#oneaday, Day 223: One Adult Ticket, Please

This is an exaggeration, of course. A lot of things are made to be shared. A meal for two. Sexual intercourse. That fart that made you chuckle for a good thirty minutes because it smelled like what you imagine a can of processed vegetables that's been left open for a month stinks like.

Still, there are a number of things which are supposedly inherently social activities which are actually improved severaltimes-fold by the complete and total absence of other people. And yet the peculiarness that is "social convention" precludes people from ever considering taking part in these activities without other people present at times.

Since we're on the subject, let's consider the cinema. The cinema is a place with lots of seats where lots of people can sit together and all watch the same movie. A movie is an audio-visual form of entertainment where it is necessary to both watch and listen in order to understand what is going on. Ergo (yeah, I said "ergo") it is natural to assume that you would want to give this your full attention. So why did you bring these people with you?

The Giggler

The Giggler sits and watches the movie and laughs obnoxiously loudly at everything. Not just the deliberately funny bits. But the bits they find amusing, too. The trouble with The Giggler is that they find everything funny. From the fact that the lead character has a zit on his nose to the cheesy line that the love interest spouts, everything provokes a snort, snicker, giggle or guffaw.

You're watching the climax of the movie ("climax", incidentally, being a word that would cause The Giggler to collapse and possibly explode) and it's clear that it's a powerful, dramatic moment. However, The Giggler has decided that this moment is actually the funniest thing they have ever seen, and they proceed to ruin the dramatic tension for themselves, you and everyone around them by chortling away to themselves.

Net result: You, and most other people in the cinema, want to punch them in the face by the time you leave.

The Joker

Ally to The Giggler, The Joker has a sly comment to make about every single scene in the movie, which normally sets The Giggler off into one of their famous Fits of The Giggles. The Joker knows the perfect moment in which to say something completely inappropriate which ruins the whole movie for themselves and everyone around them. Fortuitously, The Joker usually has the good sense to say these things quietly so that only they and their immediate group of companions can hear them.

But when a planet is about to explode on screen, there's a moment of silence and The Joker leans over and whispers "Cock!" in your ear, there's no way you can recover from that.

The Farter

The Farter is a subdivision of The Joker. The Farter also does things inappropriately at just the wrong moment. But you can imagine what it is they do instead of cracking jokes.

The Texter

The Texter can't keep their hands off their mobile phone for the duration of the movie, despite those stern warnings and irritating Orange adverts before it starts. The Texter inevitably has poor low-light vision, too, so insists on having their phone set to full brightness for while they are sending messages to all their friends who are not you.

The One Who Doesn't Get It

The One Who Doesn't Get It is fairly self-explanatory. Stereotypically, The One Who Doesn't Get It is a girl who has been dragged along to a sci-fi movie by her boyfriend, but it's by no means limited to the female of the species.

The One Who Doesn't Get It is trying very hard to like the movie but just doesn't understand it. Perhaps it's a movie based on a TV show or comic series that they don't have any context for. Perhaps they went to the toilet when a critical plot point happened. Perhaps they're used to stories with all the depth of a puddle. Or perhaps they're just a bit slow.

Regardless of the reason, The One Who Doesn't Get It very much wants to Get It. So they ask lots of questions of the person who appears to Get It the most. Which is probably you.

The Rustler

The Rustler is, at their core, a kind-hearted soul. That's why they stocked up on drinks and snacks in the foyer. They're more than happy to share their tasty treats with you. Unfortunately, the tasty treats that they purchased come in the noisiest bag imaginable. And not only that, the sweets in the bag are all individually wrapped, too, meaning that not only do you have to rustle the bag if you want a sweet (which you do, because they're delicious and exactly what you want right now) you then have to spent a few minutes rustling the paper of the sweet in order to get at the delicious goodness within. And once you've had one, you want more.

In this way, The Rustler has managed to escape blame for themselves alone. By sharing the goodies with others, it's not just their fault.

The One Who's Seen The Movie Before

The One Who's Seen The Movie Before is, in many ways, the most dangerous of all. Because The Giggler, The Joker, The Farter, The Texter, The One Who Doesn't Get It and The Rustler can all be ignored or told to shut up. The One Who's Seen The Movie Before can do their damage and make it irreversible before you know what's happening.

