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Wednesday, 30 December 2015

My idea for Jaws 5

America, get rid of the guns

America, get rid of the guns

Alexander Gordon Jahans

Once upon a time I posted a more nuanced approach to gun control. I suggested that maybe we should take the NRA at their word and give people an optional people's militia where they could become registered good guys with guns after training and psyche tests. This was seen as too severe, too strict, an optional training and registration society for people to do exactly as the NRA say guns are for? No, too strict. Too harsh.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, this past year I've been made aware of people being shot by toddlers and dogs  (so it's really not just a people problem), 27 people shot and killed on christmass day and enough regular mass shootings that it has gotten boring. I tried to be nuanced before and that didn't work, so let's try this...

Your constitution is a mess, your political system is corrupt, broken and undemocratic and your "justice" system needs radical overhaul. You are a broken society of death and suffering and I pity you. You are the country where superheroes make sense. We have the upperclass spy, the enthusiastic detective and the friendly traveller, you have the hard working immigrant, the rich git who cares about his community and the naive young hero. You are lost.

There is not going to be a solution to your problems in my lifetime is there, even if I let myself live that long. This is why I feel so angry, so sad and so bitter. You are a nation trapped in agony. No wonder you need patriotism, it's the only way you can keep going.

I want to help you. I wish I could. The gits scream about the sanctity of the constitution asking if we, the sane, would come with guns to get theirs? Like that's some insane and inexcusable suggestion. It's what you would do. Because oh yeah, swatting. Idiots ringing up the police and screaming that someone has a gun so SWAT will burst in on letsplayers they don't like. You use your country's rapid response unit as a prank and buy your kids bullet proof blankets for school because shootings are like the cold now, or no, like measles. We have the answer but you fuckers are too stupid to use it.

So lets swat you. Lets have armed police come door to door and search your house like you're a black drug dealer. Lets have a war on fire arms. Lets have the NRA shut down and arrested as a terrorist organisation. After all guns killed more in America than terrorists have killed Americans. Your dogs and toddlers are killing you and you're telling me you just have a people problem?

Perhaps you're right? Maybe we should go further? Welcome you into the loving bosom of the United Kingdom again shall we? Teach you how to make proper tea and pay tax properly? Maybe we'll be able to let Scotland go, now we have our empire back? There'll be another revolution of course but what a fantastic opportunity to draw up a new constitution that fixes the corruption of your system? Of course there might be another civil war and ironically I think secession from the union is generally to be lauded, if so often racially motivated because you are a fucking continent. 

There are so many of you that even with proportional representation and multiple parties across the political spectrum the average vote would mean jack squat to who run the country. Hell, even we've fucked that up with first past the post and seemingly all of Scotland electing the SNP, only for them to be damn powerless in parliament and slaves to the tories.

This is why the Jedi are so important, this is why Batman is so important. American Pop Culture daring to say that there is another way to be cool and kick arse that isn't fucking guns. I weep for you. Or I would, but your foreign policy isn't exactly progressive...

I think I'm starting to understand why Kubrick felt the need to make Full Metal Jacket such a perfect display of the horror of war and gun fetishism and Spielberg's defence of Jaws as a PG, nobody can grow up to be a shark but anybody can pick up a gun and ruin lives.


Why talking about timetravel is depressing

Sunday, 27 December 2015

What Family Means To Me

What Family Means To Me


Aren’t I such a fuckup?

Alexander Gordon Jahans

Warning: I am about to show you my heart and soul in an attempt to understand myself. Look away if that’s too much for you if the feelings are too raw. This is not entertainment, this is therapy.

I am 23, I have graduated university, I finally have the testosterone I have been missing all these years. I should be a man, should get a job, should at least be trying to fall in love.

I am not.


Because I am broken and I am hurt.

I have been lied to, decieved, manipulated, betrayed and terrified by the people who call themselves my parents, and now I have pushed away the one member of my family that I do care about and I am raw.

I am a man of contradictions. I am the super ego and the id. I am the morality and reason and I am the anger, passion, lust, hunger and hatred.

I have been struggling to reconcile those halves of myself for as long as I can remember and have debates about which one is the real me. The Farsh-nuke personifies the id and the Doctor personifies the super ego (though ironically probably because the Doctor has the same struggle but one side won a long time ago).

The super ego understands love from definitions in the outside world. Love is supposed to be a bond of caring and compassion, of loyality, synergy and symbiosis. I have felt this. I have felt love like this. Not romantic love but familial love. Love for pets and friends. The protective love for the sister I have now come to hurt and seen the madness of my world infect.

The Id should feel love more keenly, should understand it better but time and again that word is used to describe malevolent actions, to describe great pain. Loss of pets, friends I don’t see anymore, the sudden betrayal or terrifying anger and violence of my parents, the grief and guilt at having hurt my sister and pushed her away. The pain of knowing I can never be a father like my father.

Which leads us to the crux of the matter. I hate my father. I hate all that he has done, all that he has become, I hate how he decieves, how he hurts. Yet his wretched behaviour works. So many times I have been the good little boy and espoused reason and morality and I have been ignored and manipulated while I have watched that vile creature keep things running. The washing up gets done, loo paper gets bought, bread and ham remains in the house and every so often my mother actually does as he asks...

I don’t know how I should be a man. I don’t know how to be a 21st century man. I don’t know what job I should do, what life I want to have or what sort of person I am. I don’t know. I DO NOT KNOW. And my mother wants an answer. She is freaking the fuck out that I don’t know. I want to tell her the answer. I want to tell her I know and I’ve got everything sorted but I can’t because I don’t. Yet she needs me to have it together. She needs a magic bullet, a pill to make everything better. This is a woman whose problems are solved by Doctors and counselling and she has anxiety and depression and she needs me to be her rock but I can’t because this mess is going to take time. This is not easy or fast. But she needs an answer, she demands an answer...

