couldn’t say about the Baby Ruth without a Goonies reference. You see the Baby Ruth doesn’t exist in the UK, it’s another one of those peanutty candies that just never make it over here, but that doesn’t stop us from knowing of its existence, even if no-one would be able to tell you what it is. One of the main reasons I think so many people know is from watching The Goonies, where the Baby Ruth was probably the ultimate tipping point – it’s the redeeming Anakin moment or the Dhalsim in collapsing building.

Amy had sent through a Baby Ruth baseball that contained two funsize candy bars and I honestly had no idea what to expect. Opening the candy though, it became apparent that it was a nutty little number. Lumps and bumps all over.

My god it was delicious though, with such soft nougat and chewy peanuts and chocolate that actually tasted like chocolate.

Candy Popsicle

I haven’t actually tried it, but it seems like a form of Chupa-chup or Push-pop solid candy with a strawberry flavour. It’s leading gimmick though seems to be that you can split it in half to share, which is nice in a Barney sort of way.

Jaws Jelly Beans

Ok, so it isn’t actually a licensed Jaws product, but the name seems to fit. A plastic egg with a shark face decal and inside was a bag of teeny jelly beans. The jelly beans were surprising, they smelt strongly of the overly scented cheap candy shop in the local knock-off market, really strong and sweet but entirely generic. Strangely though, the jelly beans tasted like proper ‘gourmet’ beans, especially the Cherry red ones. Nom nom nom.

Candy Carrot Container

Yay, now you can look like you are eating healthy while actually stocking up on generic gum. I actually love this container just for the cheesy Easter tie in, one step removed from the Easter Bunny but close enough that you still ‘get it’. I can see the advertisments where the Bunny pulls them out of his vegetable garden and carrying them away. Unless the Easter Bunny is Georgia, then we alllll know what happens to the carrot.

Light Up Candy Pacifier

For some reason I thought this was a gummy when I first saw it, but it is the normail solid candy. A lovely red happy bunny with facial features that lights up when you press a button on the pacifiers hilt. I’m assuming it is called a hilt, maybe it’s a handle? Hilt or handle, the whole thing lights up. It’s not the best tasting, a little sour and a ‘manufactured’ after taste, but the level of detail is nice and it does light up!

Wind-up Gum Crapping Chicken

An actual Hubba Bubba gum laying hen that walks around. The process is simple, you load the egg-shaped gum in to the hen by twisting it’s head off and then slowly putting a maximum of five eggs inside, you wind it up and it walks around with eggs flicking out its back.

There are a few drawbacks though. The first is obvious, no-one is really patient enough to individually load each piece when the bag is open and contains a lot more than five pieces. The second is that the gum flings out and bounces and rolls, kids would have to be fast to make the ‘five second rule’ of food recovery.

Oh, and the gum is solid after a year. Crrrrunch.

Marshmallow Creatures

This was the big experiment. How well would marshmallow animals be after a year? The hardest part to answer for that was comparitavely, because I hadn’t tasted what they were like before and so couldn’t tell what they were meant to be like. Undaunted, I picked up one of the pieces and bit in. The mallow was thick and chewy, like a Flump marshmallow and tasted pretty good, it tasted ‘yellow’ which was sort of like vanilla and banana, but only the type of vanilla and banana that doesn’t exist naturally.

Still, yummy and chewy.

In summary:

Thank you, Amy, for a lovely gift. I’m sorry it took a while to cover it all, but I really wanted to dedicate time to it in proper depth.

(Revision: 19 June 2010. Found pictures of the Egg Hatching, photos added to main section)

One key difference though is how the organisers of scout troops utilise their slave labour force to bring in maximum profit. In the UK there was a tradition of doing odd jobs, including the ‘washing an old person’ job, these have been phased out to a minimal amount of jobs – something which saddens me because I was quite looking forward to being a pensioner getting sponged down. In the US, however, they’ve had a money-making scheme that has become a worldwide icon: Girl Scout Cookies.

As a kid, I’d heard about these cookies but didn’t really know anything about them. I grew up seeing a few cartoons, tv shows and comic strips that made humourous stabs at selling cookies and gags about trying to avoid buying the cookies or trying to get a prize for selling the most. The innocence value of kids going door-to-door to sell their wares without fear of mugging, abduction or mutilation.