All it takes is a simple "Oh wow! This is the twist coming up!" to ruin any sense of dramatic tension. The One Who's Seen The Movie Before assumes that everyone else has also Seen The Movie Before and as such doesn't mind dishing out a few spoilers both before and during the movie. And because they're your friend, you don't want to punch them in the testicles for doing so. But inside, your mind is beating them senseless about the face and neck.

The Other Moviegoers

This doesn't even take into account the other people in the cinema. There's The Very Tall Man, who inevitably sits right in front of you, even when the rest of the cinema is empty. There are The Annoying Children, who are usually other people's The Jokers and The Gigglers. There are The Weak Bladders, who get up every five minutes to go and have a piss, and inevitably sit on your row, requiring you to stand up to let them out. And numerous others. These can be dealt with by simply not sitting near anyone else, ever.

So stay safe. Just go by yourself. Unless you're with a significant other and you really don't care about the movie and just want to make out in the back row. But, you know, you can achieve much the same effect by simply turning off the lights in your living room, and it won't cost you seven quid.

In other news, I went to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World today. By myself. And it was awesome.

#oneaday, Day 222: I'm Right, You're Wrong

Having an argument is a great way to ruin an otherwise perfectly lovely day. The argument could be over anything. It could be over whether or not you think the latest changes that Facebook have made to their site are good or not. It could be whether or not you think raspberry ripple is the best flavour of ice-cream. It could be over whether or not you think the Pope is a massive douchebag. And, if it's on the Internet, it's probably over something utterly irrelevant and useless.

So here's a few steps on how to do it better.

Step 1: State your hypothesis

"PS3 sucks!"

Step 2: Offer convincing evidence for your hypothesis

"Because Xbox 360 rulez!"

Step 3: Offer a source for your evidence

"My mate Joe said so, too."

Step 4: Await response

"PS3 doesn't suck!"

Step 5: Respond to response

"Yes it does!" (Return to Step 4 until both sides have been made abundantly clear. This should take approximately 30 minutes, or five pages of forum posts.)

Step 6: Make up a statistic and quote it

"80% of people who tried both consoles said that PS3 sucks!"

Step 7: Await response

"Well I think Xbox 360 sucks!"

Step 8: Quote Nietzsche

"Admiration for a quality, art or rival games console can be so strong that it deters us from striving to possess it."

Step 9: Await response

"You're a douche, do you know that?"

Step 10: Respond to response

"Your face is a douche."

Step 11: Await response to response

"Your mom is a douche."

Step 12: Respond with nonsensical, illogical response

"That's not what she said last night."

Step 13: Await confusion

"What?"

Step 14: Take advantage of confusion

"So it's settled then!"

Step 15: Gloat

"I win. Douche."

And so it goes. One of the strange things about this always-connected, everyone-has-a-voice society is that everyone feels the need to have a contentious opinion on something. This happens (albeit not always to the degree described above) on all manner of topics, from the most irrelevant of fanboy conflicts to far-reaching opinions on matters such as racism. And no-one will ever back down, because there's always another website that "proves" their point, always another statistic from some made-up society somewhere.

It baffles me sometimes, because all this time that gets wasted arguing could be far better used enjoying both things that are being argued over. Of course, part of the issue in some cases revolves around people defending the camp they placed their flag in first. In many cases, people can't afford to buy both, say, a PS3 and a 360. So they stake their claim to one or the other and then justify their choice to anyone who will listen, and a bunch of people who won't also. That way, by branding the thing they haven't got "crap", they feel better about not owning it, even if they're secretly bitter that they can't make use of its exclusive features, software or delicious strawberry flavour.

Of course, some people are just asses and feel the need to disagree with everyone and everything. And those people are called assholes.

(If you're wondering about the inexplicable German in the cartoon above, you can blame both me and RothDog. Drawing nonsensical cartoons involving German stickmen arguing was always an excellent way to pass the time in tedious German lessons back at school. This strip is a recreation of the first ever one we drew.)

#oneaday, Day 221: Remember The Fallen Bloggers

It's with some sadness that we've said goodbye to several of my favourite #oneaday bloggers recently. No, they're not dead, thankfully, but various life circumstances have meant that it's no longer practical or desirable for them to fit daily blogging into their schedule. So a moment of silence, if you please, for Rhiarti and Chris Schilling. And after that moment of silence, a big round of applause for their hard, thankless, unpaid, voluntary work on the whole project up until this point. I hope you will continue to write, guys, because I've always enjoyed reading your work, whatever the subject, and whatever you might have thought of the quality of your posts.