So I am now my dad. I am hard and cold and pragmatic and I don’t trust anyone and I react to situations with a raised voice because sometimes, very occasionally it works...

I can’t reason with a woman I don’t trust, who criticises my morality for not validating her lies, who thinks the sensible thing to do is keep pushing and leaning against a man who has so very little to live for. A woman who kicks me when I am down. A woman who criticises me for not being more pragmatic and greedy. A woman I have tried so many times to make see sense with reason only to be shouted down.

I am doing something I don’t like, something that makes me sick, something that makes me feel like a shithead but something that works...

If she just stayed away, if I could stop her bringing her - her bullshit - to my door... I should go, go far away and never look back. I understand now why my dad is so broken and I see that it doesn’t matter what man I become I will always have issues with my mum because she’s not going to change and I can’t make her understand how what she does is troubling to me. Love is a bond tying us to each other so we can keep hurting each other until one of us leaves.

I need to leave this place, need to leave these people, need to cut them off. I am the only one cold enough to do it. Us knowing each other just results in pain. It’s matter and antimatter, two things that are dangerously reactive. Her trying to kick me out at christmas was probably the sanest she’s ever been, just happened to be damn inconveniently timed.

Incidentally it now makes sense why I have such an interest with imbalanced power dynamics in relationships. It’s like my subconscious keeps looking for a way to make my parents relationship make sense. I could go into more but even for me this is saying too much about stuff that isn’t mine to tell.

The thing is that I do want to a family, I do want to belong. That’s what I had in Wolverhampton. That’s what I have at Nine Worlds Geek Fest, like minded people who I care about and can work well with. I want that. I need that. In a sense through the magic of the internet I still have that. I am still occasionally in touch with friends from Wolverhampton and Nine Worlds Geek Fest and it means a lot.

I am not someone who needs much, if any, social interaction to survive but if I have the right kind I light up like christmass tree. You see I want to make the most of my life, I want to be the best I can be, to give back to the world in the best way I can, I want to help people and make the world a better place, leave a positive legacy behind... So when I’m with the right people, when I click, when my cog is in just the right place to make the machine of society run better, I fucking love it and I will give all I can give.

I am not working. Literally and figuratively. I don’t belong and I should. I am broken and I need to heal. I don’t have a solution, I can’t reason my way around this. I just need to get out.

To my friends, I thank you and I love you, you make me better.

To my sister, I am sorry, I am so so sorry and I hope that one day when I’ve healed we can know each other again or indeed perhaps for the first time.

To my parents, I understand and I thank you for not letting me die.

Now I am going to finish skyrim, finish this story that is in many ways a love letter to skyrim and then I’m going to apply for job seeker’s allowance, a tefl internship and volunteering because fuck it the world is a corrupt and broken place and I need out so I will play it just enough to do so and man up.

The Exorcist extended cut review

Thursday, 24 December 2015

Merry Christmass 2015

Merry Christmass

Alexander Gordon Jahans

How the fuck do you round off this year? A clusterfuck of clusterfuckery, whining and pointless bullshit.

There's a passage in one of the Virgin New Adventures Doctor Who books where the seventh Doctor describes feeling like a hamster on a wheel whereby the faster he runs and the harder he fights the quicker bullshit crosses his path. I'm paraphrasing obviously but that's how I feel.

I have given up dreams of living a peaceful existence, of living in a world free from bullshit and drama. It will find me and it will try to break me. I am the eternal butt monkey, forever caught up in bullshit and clusterfuckery but I am hardened and I am stronger. And not just in a bad way...

There are monsters to be fought. There is some measure and definition of evil in the world: Corrupt politicians and racist police officers being two two biggest standouts of the year but least we forget amoral mega corporate entities that avoid tax and fuck up the planet and its people.

There are however also heroes: Jeremy Corbyn, Bernie Sanders and even Hilary Clinton. Yes, she may be a little on the edge but compared to the absolute insanity of the Republican Party, mere cold hearted pragmatism and corruption are minor character flaws.

There is hope. There is a movement for change.

The media, for all its many faults when it comes to reporting, is delivering us great fiction. Star Wars, Assassin's Creed (yes, I still like it), Fallout 4, The Witcher 3, Undertale, The Beginner's Guide, Spectre, Doctor Who (mostly not shit), Avengers Age of Ultron, Xmen Days of Future Past... 

I myself have discovered Many A True Nerd and Alex and Sharon Shaw of Digital Gonzo, Digital Drift and now School of Movies (so many awesome names, no many awesome podcasts). There have been more awesome Dissecting Worlds podcasts and more awesome videos by Vechz, Etho, Zisteau and Chuggaaconroy.

Also lest we forget the game that has been my life support system this past year, even though it is quite old now: The Elder Scrolls V Skyrim. Dragons, Vampires, mad gods, power mad cultists and racists demanding independence. Truly a masterful and amazing game, even if I did have to mod it a fair bit to reduce the aspects of it that I hate. My greatest tribute to Skyrim lies in a story I am still writing but it must be said. Bethesda, Nexus Mod Manager developers, thank you sincerely. I owe you so much.

I have grown so much this last year and it has been one hell of a hard road, one that I've spent screaming and shouting to you lot about and for that I am in equal parts grateful and sorry. I am resolved now though. 

I think I am finally beginning to see quality in my writing, quality that is perhaps worth refining with edits and proofreading. 

I am more at ease with who I am as a person. I understand myself a whole lot more now. Appropriately I think the Doctor summed it up best with Death in Heaven "I'm not a hero or a monster. I am an idiot, passing through and helping out where I can."