This past week I had a very pleasant surprise from our friend Dan and his wife, Michelle, who sent me through another Ominous Box. Inside the box was an assortment of genuine, authentic Girl Scouts of America cookies and Kool-aid singles.

The three sets of cookies that Dan sent through were: Thin Mints, which I have heard so many awesome things about that I was so happy to see them in the box; Tagalong Peanut Butter Patties, which interested me because I’m always surprised how much peanut butter gets used in the States, and; Samoas, which looked like coconut rings.

I had intended to get through all the Ominous Boxes and seasonal candy in order before doing anything new, but our good friend FungusMungus pointed out that March 12th was the birthday of the Girl Scouts of America and with such a tenuous link I knew it would be foolhardy to miss out. So, I decided a prompt review was in order.

Thin Mints

The first pack was a great start to the whole experiment. I’d heard jokes about the Girl Scouts cookies being overpriced and had thought that these packs were similar to some of the biscuit packs in the UK where packaging takes over the contents and everything is laid out to fit the least amount of food in the largest area, but happily there was a plentiful amount of cookies.

The cookies themselves were delicious, earning the reputation that preceded them. The thing that really struck me was about how much they tasted like an old ‘delicacy’ from my school days, chocolate sponge and ‘green’ custard – with green being used in the same way that ‘purple’ is better applied to US ‘grape’ drinks. I was awash in happy school dinner memories.

Thin Mints are made of pure win.

Tagalong Peanut Butter Patties

Opening the pack, I almost gave a sad sigh as I saw the packaging and how the cookies had been arranged. Thin Mints were obviously either the exception or the deception. There was still a decent amount of cookies though, and they were still genuine Girl Scout cookies.

I didn’t quite know what to expect, I wondered if they’d be cookies made with peanut butter flavoured throughout or pure patties like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, but I found out as a rather pleasant surprise that the Tagalongs were actually peanut butter atop a small cookie and covered in chocolate. They were very tasty, although I couldn’t really taste the chocolate – not a new thing as american chocolate isn’t really that flavourful.

Samoas

This was an unusual one for me because the name didn’t really give that many hints at what might be included. I guessed from the look that I was going to be dealing with the equivalent to Coconut Rings and an in-depth check of the ingredients – which seemed more akin to the periodic table of elements – showed coconut, thus confirming my suspicions.

Samoas are basically cookies with a chocolate covered base with a sprinkling of cooked coconut and drizzled chocolate ontop. They were quite tasty and were the most lasting of all the cookies, because whereas the taste of Thin Mints can last up to half an hour, the bits of coconut can stay hidden in the mouth over many hours.

Overall, I’d have to list them in order of opening, because Thin Mints were my absolute favourite and they were closely followed by the Tagalongs, though the Samoas were a nice round-off to the mix. You can watch me reviewing them on my vlog and leave a comment on YouTube if you want:

So, question time for you peeps, and for all of you: What’s your favourite and least favourite Girl Scout cookie (or any cookie)? For the girls: Were you in the Girl Scouts (or similar)? Do you have any interesting memories or any merit badges? Do you still have your uniform? For the boys: Tell me I’m right about the uniforms? Were you in any Scout-y type groups as a kid?

I’ve mentioned before some of the things that bothered me as a child, and even into adulthood, that although not fears were enough to act as nightmare fuel over the years. Common fears are little to speak about, I’m not scared of spiders, but I find them creepy and don’t want them near me; in a similar vein, I’ve been stung before and therefore hate wasps, bees and flying ants. To the same token, I’d say I have common fears towards most creatures, including and actual to higher percentages, people.

Rational fears are tedious, I used to suffer from a fear of heights, which lowered to a fear of ‘unsupported heights’ and ‘falling’ and finally changed to just cases of vertigo. For this, I should be thankful to the practical aversion therapy I had when I lived in a fifth floor flat with no internal stairway and a broken down elevator that meant I had to use a rusting metal external fire escape each day to get in and out.

But there were things that bothered me growing up. I never really liked clowns, it isn’t really a fear, but they ‘bother’ me, and I can’t really give any reason why. I was also terrified of Freddy Krueger growing up, down to my loving, caring, nurturing older brothers sitting me down with them at the tender, innocent age of seven or eight to watch Nightmare on Elm Street Part 3: Dream Warriors – as an aside the puppet patient scene is jointly one of my favourite and most hated movie scenes of all time.

…and then, there are scarecrows. For scarecrows, I feel I can, if not justify, at least rationalise to some degree.

I grew up in a small village on the outskirts of a small town in an area that is bordered all around by some of the most steretypical farming counties in the whole of the UK, the counties of Somerset, Gloucestershire, Wiltshire and the Bristol area. It was an area where the next village over had a leading cider (and I mean real cider) manufacturer and every school morning, apple trucks rolled by wafting fermenting fruit odours intoxicatingly into the air. It was a village where they still had Morris Dancers attend the summer carnival. It was a village where the walk to school was often delayed by cows on the main roads. It was a village with it’s own tractor retailer. It was a village with real fields.

Some of these fields grew crops, usually very little in the way of crops as they served more as an allortment to the more common live stock grazing, but even when the crop was a bunch of dandelions that sprouted out of a cowpat, it warranted a scarecrow. At this young age, in this fairly rural village, I lived in a small bungalow with my parents, two older brothers and a changing cast of animals, and this small bungalow had a large back garden that neighboured a huge grazing field.

Occasionally in this huge grazing field, with its tall grasses that often hid rabbits, hares, foxes and, I’m sure, the occasional gremlin or land shark, you would find propped up a scarecrow somewhere. England’s weather is that when it is not raining, you can pretty much guarantee it is ‘blustery’. Wind would blow, waving the tall grasses and leading the scarecrows to sway.

There were other local scarecrows too, some even bordering on having a mythology to them had we, as children, been bothered to formulate a story for them to the same degree we had for ‘the deputy headteachers child stuck in stone pillars on the playground’ or the ‘bunkers under the playground that were both for storing PE equipment and locking away children’.

One key scarecrow resided on the hill far above the school playground, but still visible to us as we stood in the corner square of different coloured concrete that marked where the bunker was. The scarecrow was placed in an allotment on the hill, amongst rows of crops that from a distance never seemed to crow. Every now and then though, we’d look up to the hill and the scarecrow would be in a different position, and occasionally we would swear we say him moving around.

Now, rationality kicked in lated that there was a very small chance that the allotment owner took the scarecrow down while attending his crops, and then put him back up with little regard for continuity – or indeed picked him back up after cider louts knocked the bastard over.

Rationality is over-rated though, because in my mind and probably the mind of others, the thing that clicked in place was Worzel Gummidge. Worzel ‘Evil Incarnate’ Gummidge. A scarecrow who came to life, walked around and had plenty of adventurers for terrified children to watch because parents mistakenly believed that the silence of Post Traumatic Stress was the same as the awe we had when watching He-Man.

I’m sure I don’t need to explain how a scarecrow that comes to life on a weekly basis and scarecrows in your own neighbourhood that move in bad weather can disturb a child. I’d now like you to take a moment to picture the following in your head, a rainy night, then flashes of lightning illuminating in short bursts as wind blows everything around, including scarecrow limbs in the distance.

These days, scarecrows themselves don’t always bother me, for example a bonfire Guy before November 5th does little to me except make me critical of the level of attention and quality in the manufacture of said effigy, and indeed some scarecrows are amusing in their campy and retro nature, assuming the sort of ironic statement that most hipsters would give their right ipod earphone to achieve.

There are scarecrows that are creepy though, for these I don’t feel dread but a sort of morbid fascination that is just enough to send a shudder at times.

Quite often these are the scarecrows that will do the least to scare away crows – in fact they are often more sinister because of perched black birds. Sometimes, these are the scarecrows who aren’t propped up fully on the crucifix erected behind them to give them the traditional tortured pose, but have instead found some way to lop or collapse slightly, highlighting even more how they are bound in place.

Of course, the most successful sinister scarecrow is the one that makes you pause for just a second or two as you consider the possibility that inside the potato sack hood and straw stuffed rags, there might just be some helpless soul or disobeying child who has had to ‘have the devil taken from them’ by locals who find the height of technology to be pitchforks and flaming torches and have a subscription to “Witch Burning and Beastiality” magazine.

This may seem extreme, but in this area it would come as no surprise to find some people believe the events of The Wicker Man to be as useful gardening advice as any episode of Gardener’s Question Time. The fact that on the route further down south of this town there is a giant wicker statue in the shape of a man, with a torso you could fit people in, should perhaps set the tone of the area. The villages around here have ‘local pubs for local people’. I dare go back to some of the villages since I moved out of mine, in fear that I might be considered a ‘cityboy’ and chased from town under a chorus of baying hounds.