Although nowhere near as many people—if any—will make it to the end of 365 days as started, I know that speaking personally I'm very pleased to have made the acquaintance of some amazing people through this whole business. And I'm sorry that there are still more whose work I didn't have a chance to enjoy while they were still involved, too.

I feel particular mention here should go to Andy "Ultrabrilliant" Kelly, who started the whole thing off and Lauren "Atheistium" Wainwright, whose tweet about the whole thing got me interested in the first place. While neither of them are still taking part, they're still active on Twitter and on their own blogs and doing proper worky stuff too, so do pay them a visit.

I've made it 221 days so far. That's quite a lot—over half a year, in fact. I'm pretty pleased with myself, but if anything I'm more determined than ever to make it to the end of this year. I nearly typed "unscathed" there, but those who have followed me from the beginning will know that I am anything but "unscathed" after the events of the last 18 months. Scathing is very much in attendance.

But those who have been following me for this period will also know that this whole process has provided an excellent sense of release. There have been times when I've wanted to say things that were stuck in my head, and this was as good a place as any to say them. And there have been other times when I've been able to channel that energy into something creative or "funny". Whether or not you've found my attempts at being humorous to be, well, humorous is beside the point, really. (No offence. Though obviously I appreciate it a great deal if you do enjoy things I've done.) It's given me the opportunity to try out all sorts of things and to find different ways to express myself.

You only have to look at the way the presentation of my blog has changed to see that. From pure text, to text with a quickly-located and vaguely relevant stock image, to clumsily-drawn cartoons that are shamelessly inspired by Allie Brosh's work on Hyperbole and a Half, to daily forays into Comic Life; I feel that the opportunity to experiment with and develop my craft has been a particularly valuable one.

And the self-discipline required in order to keep this going has been immense. As I wrote about yesterday, I feel this is a skill that I've partly learned from the things I enjoy. As "Don Woods" (*cough*) pointed out in the comments, though, perhaps it's an innate skill, also. I couldn't say. I know that this whole process has helped a lot, though.

So a huge thanks to everyone who's ever been involved with #oneaday, whether I've had the chance to speak with you directly or not. Thanks to those who inspired me to write something—anything—every day. Thanks to those who have read every single one of these entries (I know there's a couple of you at least). Thanks to those who comment. Thanks to those who lurk. Thanks to those who have clicked onto just a couple of these entries out of curiosity. Thanks to those who have helped me through the toughest time I've ever gone through in my whole life. Thanks to those who enjoy my stupid drawings. And you, reading this right now, too? Thanks to you, too.

Ah, that was disgustingly profound, wasn't it? Whatever. I mean it.

While you're on, pay the fellow Survivors a visit and support them. And if I've missed anyone out, please feel free to harangue me in the comments or on Twitter.

#oneaday, Day 218: I Love You, You Twat

Those of you who've been following me for a while will know that I have been known to make occasional forays into the virtual world of Second Life. For all its flaws and glaring technical errors and furry porn and flourishing sex industry, I always find it a genuinely fascinating experience from both social and creative angles.

I have one particular friend in that "other" world that I want to talk about today. We both started at around the same time, which means our avatars are both around the four year old mark right now. I've been rather more sporadic in my attendance than she has, but ever since we met we've shared a very close friendship which is pretty much unlike any of the other relationships I've cultivated in that particular world. She's one of those "constants" that you know you can always rely on. She's always been there, and has always offered a sympathetic ear when I've needed one.

We've also always shared a mutual love of insulting the crap out of each other. She admonishes me for my long absences and the fact I can type without mistakes at 85 words per minute. In response, I take great delight in drawing attention to her own typos, which have resulted in us inventing a number of our own words that anyone coming into our group is utterly bewildered by. I'm not even convinced we know what "furple" and "plinge" mean. But from the context, they are generally inclined to sound dirty.

Then we'll find something to argue about like children. Last night saw a particularly epic "am not, are too" battle that managed to impress everyone around us with our sheer tenacity. One of us will, at some point, accuse the other of being a pervert. The other will, in turn, bring up something from the past which lends incontrovertible evidence that no, they are in fact the pervert here. And so it goes on. For hours at a time, usually.