There is something I've been feeling for a while now, something that I've been trying to understand. At first I thought it was just wanting to die, then that it was nihilism or some pathetic cowardice to the responsibilities I owe the world but I think I understand it best now as an incorruptible strength of spirit. The Firefly theme best sums it up:

 Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand,
I don't care I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me.
Burn the land and boil the sea, 
You can't take the sky from me.

Take me out into the black, tell them I ain't coming back,
I don't care, I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me.

You see threats and insults don't hurt me anymore. I love life. I love every extra day, every extra hour. I love the boredom. I love the thinking. I love trying to see my head round the most insurmountable problems. I love that I am still here, I'm still writing, I'm still enjoying all that is still so good about the world. 

There is a lot of shit out there but there is a lot of love and laughter and joy too. 

The world has tried to break me too many times now, it may break my body, it may break my mind but it will never break my soul, will never break my morality, A man chooses, a slave obeys, well I am a man. I choose my destiny. I choose my fate and I choose not to care about the shit that crosses my path anymore while still choosing to care about the good in life and choosing to try and stop the shit from raining. I absolutely believe in the no win scenario and I will act with dignity and reason within such a situation but until I lose I am going to keep trying without fear of failure.

This christmass I am getting a new smart phone and I am finishing Skyrim. Do you know what that means? That means I can take off. I can be free. I've got a laptop and it's a damn good one, fairly certain it can run Oblivion or Morrowind and I know I can write on it, make videos with it. With my smartphone I can access wifi in libraries or pubs, connect to facebook use google and download podcasts. I am no longer tied to my safe space, I am no longer trapped within it.

I am going to learn to drive and going to get a job or an internship far away from this mad house. I will keep my life with me, I will keep my podcasts, my friends, my writing, my accidental media empire and my games with me.

This christmass I am free in a way I have not been for a hell of a long time. I am not the pathetic weakling I once was, I do not need to fear the outside world like I once did.

Well done everyone, we are halfway out of the dark!

Have a merry christmass and a happy new year. I know I will.

Tuesday, 22 December 2015



Alexander Gordon Jahans

We begin with a dreadful unavoidable admission:

I am become darkness.
I am the man in black.
I am he that shouts in the night.
I am feared.
I am loathed.
I am the monster.

This is an unavoidable fact of the effect I am having on this house and it is not good. My instinct is the draw away, to hide away, to run away. Except this is my family at christmass...

I cannot run away from this demon because the demon is me and I cannot cage this demon because the demon is not some anger, is not some dangerous emotion. It is ignorance. You cannot fight ignorance with force and you cannot run from ignorance. Not when it's your own

I want to make excuses, I want to make justifications but I cannot change a fact by explaining why it happened.

This past year has felt like a test, a test of my morality, of my endurance, of my anger, of my will to survive. I have passed the tests by trusting in myself, by trusting in my morality, in my imagination, in my hope and dreams. Now I face the final and most cutting test, the test of the self the ability to express that self. 

I am the bad guy in this, I am the dragon to be defeated but I'm not the test itself. Nor am I consequences if I fail. I am at risk of becoming my father in my mother's eyes and she is not about to let a new dick bag get up off the steps when she's barely just defeated the last one. In a way her purpose is entirely noble but something I have learned is that she is selfish, amoral and hypocritical. She doesn't fight, not how dad does. She is a very skillful liar and she exploits information. She literally cannot comprehend my desire not to lie. She crossed a line recently, a line that has made her a credible threat now. A minor kerfuffle that seemed to resolve peacefully only for her to decide to evict me. She is now trying to break me. To destroy the threat that I hypothetically represent to her.

I don't work in darkness, I don't lie but to defeat the threat my mother poses to me I will have to embrace and wield the skills of deception. This isn't about getting to her or hurting her or anything like that. Do not misunderstand me. It is about understanding and countering her ability to misread a situation. I have tried being truthful to her. A lot. For a woman who responds to outrage at a lie with "I shouldn't have told you." I must seem remarkably naive. She lies to me, she plays mind games and manipulates, she expects me to be manipulating her all the time and is perpetually stunned when I am not.

I have avoided using my words as a weapon avoided, using social skills as a weapon, partly because I have a natural handicap in that area but mostly because my hero is the seventh Doctor and so I know all too well the danger of that rabbit hole. I've made mention before about how I like to be ignorant of fighting in case, God Forbid, I ever was made truly angry but there is a limit on how much damage one man can do, especially if driven by a barbarian rage. If you master the art of manipulation and lying though then you really better hope you never go bad. I mean The seventh Doctor is a character angsting about the morality of playing chess master for the greater good but Palpatine in the Prequels shows just how bad a bad manipulator can go.

Do you want to know the really ironic thing though? A point my mum has bought up for why I need to conquer this demon is that I may have a moral code and experience preventing me from ever physically hurting anyone but she and my family don't that, hence why they're afraid of me when I'm being all moody and shouty. If I do this, if I manage to master body language and social skills, then they'll have even less clue about my intentions. In order to stop feeling afraid of me when I'm angry they want me to master the art of seeming perfectly calm and amenable even if I might be seething inside so that they won't think anything is wrong.

This to me feels like a ridiculously stupid and dangerous thing to do. That said, I need to do it. I can no longer remain ignorant. I do not have the luxury of trust. I have to believe in myself and my moral certitude. I have to know that I am a good guy even I am utilising skills that could be misused. I have to be able to live my life in such a way that those close to me aren't afraid, even if it means becoming someone who could be so much more terrifying and this is the only time I can. I have already become the monster in the eyes of my family, I can't fall much further and still call myself Alex Jahans. Time to embrace and use darkness, lies and manipulation.

