Time to Dye

If you’re wondering why there was no blog post yesterday afternoon… good for you, and keep it up.

It’s that time of year, when all you can think about is whether or not the cloaked disguise of the time-travelling madman you have created is quite black enough for the moment when he uses his futuristic medical apparatus to re-animate your exploded corpse. That’s right folks… Christmas is here again, and dyeing a B&Q dust-sheet, until it looks like a gigantic, steam-rolled charcoal briquette, is just the kind of yuletide activity that makes the holiday season at Sleepless Knight’s temporary headquarters seem like a TV Christmas special.

Elsewhere in my brain, it has been a week of mixed feelings; times when I feel as though I can fly, coupled with that panicky sensation in the back of my mind, that says: “Wait a minute… should I really be up here? Aren’t I as susceptible to gravity as everyone else?” There have also been a few “bird-strike” moments; when your heart sinks as you realise the seagull which looked so pretty as it flew gracefully towards you and bounced off the cockpit, might have set the engine alight as it was sucked through it, before being ejected like so much flaming confetti. But enough with the calming aviation metaphors…

It has been brought to my attention that I might just be a bit of a weirdo. And, while this hardly comes as a surprise to me, it is worrying when people you’ve never met, who are significant to you because they are significant to other people you’ve never met, who are significant to you, start telling you you’re a weirdo by proxy… That probably didn’t make any sense at all, but what do you want from me, I’m a weirdo.

So, is this weirdo thing something I perhaps need to address? I mean it’s not as though I make films featuring transsexual Nazi Eskimo porn and bestiality, but the “weirdo” accusation did come at a moment when I was sat on the cold concrete floor of someone else’s living room, constructing a device to bring myself back from the dead, so it may just have merit.

Toby Dale was saying just yesterday that he would like one of those “perfect Sundays” he has heard people talk about. Instead, he was animating a Santa Claus action figure. Unfortunately… we are YouTubers. True, he is much better at it than I am, but normal Sundays are never going to be your thing if you have chosen to pursue such a ridiculous pastime as this one. We are weirdos, every one of us.

Now… if you’ll excuse me, I have to add more velvet-black dye to my gigantic dust-sheet. I mean, without a black cloak to go with his techno-goggles… the man who appears through a portal in my kitchen, to collect a box of my charred remains from the freezer before returning to the future, will just look silly.

A severely vision-impaired time-traveller is helped into position for filming

*For anyone interested… last week’s word was indeed “flaps”. Guessed correctly by The Swedish Flowerpot, who got to choose this word for this week. Guess it, and next week it’s your turn to challenge me.

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