This is something that has always baffled me about friendship. At what stage do you make that mutual decision that it's okay to be incredibly rude to one another, especially in front of other people? It's one of those peculiar contradictions that seems to make perfect sense while you're engaged in it, yet is utter nonsense when you think about it. The common theory is that it's a sign you're so comfortable with one another you're happy to say absolutely anything to one another, because you know that you do genuinely care about each other. In the case of my friend and I, there's generally a bit of playing up for the crowd, too—they've come to expect it of us. When we're alone together, we'll generally talk normally and candidly.

I have a number of "real life" friends who are like this, too, so it's not just a case of the John Gabriel Internet Fuckwad Theory coming to life. Board game nights generally degenerate into smack talk and aspersions cast on pretty much everything it's possible to cast aspersions on. And yet somehow without disrupting the gameplay. (Much. Usually.)

I guess it's one of those social anomalies that we'll never truly understand. Still, it always keeps things entertaining.

With that in mind, thanks for reading, you complete bellend.

#oneaday, Day 217: "Book? LOL!"

I forget the exact circumstances of when I came across the quote in this post's title. It may have been on some form of social networking website, or dating site, or something like that. But it was a good few years back now.

The context of the quote was in one of those sections you get on pretty much all online profiles that asks you to list your favourite music, films, TV shows and books. This person's favourite books were listed as "book? lol".

That struck me as rather sad, but perhaps a little unsurprising given the general attention span of most people these days. Why sit down with a book which delays gratification and requires active use of the brain when you can be immediately bombarded with information via TV and the Internet?

It's an age-old argument of course, and one which has probably been running ever since every new information-giving technology came along. However, it seems particularly ironic in the context of the Internet, given that much of it is, in fact, text. Sure, there are pretty pictures and buttons that fart when you click on them and pornography, but it's still fundamentally built on text. You're reading text right now. Is your head hurting yet?

The fact that everyone has a voice on the Internet is one of those things that is debatable as to whether it is a Good Thing or not. But as part of having that voice, everyone has the opportunity to give their thoughts and expand on them as much as they want to. The sad thing is, though, in many cases, people don't feel like they have the time to read (or write) a full, well-considered argument. Instead, they denounce it as a "wall of text" and choose not to read it.

It happens in video games, too. A friend of mine once said that he couldn't get through Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney because there was "too much reading". It's a game about a lawyer. I'm not sure what else he was expecting.

As a writer, as someone who crafts language and bends it to my will in the name of pretentiousness, self-expression, catharsis and humour, this is sad. The English language is a powerful tool that can say many things. As, indeed, are other languages. But it seems that for many these days, the priority is for quick, snappy, "efficient" communication. And sure, there are situations in which this is entirely appropriate. But I say that shouldn't be the norm. People shouldn't be afraid to speak their mind in as much length as they wish.

My mind is particularly drawn to the early days of the Squadron of Shame. Long before we started producing our podcast, we ran lengthy discussion threads on a variety of games on 1up.com's Radio forum. We'd started as a result of one of the 1up Radio features, so that was our spiritual home. Many of the people who populated that forum were articulate sorts who agreed with my thoughts above, so there were plenty of like-minded individuals there who enjoyed taking part in our discussions and posting their own "walls of text".

But one day, the Powers That Be at 1up decided that it would be a great idea to merge all the forums into "Games" and "Not Games". This meant that lengthy, in-depth discussion threads from groups such as the Squadron were crammed into the same space as "OMG HALO IS BETTR THAN KILZONE". Naturally, this led to problems. In one of the last discussions we had on those boards—on the subject of the peculiar PS2 game Psi-Ops—the posting was almost immediately derailed by a particularly notorious troll who posted "OMG FUCKING MASSIVE WALL OF TEXT" in giant red letters. Said "wall of text" was maybe six or seven paragraphs long and was interesting to read, but as soon as troll boy showed his face, the discussion went off track, not helped by many people (including myself) rising to his bait.

It's a pity that to some people the desire to speak in detail, at length and to produce a coherent argument is seen as a negative thing. Personally I would have thought that a forum—by its very nature an asynchronous method of communication in which people can take their time to consider their responses—was the ideal environment in which to have these lengthy discussions. But apparently not.

This is perhaps an unnecessarily negative picture, of course. There are still people who read books. There are still people who like to post more than five words at a time. There are still people who don't decide to ignore all the rules of spelling, punctuation and grammar "just because it's the Internet"—who came up with that stupid idea, anyway? It's just a pity that, at times, they seem to be declining in number.

Oh well. If you read through all that, you can count yourself amongst the élite!

