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11 December 2007 @ 12:51 am
Just to prove that I'm not as crap as everyone thinks I am - in the midst of all this flat business, me and Pingu and Vince took a carpet up to that asylum that Claire's in. (I'm sure 'asylum' isn't the right word, but it's better than they were calling them in my day.)

And she's not there. Someone checked her out and they wouldn't tell us who, and I didn't bring any potions or lotions to persuade them to tell us. Long trip for nothing, we've come home empty-handed and Bollo is seriously pissed off.

Claire, don't suppose you're reading this? You're missed. Get in touch, yeah?
25 November 2007 @ 11:49 pm
If you've not had your fill of mind-altering magical times quite yet, then you'll be happy to know I'm dealing again. Kirk brought me the freshest of the fresh, and I've spent all week mixing potions and griding powders.

Need a little magical high? Come find me.

Oh and Claire: get in touch? With someone else if not with me. I was under a spell. Er, anyway.
06 November 2007 @ 12:03 am
What's going on? Who's been using my face? Someone's been having expressions in my face, and it's all out of shape. My cheeks hurt. Who was it? Own up.

And my legs hurt too. Someone's been renting out my body for marathons. My thighs ache like nobody's business.

What's that hideous noise coming from Rudi's room?

And where the hell's my turban?

08 October 2007 @ 12:52 am
This madness - and it is madness, believe me - continues.

The Master is pregnant. I have seen him, and it is true. And he is human. I'm not sure how it could be possible - there are ways to hide, of course, we all know that, but they all involve losing a part of yourself and who you are. The Master remembers who he is, utterly.

Rose doesn't is distant, and I don't really know what to do. Maybe I left her for too long. I thought time wouldn't matter, but that might be a Time Lord way of looking at the universe. I think she's scared.

Mickey needed rescuing from some building or other, where he was imprisoned by walking mannequins. Living plastic, again! I thought it had been destroyed all those months ago, but nothing stays dead around here. (Especially not me.)

And I have become distracted. A Dalek started a fire in London recently, and at the time I was slumped in front of the television, half-asleep. I think there is some kind of mesmerising power in it, something that sends me to sleep during 'Deal or No Deal'. I know it is connected with whatever has brought all of my enemies and friends together after so long - like a bizarre museum exhibit, like a history of my many lives.

It doesn't matter now, anyway, as a large man in a small suit came and took the television away. He also took the kettle, the toaster, the hookah (that was a hard one to let go, let me tell you), some hair straighteners and CDs and music equipment and a laptop and possibly a video camera? It was quite a lot, actually, and I had to help him carry it to the van. He said I was very nice and he was awfully sorry but something about a videogame company and repossessing my flat. I told him it wasn't my flat, and he said they all said that. Er. Sorry, Rose.

Without the TV and the hookah, I feel my head clearing. (I'm also getting a weird itch everywhere, but I'm sure that'll go away.) I need to sort this out. I'm going to the scene of the fire, to see if I can pick up any clues.
18 September 2007 @ 01:53 am
Well, let's see, shall we? New regeneration - the hairstyle's a bit peskier than I remember it being, and in fact this might be my longest hair yet. Perhaps I started out in the sixties, trying to blend in - don't really remember. Quite a lot I don't remember right now, tell the truth, but the sixties' feeling is borne out by the decor of my living space and my clothes. Dressed like an Arabian hooker/ah you might find in a Christmas cracker, and what I've found from digging around suggests I'm a bit of a drugs hound. This must be my dropout incarnation. Brilliant!

Can't remember where I parked the TARDIS, and any keys were on rings rather than string (quite good, that) which is a bit perplexing. No sign of companion or robodog or watch, only this beepy gadget that tells me it's the 21st century. Does greet me as 'Welcome, Doctor' though, which am pleased by. Also suggested I make a 'community wide newspost', so am doing so. Hello!

So, go on then. What's afoot? What needs fixing? What calamities of time and space are there now? Anyone want to come for a spin in the time machine, soon as I find it? Anyone seen Jack? This is his sort of century, isn't it?