If I am to step into the shadows though then I make this promise in the light:

I may disguise the truth to spare feelings but I will never leave another so ill informed as to be unable to act.
I may temper my manner to put others at ease but I will indicate with increasing clarity when things are getting too much for me.
I will not deceive or manipulate for personal gain.
I will use only as much deception as necessary to ensure survival and the continuing of business, never because it is easy or convenient.
If I ever have to use my skills to remove a threat then they will get three warnings before I act.

I will update this code and I will always ensure that this code is kept in the light. I may have to develop and use these skills to keep my family safe from the fear of me but I will not let these skills corrupt me.

Tuesday, 15 December 2015

Skyrim mods

As I play Skyrim a lot and I know others who are getting into it I present a list of recommended mods. This works best if you use steam and the nexus modding app

I have the dawnguard dlc and play on a HP Pavillion p6-2054uk

So lets start off with the essentials:

Sky UI - so many mods need this to function, even if I prefer the default UI

Skyrim Script Extender - Again needed to let other mods work (including Sky UI)

FISS - Backend stuff to make other mods work

Rotating Quicksave - Useful to allow for save scumming without fear of getting trapped in an instagib situation. Skyrim does have autosaves to fulfill much the same function but having a staggered fall back of quick saves can honestly be such a life saver. No fear of accidentally breaking the game by saving in the wrong place thanks to this

Now lets get into the cool but optional stuff:

Player House Markers - Just for convenience but useful to prevent things spawning until you've had a chance to drop your loot off

Leather Backpack - adds 300 to your carry capacity. Kind of cheating but essential until you've got the first house in breezehome because getting 5000 gold that early is hard and you really want to level up your speech so you need the linen wraps and pots and that means you are going to be crawling everywhere until you have somewhere to dump stuff off. Or maybe I have a problem...

A Matter of Time - adds a clock overlay to the gui. You can set it to display real world time, something important to prevent getting too immersed so you're aware of how much time is passing.

Instant Mining - watching a cutscene of mining is not my idea of fun. This will mine ores instantly when you click on them

Smelters for Riften and Solitude - Solitude has my favourite home in Skyrim, Proudspire Manor so naturally I want a smelter there and Riften is the home from home since if you want to level pickpocketing, sneaking and speech or any of the things that require money you'll want the thieves guild services

Athletics Training - This is supposed to be like Oblivion and Morrowind but I haven't played them yet (Soon!) all I know is I saw Zisteau use this in his letsplay series and I had to try it. I only really played minecraft before Skyrim so I love being able to jump so high (when fully levelled) and this adds sprint jumping at the appropriate levels, even running on water, appropriate for the dragonborn. This just a really fun mod

So here are the mods I have installed because I don't like it when characters I care about die. (I say as the man whose idea of a happy ending to The Contravoxai Survivor is the main character getting eaten alive for all eternity along with his wife and best friends...)

Army Reforms Tougher Guards and Soldiers - This makes the red shirt mooks I don't care about be better able to handle the various vampire and dragon attacks that can happen. May be a slight issue in early game if you like to pick fights with guards but I don't. I'm with the empire because Ulfric Stormcloak is a patsy of the Thalmor.

Essentialize Spells - Just use essentialize and deessentialise they'll be classed as novice alteration spells. Stops characters you like from dying by letting you cast an essentialize spell on them. You can use the deessentialize spell when you reach a hundred pickpocket to let you steal clothes from them later, if you want. Not saying I did. I mean I think you know from my writing that I am so much more mature than that...

Resurrection Spell - I installed this after I got trapped in a no win scenario with vampires in Solitude, trapped in my house lest the vampires get the people I care about. I was too late but only one person died and had their body moved before I could revive them but thanks to this Alvor lives again. Also the resurrection restores an npc to their default inventory so I suppose if you come to regret stealing an npcs clothes you could deessentialize them, stealth kill them resurrect them and reessentialize them. I've probably put too much thought into this. For me I think it fits lore wise since I am now the arch mage of winterhold and can resurrect someone as a permanent zombie thanks to having 90 conjuration.

Now the Cheatey McCheaterson of Cheaterton, Cheatershire, Cheaterdom, perk unlocking mods:

Automatic Perk Unlocking by level - This automatically unlocks perks by level and honestly it's kind of removed the fun of perks for me but it's simple and it works. If you just want to reach a hundred in all skills, get all perks and finish all non radiant quests this one is for you. To be honest thre  only reason I'm okay with this is that I have played through the beginning of skyrim five times by now so I feel like as a player I've done enough grinding.

Dragon Blood - This annoyed me when I first tried it for a reason I know actually love. This will drop a magical dragon blood potion which will give you a perk point but not all the time. You have to kill a lot of dragons to get all the perks.

Perk Potion - Adds an extremely expensive perk potion (which makes sense lore wise if you have the dragon blood mod) and I now finally am at that point in the game where I am regularly making enough money to buy tons of these perk potions (BUT THERE'S NO NEED AS I HAVE AUTOMATIC PERK UNLOCKING GRRR!!! FUCK CAPITALISM!)

Dragonsouls to Perks - You're killing tons of dragons to get their blood. you're going to have a lot of souls, this lets you exchange them for perks. Again these three are cheatey but compared to automatic perk unlocking you're damn well earning your perks.

And finally...
You're in the late game you've maxed Illusion, Alteration, Pickpocketing, Sneaking, Smithing, Enchanting, Alchemy and Speech. Two handed, One Handed and Archery are in the seventies Restoration and Conjuration are in the fifties but now you've got to get your armor ratings and block and destruction spells to max and who the hell has time for that. Enter configurable training per level. Never tried it. Could break the game but I think it's probably fine.


The Contravoxai Survivor Audiobook Part 4 nsfw

Sunday, 13 December 2015

The Contravoxai Survivor Audiobook Part 2 nsfw

An explanation and resolution of sorts nsfw Doctor Who stuff

An explanation and resolution of sorts...