Scarecrows have achieved a place in popular culture though because of their nature, no doubt down to the phenomenom of Uncanny Valley, wherein they trigger some reaction in us because they look like humans but if we put across any human traits – in particular locomotion – then they are immediately ‘wrong’ to us. In some regards I wonder whether we chose more to use scarecrows as they bother us, more than the crows, with the thought of “well, it creeps me out, so those crows should be shitting bricks”.

The Scarecrow, for example, of Batman fame is a notorious example of the combination of fear and scarecrow imagery. Professor Jonathan Crane, a gangly-limbed fellow and psychology boffin, dresses up as a strawman and uses a gas to cause hallucinations of peoples fears. His long, spindly limbs stretches him out in the same disproportionate way as a lot of common scarecrows, and his clothes, commonly depicted as burlap hood and rags that could easily come from generations before, are close enough to any stereotypical effigy.

One feature that I feel I should call upon is from the recent Arkham Asylum game, where he has been given a very Freddy Krueger-esque glove with hypodermic needle fingers.

The Creeper from the Jeepers Creepers franchise, and in particular I refer to the very opening of Jeepers Creepers 2, plays greatly in to the horror of the notion of something that one assumes to be inanimate and innocent turning out to be rather sinister. Even if from the moment that it made it’s appearance, looking even more ragged and ghoulish than the others, it seemed inevitable what was going to happen and so early on. Its choice of victim makes it more sinister, reaffirming the feelings towards it, and the choice of surrounding, both familiarly rural, bright and open whilst also being desolute, isolated and lonesome.

I choose to disbelieve that I’m the only one who found the Oz denizens Jack, the pumpkin headed character from Return to Oz, and Scarecrow, from the Wizard of Oz, to be sinister creatures. A lot of people may agree on Jack, but not see the evil in Scarecrow, but consider for a moment any other instance where a lifeless figure has risen up and taken on a hunt for ‘brains’ and then contemplate how endearing this creature is. If he had indeed had strong enough jaws it would nat have surprised me if he had attempted to split young Doroth Gale’s head open like a cherry tomato and suck out the grey matter from inside.

And of course, I have to mention again Worzel Gummidge, the nightmare fuel of a fair portion of my childhood. Like all scarecrows in the world, Worzel had the ability to come to life, though most scarecrows preferred to keep this secret to themselves and to avoid attention, Worzel was mischievious. In fact, Worzel went beyond mischievious, he was arrogant, amoral and often malicious and petty. He could show some degrees of cruelty and almost stalker-like obsession to a living mannequin, Aunt Sally, who herself was rather spiteful.

Worzel was portrayed on TV by the Third Doctor, Jon Pertwee, who affected a rather disturbing voice for the role that often featured strange inflections and a language known as Worzel-ese. The make-up for the character was muddy, warty and had straw sticking out from all over. Frequent visual gags involved body parts detaching, and Worzels ability to utilise his ‘spare heads’. This was viewed as good old fashioned fun for children and was regular morning television as I grew up.

And so, that brings us to the present day, or more to the point the past weekend. Those of you who have followed my vlogs might have seen the upload I did late yesterday, but for those that haven’t seen my YouTube channel, I went to the village that directly neighbours this town, in that way it would be considered the suburbs and my own home village the far outskirts, but the village was celebrating its annual Scarecrow Festival.

Scattered around the village households had put up homemade scarecrows in their front gardens or attached to their property. As I wasn’t local, I didn’t get the booklet advising of the numbers of households taking part, but I overheard people comparing figures in the twenties and thirties, and I spent about two hours wandering around the village so I’m sure there were more tucked away in the recesses that I dared not tread.

Some of the figures were small and not overly lifelike, but there were a few that were very artistic and wonderfully crafted. The Houdini scarecrow, which you’ll see in the vlog, definately lead to a pause as I considered a statement I’d made on camera literaly five minutes before about people hidden inside. The John Lennon/Yoko Ono fell into the artistic category, being very much more along the sculpture/mannequin look, than anything designed to protect crops, though the ’60s colour outfit was probably enough to frighten way even rabid wolves.