I've no doubt trouble will come find me in a bit. Right now I think I might have a look at this hookah again. Research, you know, it's never a bad thing. er and where's my sonic screwdriver got to?
31 August 2007 @ 12:15 pm
I've quit the Board.

Properly and fully and no take-backs. I don't know, I just felt that after all that audit business, there was no way I could go back, really. Everyone'd be either pitying me, or laughing at me, and I don't like to work that way.

I wasn't really anything important anyway, just an extra pair of hands when things got really bad. More of a courtesy position, because I've been around so long. All over now, at any rate.

So I'm asking not in a Board way, but in a - er - friendly way. Not in a magical-detective thing, but out of kindness for my good friends and buddies and pals and etc. Does anyone else have Spider's remaining cocks?
21 August 2007 @ 01:02 am
barell vec bar'tel mat-


Right. I was audited. And it was a level 8, which, if you're a normal - imagine having your heart ripped out and dissected while it's still attached to your nervous system. And then you have to stitch it back up yourself with barbed wire and a rusty nail. God, my hands won't stop shaking, and I feel like I'm going to throw up most of the time, and-

and they said I was a "casual abuser of magic" and they said that "sexual relations with mortals, while not strictly forbidden, are unhealthy and damaging" and that I was foul, and, and Saboo saw, and the Head of the Board, and everyone, and it was just fucking awful.

I'm on probation for a month, and fucking Saboo is in charge of all my magical supplies. No more dealing, no more shopkeeping, right? That fucking auditor went right into my soul and judged me and everyone saw.


I'm going to bed.
27 July 2007 @ 01:03 am
Lock up your daughters - and your sons, actually - hide the hard liquor and the drugs - bollocks, I knew I forgot to do something - because Spider Dijon is back in town, and he's got a thirst on him like an angry horse.

He's currently bouncing up and down on the mattress in one of the spare rooms and whooping like a she-yeti. Reckon he'll be staying for a while, or at least until he can find somewhere else. Er, Claire, you might want to...hide. Or prepare yourself, at least.

Gregg too.

Gosh, it feels just like the old days. Where's Rudi? We should go down the pub and hit on someone, and then hit someone, and then take something. Where's Tony?

Oh and Barley: shut up.

Get some bongos in! Come on!
28 June 2007 @ 11:44 pm
Until further notice, the flat next door has been filled with colourful plastic balls and a four foot tall slide. Better that than just collecting dust, while I wait for inspiration.

Right now, my only idea is to expand the shop downstairs, and expand the flat upstairs. It feels selfish to put in a bar or a cinema or whatever when we have people sleeping in baths and cupboards. So: Tony, Gregg, Claire, Rudi, er...Howard? If you want a room, as in a permanent (or as permanent as normals get) room in the flat, with your own lockable cupboards and paintable walls, and don't mind paying rent - it's yours. Speak up now if you're staying. That goes for anyone else who's homeless or fancies a change - we've got rooms going spare, just let me know.

Otherwise, come round and join in the nursery time. You have no idea how relaxing it is to play with balls for hours on end. (No, that wasn't an Ashcroft joke.)

OH AND: Bollo, come back so I we can sort this out, alright? Stop pissing around with the Queen of Darkness. I'm not picking out a new familiar this late in the game.
Current Location: Flat 2.0
20 June 2007 @ 12:47 am
Consider me an expert at finding the bad side of everything, but all I can think of here is - maybe it'll put the council tax up?

Rudi bought me the building next door, mine, no strings attached. And it's huge! It's twice the size of our flat, easily. I mean, I could extend the shop, build another bathroom, have some actual bedrooms put in for everyone who's sleeping in airing cupboards or bathtubs or on sofas...

It must be paralysis of choice, that's what it is. World full of magic at my fingertips, and I can't even decide on a base shade for the colour scheme. I've no idea what to do with it all, whether I should devote half to living space, half to the shop - or maybe something new? Some new venture? Bollo wants a rollerdisco but I can't rollerskate.

Suggestion box: