Really, you shouldn’t put your hand into any viscous fluid if you can help it. Or your leg for that matter.

Christmas truly is upon us. It is too late to run. And if I should hide you’d better believe I’d get an angry phone call from my Mum.

No one wants that.

Every year I get tempted to give everyone who tells me they don’t know what they want for Christmas something inanely terrible (ideas so far have included: a solo sock, an empty box of chocolates, a brick and a bag of cat hair). I don’t know, any ideas from out there in the land of the internet that wouldn’t involve me ending up in prison and/or an insane asylum? Bonus points for a gift that is incredibly stupid yet cannot be thrown away.

Of course I tell people I don’t know what I want all the time. If anyone deserves a bag of cat hair for Christmas it’s me. Fortunately in a rare moment of justice in our dark cold universe, my largest cat Harry is on track to provide me with enough shed hair to fill a medium sized backpack.

I plan to regift it.


We’re going to take a short break for Christmas and New Years but much like the Old Ones, we shall return in 2017.


In the mean time Fhtagnauts, thanks for all the love and support. May your enemies never be able to remember their own Wi-Fi password.


– Andrew


  • UPDATE: This post has apparently been brought to you by typos…