Alexander Gordon Jahans

I am an angst ridden individual, I think that if a day goes by when I don't hate myself, hate my life, hate the world or generally worry about how some stupid inconsequential shit means I am Lucifer's forbidden love child then you should probably put a bullet in my brain because if I am ever entirely happy with things clearly I am no longer myself and have succumbed to the evil lurking inside my soul. Said the self loathing paranoid writer... So anyway a while back I wrote a few pieces basically saying "testosterone is making me really like women, eek" and then I wrote a piece detailing the dangerous temptation posed by Logicular Replication i.e. the idea that quantum teleportation could be achieved without destroying the original.

Then Steven Moffat wrote Heaven Sent and Hell Bent and sort of everything changed.

Now a brief primer: 
Quantum Teleportation is how we in the real world might concievably do teleportation. i.e. disappears here, reappears there. It is called Quantum Teleportation because this guy called Heisenberg worked out that really small chaotic things are really hard to measure accurately. Bit of a problem if you want to make sure Captain Kirk arrives on the Enterprise with his spleen in the right place. Luckily some other scientists found a way around this called Quantum Entanglement which is very complex but the long and short of it is that Quantum Teleportation is destroyed here, recreated there. Philosophers after lots of deep thought and discussion have basically said that's okay because it's the information that is you. Not the matter. The debate still rages though.

Logicular Replication is basically the same but with magic tech that lets you take a scan without destroying the original. Thus you can essentially use a teleporter to print out copies of people on demand as you feel like it. In my essay I went deep into the ethical questions this raises but basically shrugged and said "Philosophers say it's okay, so it's okay right?"

Then Heaven Sent comes along:

The whole twist and reveal of the story is that the timelords, the most powerful beings in the whole multiverse give or take a few other contenders, use Logicular Replication as interrogation/torture or even potentially transport. Now I love that story, best Moffat writing ever. Yet it presents an answer to the quandary. Logicular Replication must be okay because A. The Doctor never freaks out about being a clone and B. if Logicular Replication isn't okay then Face The Raven is the canonical death of the Doctor.

I know I'm using Doctor Who to answer a complex philosophical conundrum that is ultimately subjective but this is important for reasons that will become clear in a moment.

Then Hell Bent comes along and I love it, despite the fact that it is utterly crap because the characters and actors and actresses utterly sell it and that last shot of an immortal ever young Clara in a waitress uniform, heading off in a tardis for adventures new, that is awesome and adorable and will stay with me for such a long time as really powerful image of hope and excitement even despite horrific loss and suffering. Plus it is just really hot. That is the tardis I want. Sod Matt Smith, give me Jenna Louise Coleman and the restaurant at the end of the universe.

There is a problem though. Clara is dead. I don't just mean she's fated to be killed by the raven either. I mean she is a normal human woman who is known to be a close associate of the Doctor, her existence threatens all of time and space and she loves poking her nose into danger. Also she has no pulse. Her wounds won't clot. I have no idea how she can still think. Presumably there's some microchip in her brain and some fancy time manipulation going on there so that there's a loop of so many milliseconds during which sensory data can be taken in and the microchip parses it all out so she can continue to function as though her brain weren't also looped to however many milliseconds. Zarquon I'm fascinated by the science of how Clara works but however it does she is still a target who walks willingly into danger, could break all of time and space and can't regenerate or heal like Captain Jack and Ashildr.

Enter my fanfic The Many Claras. I have no doubt that some day Big Finish will do an interesting series and there will be some heart wrenching "final" story where a demoralised and broken Clara finally resolves to face the raven but immortal ever young Clara? I like that, I really like that and hey she's left the series so she won't be coming back any time soon and I do just happen to have this character called the Bam-Kursh who was inspired by the Master and Missy...

So in my fanfic the Bam-Kursh comes along, now quite experienced at turning women into toys, and here comes immortal ever young inquisitive Clara. QED Clara's scanned and delivered to face her death before the Raven before all time breaks but she also lives and gets to fly away in her tardis, now freed from the timeloop restrictions and... other things also happen to her, because of the very same technology that started the whole mess: Logicular Replication.

A friend of mine asked why the villain cared about consent in this scenario, that's because in this scenario the Bam-Kursh really isn't the villain, she is using techniques timelords have that, yes, the Doctor may be annoyed about but that implicitly must be okay because otherwise Face The Raven is the canonical death of the Doctor. 

Now I'll grant you that turning Clara into a toy to sell is evil. That's why the Bam-Kursh is the Master to the Farsh-nuke's Doctor. She needs to be that much more than the Farsh-nuke to make him look good by comparison. But also she needs Clara to consent because that's sort of the point of her, or indeed Lisa, Lucy or any of the others becoming toys. There is a certain amount of mind alteration and chemical changes that prospective toys go through but fundamentally if the people didn't consent it wouldn't work. Toys are made nigh indestructable, find pain pleasurable and avoid 'And I Must Scream' scenarios courtesy of their mind off switches. If Clara didn't consent then the first thing that would happen upon becoming a toy is "I'm immortal now and you've just given me an army, thanks for that but basically run."

The Bam-Kursh's activities absolutely make her an abhorrent monster but if she didn't care about consent she would be in for an awful lot of pain.

I actually think this is a very happy ending for Clara. She isn't trapped as a time looped abomination and she no longer has the raven ahead of her. Clara is absolutely free at the end of the story to go on travelling in her tardis and live a normal life because the timelords won't be hunting her anymore. Now yes the Claras that are toys, they probably aren't all going to have good lives but they consented and barring stars, black holes and septagonoid weaponry they'll be fine. The Clara given to Frederick to become a sylph will probably have a very good life as what Farsh-nuke would risk upsetting the Doctor.