#oneaday, Day 216: I Wish The X Was Ex

So I believe the new series of The X-Factor kicked off tonight. I'm saying this purely based on a few comments on Twitter that I happened to witness earlier on, and not by having watched it at all. The reason I don't watch it? The X-Factor incites the kind of burning rage and despair at society that is matched only by how I feel during major football tournaments. It's one of the main reasons I don't watch TV at all. Not The X-Factor specifically. But shows like it. And by God there are a lot of them.

And they're always the same. It's all very well saying that it's Just Entertainment, and that other forms of entertainment are just as guilty of the offences that The X-Factor commits.

But no. The X-Factor is pretty much identical every year, bar a couple of minor alterations to the format and the inevitable fake "controversy" over who is going to be a judge.

We start with the auditions. Everyone who watches the show uses the auditions section as the main reason to convince people who don't watch the show to watch the show. "It's funny!" they'll say. "There are really shit people sometimes!"

If I want to watch shit people singing, I'll go direct a school choir. I don't need it on my television. And it's not funny. It's just embarrassing. Yes, these people did it to themselves by signing up for the show. But there's no need for the "clever editing" (hah!) that goes into the show to focus on them quite so much. And what are we supposed to think? The show inevitably builds them up with one of its famous sob stories, then knocks them down flat when the judges decide to brand them "awful". What are we, as viewers, supposed to take away from that? "Hah! Look! This person's had an awful life! But they're shit at singing and quite ugly, so let's laugh at them and their misfortune! They're going to die alone!"

Then, as I recall, there are "Boot Camp" sections, where the judges get to show us all how obnoxiously rich they are out as a result of the clone armies they've built over the years. This is ostensibly the "training" section, where the performers get to learn how to, well, perform better. Funny how we rarely see much in the way of training. Instead, we see when they fuck it up, because that's Better Television.

After that we're into the interminable, never-ending live shows. Every week, the remaining grinning idiots, who have had all semblance of personality sandblasted out of them by this point, come on stage, sing an incredibly twee and wet version of an existing song, listen to some "criticism" from the judges (which inevitably involves one or more of the key phrases "I liked it", "I think you could be the next big thing", "You've got the X-Factor", "You… could win this show" or equivalents towards the negative end of the spectrum) which doesn't actually offer any constructive advice at all, and then bugger off the stage either crying or going "YES!"

During the live shows, the black woman with the incredibly powerful voice will inevitably almost get to the final and then not quite make it. The "novelty act" which everyone thinks is Really Funny will be kept in for an inexplicably long time, despite being a one-joke act who don't actually have any talent whatsoever. During the final, the performer who is the better singer will be kicked out in favour of the performer who is more generic and boring. And during the final, the "Winner's Single" will be revealed to be a dirge-like ballad that makes everyone who listens to it want to kill themselves.

After the show has finished, the Winner's Single will be released, it will sell like the proverbial hot cakes for a few weeks then disappear without trace for at least six months, after which time the winner will then release their "Stunning Debut Album!" by which time the whole world has forgotten who they are, at least it would have had they not been in the tabloids and on Sky News every five minutes every time they pick their bum or scratch their nose. As a result of this, the obsessive fans become like the people I talked about yesterday, and the people who don't watch the show and have no time for manufactured pop nonsense are about ready to commit an act of terrorism.

So there you go. I've saved you having to watch it at all this year. The X-Factor can fuck off and burn in a fire.

#oneaday, Day 215: Who?

Front page of ever-reliable rag The Sun today bore a story about David and Victoria Beckham sacking fourteen members of their staff. That's a whole third of their staff! Disasteriffic! How terrible! How awful! How nightmarish! It must be so tough for them!

Bollocks, of course, and certainly not front-page newsworthy. The thing that comes to mind any time I hear any kind of celebrity gossip is one of those awkward conversations you have with your parents where they tell you all about someone whose name you've never heard before but you're apparently supposed to know everything about, including their medical history, any past indiscretions, marital status and whether or not they or anyone close to them has died recently.

It's easy to do, of course. We all do it. We all talk about our friends to other people as if they know them. Because we know them, we refer to them with a comfortable familiarity. It sometimes doesn't cross our mind that certain people in one group of friends might not know who "Jeff" or "Calin" from another group of friends are.

