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I had a great time at Block Party. Many thanks to Dan Farrimond for organising the daytime sessions, and to you, Paul, and your family for organising the evening.
The whole day at £10 was a bargain - I'd be willing to spend £15 or £20 on a similar event in the future. Trying to describe it to people afterwards was tricky, but my wife remembers Digi of old so was quite understanding, and has been enjoying the videos from the event.
It was lovely to see your fiancée and daughter helping out throughout the day and in Quiz-me-do, and always smiling - it gave me warm fuzzy feelings seeing them helping the dad of the family in his passion project. It must have been slightly weird them meeting a load of oddballs like us, like a husband inviting the whole of his strangely-populated office home for dinner!
There was a nice family/community feel to the whole event, especially because generally speaking you, and Violet Berlin etc. were always around rather than hidden in a green room. I've not been to any other fan conventions, but I imagine they are often bigger and more corporate.
Of course, I would quite understand that you would love to sell more tickets next time, which might need a bigger venue and change things somewhat.
Many thanks again, and much love.
Chart Cat has been conspicuous by his absence. Perhaps it's time for Chart Cat's top ten handsome crabs?
There's Buster Crabbe, for starters.
Help me. I can't stop it.
There's a man who calls himself John,
Who peddles his chicken goujons,
If they are consumed,
You surely are doomed,
For the chicken's not chicken but prawn.
I hate prawns.
When I was at primary school some bloke came and did a talk about his work. His claim to fame? He designed the alien image that graces the packets of KP's Space Raiders. He was really boring. The bell went for dinner time and we all fucked off to the playground: "Wait! Wait! I haven't finished yet!" he shouted in desperation.
When he was leaving and heading to his car, a load of the bad lads started booting footballs at him as hard as they could. Shane Jones, the baddest lad, got hold of a cricket ball from somewhere and lobbed it at him, smacking him right on his ear.
"Stop it! Stop it! Go away you horrid children!" he screamed from behind his clipboard that he was using as an impromptu (and ineffective) shield. All of the bad lads took this as a 'let's do it more!' request.
Me and Jonathan White just watched them and kept on eating our sandwiches.
My sister lives almost literally next to the KP factory where they make Space Raiders. You can tell when it's a Thursday there because the stench of pickled onion flavour fills the air so bad that even the birds don't come out.
I am fit and strong and that is all.
Dear Mr Biffo, which was Gladys Knight's favourite Pip?