The only Clara that really suffers is the one who joins Helga and Eliza at their pub. That one is definitely motivated by sadism on the Bam-Kursh's part. However the Contravoxai Survivor shows that for wereshark sylphs being eaten alive every day really is a perfectly good life and she'll have a strong family of friends to welcome her and make her feel at home. If she ever does feel like wandering or that the life isn't enough for her she knows Eliza, a very powerful woman who could easily set her up with a Seghat, in which case you have a far more powerful Clara exploring the whole multiverse and yes, it's arguable that the multiverse is even more likely to be out to get her by sheer virtue of the fact that she is a beautiful woman and now also a sylph, but I think she'd be free to do as she pleased.

So I'm working on a thing right now with my take on the Culture, by Iain M Banks, and the Grafilods but why it's relevant here is that at the end the Bam-Kursh sees how popular the wereshark sylphs are and decides to sell them as almost chickens for those who want fresh eggs at home. After all the Bam-Kursh is selling people as toys and now on the Contravoxai Flagship she's seeing how people are making a profit by charging per meal made from the wereshark sylphs. I haven't worked out the details yet but I am fairly certain that if this story comes through the Bam-Kursh will be finding ways to sell all the people she's made into toys as food stuffs and if that happens Clara is home free. I mean if you're a Logicio are you going to hunt the woman who has taken on the Daleks and the Great Intelligence, or are you going to just pop to the shops and buy a copy of her that'll happily let you turn her into soup?

Or maybe I am thinking waaay too much about this? Perhaps it's okay because the Clara that all this happens to comes from a universe where she was naturally quite kinky and thus predisposed to the Bam-Kursh's plans? Or maybe the Doctor just intercepts the toys and cattle as they head to market and litters them throughout the multiverse then shuts down the Bam-Kursh's operation? Yeah that last one's not likely.

In any case for good or for ill I have come to terms with the fact that I write very weird fiction and I'm actually okay with that. It is my head canon that Clara got intercepted by the Bam-Kursh and many fun and weird times followed after. Just because an idea may be formed by a villain does not mean that the lifestyle formed by that idea would be that bad. Or maybe I am revealing a touch more than I intend? (I say sidestepping The Consumption Of Me and The Taming Of Me)

Incidentally why didn't the Doctor just hook the teleportation chamber up to the power of the tardis? Then there could be an infinite of Doctors and Claras... Oh right, that's because Moffat uses technology to serve the plot and doesn't consider how that technology could actually be used outside of his plot. The timelords have this technology. Why didn't they just say "Hey Doctor, we can't get Clara back, that would break time but we can 'teleport' her like we did you"? Again, because it would break the plot and I love that ending but seriously why didn't Rassillon just give the Doctor his puppy back? 

Anyway I love immortal Clara but that ending made no sense, I much prefer mine. Also I may or may not want my own wereshark sylph Clara, I mean submissive immortal Clara who can turn into a shark, that is so cool.

Okay, I'm shutting up now. 

Apologies to Jenna Louise Coleman if she ever his the misfortune to stumble across this.

Friday, 11 December 2015

The Many Claras distraction fic trailer

The Many Claras nsfw

I couldn’t help myself...
My deepest apologies to everyone who has ever been involved with the show or ever will be.

Not Safe For Work
A Doctor Who Distraction Fic

The Many Claras

Alexander Gordon Jahans

In the Earth year 2017, roughly 700,000 ttimes the span of the observable universe away from Earth is a small unregarded trinary star system around which orbit 7 planets and orbiting one of them is a moon with a rather odd property. It’s core is made of such a strange mix of chemicals as to sustain an open rift in fabric of space time, a rift beyond the void of logic divide the beautiful majesty of the Great Green Nothingness. About this rift has formed the noble trading city of Terrapoosh.

Clara is travelling on her own and has been for some time. She almost can’t remember her brief time with the timelord known as the Doctor any more. The only reason she hasn’t forgotten entirely is that she still has no pulse and that continual reminder that she is broken and caught in a catch in continuity before her inevitable death haunts her. The clock in San Dimas has been stopped and its pendulum held. The raven that could make a dalek scared enough to live in piece stays held in place, caught, waiting for her to accept her death. But the Doctor never accepted death when another option was on the table so why the hell should she?

She was wearing long coat over a three piece suit as she strode through the market and heard some mad Scottish woman regale the enraptured crowds. “Your very own toy woman. Tamed by my own fair hand, entirely consenting and perked up with a concoction of my own devising to ensure they will never spoil or suffer nor wreck your mood with any unwanted jibber jabber thanks to a handy dandy toggle switch for their minds!”

Clara sighed. She supposed she should intervene. Be a hero. But... fuck it, she just wanted a pasty and a sunset while the tardis recharged at the rift.

“For delectation and delight I present Lisa, Lucy, Amy, Carla, Fiora, Roxy, Felicity and the amazing Sammy! Yours for only the price of a small war ship!” said the trader.

A short green skinned person with vertically closing eyelids looked sideways and the dark skinned Roxy and asked “To yu to kradeet?”

“Maybe...” said the trader with a twinking smile “There are other other ways to pay. Take that lady for instance!”

Clara heard a loud intake of breath and froze.

“Yes you, madam in the long coat!” said the trader affirmatively “Come up on stage, there’s a good girl.”

Clara bit her lip. She wasn’t in the mood. She wasn’t the Doctor. She had made no promises. She wanted to walk away. To get some noms then get to fuck... but that charlatan had just decided to patronise her...

Clara turned, smiling, all sweetness and light. “Me?”

“Yes!” said the trader, waving eagerly “Now come along, I don’t bite. Not until the ink’s dried on the contracts anyway.”

Fine. Time to tear down this woman’s world.

Clara walked over to the trader and tried to look curious, innocent and naive with just enough fight to make it look believable. Her mind meanwhile had been honed by centuries of adventures.