But with celebrity, it's a different matter. People who are into that sort of thing talk about celebrities as if they are their friends. They excitedly talk about their idols on a first-name basis, assuming you know who on earth they're blathering on about. Worse, sometimes they use nicknames dreamed up by tabloids that make it even more difficult to work out who it is they're on about. If they're involved in football, it'll probably be the first syllable of their surname followed by either "-o" or "-s". Sometimes, it's a reference to pop culture long forgotten, or never known about at all by some people. Does Victoria Beckham still get called "Posh"? I bet she does by someone out there.

I still find it difficult to understand the fascination with the minutiae of these people's lives, though. Fair enough if you want to follow the career of someone who is interesting, or does something that you find particularly stimulating. But these people are not, in most cases, close personal friends. How is the fact that poor old Posh 'n' Becks are having to sack a whole third of their staff to "save money" newsworthy? What are we supposed to get out of that story? Envy? Because that's a Deadly Sin, I believe. Are we supposed to feel compassion or empathy for them? Because the vast majority of us don't have one person to sack, let alone fourteen. Let alone fourteen people being only a third of our "staff".

David Beckham doing something exciting and footbally. That might be newsworthy. On the sports pages, not the front page. Victoria Beckham doing something exciting and pop-starry. That, too, might be newsworthy. On the entertainment pages, not the front page.

Also in the news today: A man saved his daughter from a bear pit. That's pretty heroic. Why isn't that on the front page of The Sun? Because people are more interested in the life and times of poor little rich kids.

#oneaday 214: You're Not Tom Cruise

I'm not Doctor Who, you're not Tom Cruise. So don't even think about attempting to invent your own cocktails.

I say this as a result of a memorable evening one night at university, a good few years back now. It was one of those evenings where we had just decided it was vitally important to get as blind drunk as possible, as is often the wont of people at university. At least one member of our circle of friends was in possession of some of the more "creative" spirits and liqueurs available, so we pooled our resources in an attempt to create The Next Big Thing.

To be fair, given the evidence we'd discovered on how easy it is to make a putridly-coloured yet remarkably tasty cocktail, we had faith in our own abilities to produce something delicious.

Shortly after arriving at university, we had all discovered the joy of the Juicy Lucy, a pint-based cocktail made up of a glug of vodka, a splash of Bols Blue, a bit of Taboo and then the remainder of the glass filled up with roughly half-and-half of orange juice and lemonade. The resultant glass of green liquid looks remarkably like what happens if you fill a pint glass with water and then squirt too much Fairy liquid into it. It also turns your poo green if you drink too much of it, a fact which several of us were unprepared for and thus spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time fretting the next day that we had some form of terrifying bum-cancer.

Alongside the Juicy Lucy was the even-simpler concoction dreamed up by our hall of residence's bar on "Hawaiian Night" (a night when everyone was supposed to wear Hawaiian shirts, and they turned the heating up full)—the Passion Wagon. The Passion Wagon was, again, a pint-based cocktail consisting of a shot of Passoa (passion fruit liqueur) and a bottle of Reef. That's it. It came out bright orange and tasted like Five Alive. It did not, to my knowledge, do anything unpleasant to the colour of one's bodily fluids or waste matter.

So going on that evidence, we figured that making a cocktail was pretty much simply a case of finding things which might taste nice together and then combining them together in a glass. Also, that vodka, when added to any drink, immediately makes something "more alcoholic" without making it taste any different.

How wrong we were. The first mistake we made was forgetting that Baileys curdles quite easily. After creating a number of drinks that looked like someone had spunked in, we decided that we weren't skilled enough to do that clever thing where you make the Baileys float on top. So we left that alone. For a while. Then we elected to try combining various different flavoured liqueurs together. The least (or most, depending on how you look at this) successful attempt was dubbed "The Brown Sauce", owing to its resemblance in taste to HP Sauce. For the readers unfamiliar with the wonder of HP Sauce, it is good on a bacon sandwich. It is less good in liquid form and drunk.

Eventually we gave up and went back to staples like Archers and lemonade. We didn't have another home-made cocktail night after that. We left it strictly to the professionals.

#oneaday, Day 213: Intensity

There's an old saying, isn't there, that claims if you lose the use of one of your senses, the others become much more acute. Having never been blinded, deafened or whatever the equivalent words for losing your senses of taste, smell or touch are, I can't speak for the truth of this. Although I did have a nasty cold one time that stopped me from being able to smell very much, though a good curry sorted that right out, just in time for me to be able to smell the musty flatulence caused by the not-inconsiderable amount of spices therein.