The trader had curly ginger hair worn in a bun under an askew hat with a feather in it. She wore a long victorian era ballgown dress with a corset that flared outwards to hide her legs. She seemed genuinely interested in Clara, at least in so far as how she could aid her business, but was undeniably playing up to the crowd and had clearly given this speech many times before.

The trader took Clara’s hand and welcomed her up on stage “Thank you. Now, my dear, what is your name?”

“Clara” said Clara, with a nervous smile like a gameshow contestant.

“Clara, thank you.” said the trader, pausing briefly to address the crowd.

Clara took the opportunity to scan her surroundings. They where on a short stage with a microphone before them and behind them the toys were arrayed. 8 women, 6 blonde haired and light skinned, though one looked rather broad chested to fit typical mold, one pale skinned ginger woman and one dark skinned brunette. Well at least Clara would add some variety to the collection she supposed.

“There is one way to pay for my goods if you are rather short on cash.” said the trader “Lend me a volunteer, such as this fair lady. The larger my product range, the greater the chance that someone will buy.”

Clara had to chuckle at that.

“Something funny, my dear?” asked the trader.

“Yeah, you could say that.” said Clara deciding she was done playing along “You do realise that this is fucking slavery and you will be stopped.”

The trader chuckled and laid a comforting hand on the nape of Clara’s neck, that exerted just enough pressure to inform her that shutting up and not moving would be wise. “Okay, why don’t you take a little time out and we can talk about this later. What I am doing is entirely above board and legal under the United Civilisations of the Multiverse. I can assure you that consent is king.”

An ood raised its forebrain and said “The human has a point. Selling sentient creatures is wrong.”

The trader smiled at the ood “Oh but they aren’t sentient, not by the time I’m done with them. They can be sentient in time with love, care and affection but that is not the intention. They are meant to be used and abused and created for that purpose. Lisa, darling, would you come out here?”

Clara watched as a blonde woman in flipflops, a short skirt and a croptop walked out from behind the display of herself.

“This is my first.” said the trader with a wistful smile as she gestured to the woman, Lisa “I never understood how the Farsh-nuke managed to fall in love with his playthings but she showed me the answer.”

Lisa blushed and took the trader’s hand.

“She was a student in architectural design and before my work was done she became a great architect and now, because of our work together, I can do this.” The trader pulled an axe out of her jacket pocket and brought the cutting edge to bare on Lisa’s neck.

Lisa’s rolled before the feet of a Tivoli, a rat like race of humanoids whose home planet had been invaded so often they had adapted to survival through exploitability.

Lisa blinked and said “That was fun.”

The Tivoli shivered and the crowd applauded.

The Tivoli raised up a hand and asked “Could I volunteer?”

The trader laughed then said “Well I’m not sure I vould really sell you across the rest of the multiverse. From what I gather there maybe a few copyright issues with your species but I may be able to do a custom non profit job for someone so willing and speaking of which -”

Clara’s world went dark.


Clara woke up, fully clothed sitting in an armchair in a library with the trader and Lisa sitting opposite her. Lisa was thankfully in one piece again.

“Are you okay?” asked the Lisa.

The trader was studying Clara somberly.

“What?” said Clara “Yes. No. What’s going on?”

“You’re safe.” said the trader “For now.”

Clara swallowed. Okay, the interrogation scene, probably going to be some torture now.

“It’s going to be okay.” said Lisa “Mistress can be scary but she won’t hurt you, not until she knows you can take it. She just wants to ask you some questions okay?”

Clara froze “Mistress? Missy? Oh god, it all makes sense! Look at you, tall, mad, charismatic, scary, using people.”

The trader sighed “I have no idea who this Missy is...” the trader leaned forward and looked Clara in the eyes “What I do know is that it is an awful coincidence that I, with my particular set of skills, should happen to stumble upon such a perfect doll with her time stopped.”

“Pardon?” said Clara.

The trader flashed a smile and leaned back. “Cute.”

“What is she talking about?” asked Clara of Lisa.

Lisa shrugged “I think she means that you’re special.”

The trader snorted.

Clara shrugged and looked wide eyed “Well, what can I say there’s nothing special about me?”

“You have no pulse.” said the trader.

Clara chuckled “Lots of planets have people with no pulses.”

The trader rolled her eyes.


Clara smiled disarmingly. “I mean you don’t know, can’t have seen them all...”

“I don’t need to.” said the trader “I can read your soul like it’s a novel. Your time has been stopped. That is some very particular, high level logic manipulation. You are thinking, your brain is working. Your nerves are sending and recieving signals. Yet you don’t need to breathe and you have no pulse. You are a woman out of time and without time, yet able to percieve it and affect it. It takes some serious technology to fuck up a person as thoroughly as you have been fucked up. What I want to know is why.”

The trader leaned forward “What are you? A trick? A trap? Who sends me an impossible girl?”

Clara stared at her and asked “Can you help me?”

“Yes.” said the trader “I should think I can guarrantee that but why would you need my help.”

Clara bit her lip as she thought for a long moment then she said and said “There was a man. A brilliant man. An amazing man. A really strange man. We travelled time and space together, saving each other’s lives and those around us until one day I made a mistake and I died. To these strange raven things. I had a kind of magic tattoo counting down to my death.”

“So what happened?” asked the trader “I notice the tattoo is still there.”

“I got myself killed during some scheme to get this man into a place where he could be interrogated about a prophecy. The prophecy is bullshit but the point is that this scheme really really pissed my man off and they had just happened to deliver him into the one place where he could bring me back on the brink of death. Apparently it had been done to him once before.” said Clara “I’ve been travelling without him ever since.”

The trader nodded “Well I think I can help you, help your friend too. What was this place?”

“Hold on...” said Clara, showing the palms of her hands “I’m not just going to tell nobody about the reason I am still alive.”