But there is one sphere where pretty much anyone can get a taste of what this is like. The Internet. When you're talking to someone on the Internet, you might not be able to see or hear them. You're certainly not touching them, smelling them or tasting them, unless there's some exciting new Skype-compatible technology you're all using that I haven't heard of yet. But regardless, friendships and relationships form, grow, break, explode, spread, all the things that real relationships and friendships do, in fact.

Except for the fact that the lack of "something"—be it sight, sound, smell, touch or taste—makes everything that much more intense. For many people, cultivating a friendship in "real life" is a drawn-out process that takes some time of getting to know each other, getting a feel for one another, understanding what makes each other tick and so on. This process still happens between people who have met online, but at a vastly accelerated rate. The very nature of communication on the Internet means that responses can be considered more carefully and, assuming you're an honest person, made more honest than you might feel able to be if you're sitting in front of someone, their piercing eyes gazing into your soul.

Of course, the opposite's also true. It's much, much easier to be a bastard and a liar thanks to the wonder of the Internet. And, in many cases, without consequences. Some people find this fun. But the emotion and the hurt it can cause is just as real as the feelings of friendship, affection, even love that can also be felt in these relationships between people who have never seen each other, in some cases.

On the whole, though, the opportunity to meet and talk to people from all over the world is something which should never be taken for granted, whatever form it comes in. Whether it's posting on a message board, writing an email, using Twitter, checking out someone's avatar in Second Life, raiding with guildies in WoW; without the Internet, there's no way that a whole bunch of these people would be in our lives. Old friendships would be lost and forgotten. New friendships might never be made. Soulmates might never find each other. And you wouldn't be able to read the deranged, 1:30am ramblings of someone such as myself.

Some might say the world would be a better place for that. But, y'know, I kinda like it this way.

#oneaday, Day 211: The Only Art Lesson You Will Ever Need

"I can't draw!" I hear you cry, assuming you're shouting about not being able to draw at this exact moment, which you probably aren't. But no matter! Help is at hand. You don't have to be an excellent artist to be able to draw things that are distinctive and interesting. I'm going to let you into the secrets of my own craft which you have doubtless seen throughout this blog. The art of the stickman.

I'll tell you a secret: I can draw. Sort of. Not great, and I've never studied it or had any particularly formal training. But I can sort of draw. I just choose not to when it comes to the pictures on this blog, because ever since secondary school when my good buddy Ed "Roth Dog" Padgett and I discovered that stickmen are actually the most expressive things in the universe, we've often chosen to stick to stickmen, no pun intended. On a side note, Roth actually can draw, as you'll see here.

But anyway. Let's begin.

Step 1: Pose

When you're drawing a stick person, the first thing you need to consider is what they're going to be doing. Since the body is very simple and you're going to spend most of the time on the face, this is a simple matter of making a quick decision. Most people stick to the traditional model (figure 1, but you can get stick figures doing all manner of weird and wonderful things (figure 2) even before you've put a face on them. Remember to add feet. Feet make poses more versatile. Adding feet to your stickmen is the difference between standing casually and tapping its foot impatiently.

Step 2a: Normal faces

The next step, which a lot of people leave out, stopping at step 1, is to add a face to your stickman. You only need three lines to put a face on a stickman. Two vertical lines for eyes, and one horizontal or curvy line for a mouth. These lines can be modified to produce a variety of expressions (figure 3).

Fig. 3: Possible stickman facial expressions.

Step 2b: Open-mouthed faces

If one of the closed-mouth expressions just isn't expressing things expressively enough for you, then you may wish to consider opening your stickman's mouth. What you put inside your stickman's mouth can make a large amount of difference to what the expression means (figure 4).

Step 2c: Exaggerated faces

If none of the above faces are quite getting across what you are trying to say with your stickman, then simply throw any semblance of realism out of the window and do something ridiculous. These are stickmen, after all. They can do whatever the hell you damn well want (figure 5).

Step 3: Detail

Once you've come up with a pose and a face, all you need to do is add some individuality to the stickman by adding some detail. This is normally done via the medium of hair. Creating different stickman characters is a simple matter of giving them different hairstyles. No-one will ever notice that they have the same faces and poses. You can even change a stick person's gender at the drop of a hat simply by changing the hairstyle (figure 6).

And with just those three steps, you are officially done! You have created your own unique character. Congratulations. You're a cartoonist.