“Okay.” said the trader extending a hand towards Clara “I am the Bam-Kursh, I am cousin to the Farsh-nuke, champion of the United Civilizations of the Multiverse and the great Toy Maker.”

“Sooo... Not Missy then?” clarified Clara as she shook her hand.

“No, not Missy.” said the Bam-Kursh pulling a face.

Clara breathed a sigh of relief “His name is the Doctor, the place is Gallifrey and the people are the timelords.”

“Never heard of them.” said the Bam-Kursh “But thank you for telling me. I know what to look for now. Sleep tight, little one.”

Clara stared at the Bam-Kursh as she rose from her armchair, then sleep overcame Clara.


She woke to find the Bam-Kursh sitting before her once more in the library.

“Morning.” said the Bam-Kursh.

Clara blinked and wanted to stretch her legs “Oh, we’re still here.”

“Yes, but not for much longer.” said the Bam-Kursh. “I’ve done some researching on the topics of timelords, prophecies and time stopped individuals. I have good news and bad news.”

Clara stared at her. “Such as?”

“You need to die. You really need to die.” said the Bam-Kursh “Your death is key to the timeline of the complex space time event known as the Doctor. Unravel that timeline, even a little, and the whole universe goes phoom and takes out a few hundred either side for good measure. You are not worth that.”

Clara swallowed “Please tell me that wasn’t the good news?”

The Bam-Kursh snorted. “Of course not. The good news is that Clara Oswald can live on after you die but you have to trust me.”

Clara stared at her “Trust the woman who sells women as toys? You have to be kidding me?”

The Bam-Kursh shrugged “Fair enough. Sorry about the whole having to take you to your death thing but it seems like I’m the only person willing to brave the Doctor’s wrath for the sake of the universe -”

“Hold on!” cried Clara.

The Bam-Kursh paused and looked questioningly at Clara.

“If I am dead anyway, I guess I can trust you.” said Clara.

The Bam-Kursh smiled. “Thank you.”

“So what’s your plan?” asked Clara.

“I can turn your mind on and off remotely with my Quantum Oscillator.” Explained the Bam-Kursh “I can turn you off then create duplicates using an extrapolation of teleportation technology, when I turn on each duplicate they will think they are you. You will be delivered to die at the proper time but one copy will be allowed to fly off in her tardis free as a bird and the other, the other will stay with me.”

Clara swallowed then said “Your payment for services rendered I take it.”

“I am risking the wrath of a man who topples empires for fun.” said the Bam-Kursh “I fully intend to patent you and exploit the ever loving shit out of that patent.”

Then the Bam-Kursh softened and sighed “But I did mean what I said Clara. Consent is king. You will walk with me every step of the way. Even to the cooking pot.”

Clara regarded the Bam-Kursh for a long moment then sighed “Fine. Fine. Just. Just, lets get this over with shall we?”

The Bam-Kursh nodded then said “Come with me.” as she rose from her armchair.


Clara stood in the teleportation chamber, wearing replica clothes to what she had worn when she’d died. “So this is it? Now I die?”

The Bam-Kursh nodded “But now you will also begin many new lives.”

“Okay...” said Clara with a shrug “Geronimo, I guess.”

The Bam-Kursh nodded curtly.

Clara blacked out.


Clara woke, screaming as she died an agonising death, a death that would cause the lives she would also now lead.


Clara woke to find the Bam-Kursh grinning at her.

“Not dead.” said Clara “That’s good.”

The Bam-Kursh nodded.

“Okay getting slightly creeped out by how happy you are seeming.” said Clara “I take this means I’m your payment?”

The Bam-Kursh booped Clara’s nose “You, my precious, little, complex, space time event, are to be my toy. Come let us begin.”

The Bam-Kursh offered Clara her hand.

Clara looked first at the hand then at the Bam-Kursh’s gleeful face “You’ll stop if I don’t like it?”

“Of course.” said the Bam-Kursh.

Clara took her hand “Then lead on.”


Clara woke to find she was looking at herself. The copy of her wore an absurdly tiny amount of clothes and was smiling vacantly.

“I hope you approve.” said the Bam-Kursh “You took me a while but I got you remade in the end. Might give one to the Farsh-nuke, from what I recall, he seemed to like this Doctor character.”

“Am I that gift?” asked Clara irritated.

“Oh no” said the Bam-Kursh “Your clothes are where you left them. Keep adventuring.”

Clara nodded and walked past herself and the Bam-Kursh.


Clara woke to find herself looking at a strangely dressed man. “Doctor?”

“Frederick Hamish Pearson” said the man extending his hand.

Clara shook it “Clara Oswald, how may I be of service?”

Frederick said “The Bam-Kursh told me you were interested in becoming a sylph?”

“Umm...yes.” said Clara “There’s just one small thing. What’s a sylph?”

“Oh... Oh I am sorry. She keeps trying to set me up with women. I think she’s got the hots for me. I’ll be going now.” said Frederick as he made to leave.

Clara laid a hand on his arm. “No, I want to know. I’m interested. I just... want you to tell me?”

“Oh...” said Frederick with realisation “You’re playing dumb because this is your fantasy isn’t it?”

“Yes! Yes, exactly!” cried Clara with relief “I just really want this to feel real you know? So about that explanation...”

Frederick grinned and started to explain “Well you see there was this dying race...”


Clara woke to find the Bam-Kursh regarding her like an old friend. “Come on, Clara, I’ve just turned the toy I made of you into a hat stand and quite frankly I’m rather bored of you now but there is one last thing you can do for me.”

“Okay...” said Clara.

The Bam-Kursh turned and walked out the door of the teleportation chamber.

Clara followed and asked “What is it? What’s this last thing?”

“The reason I first noticed you.” said the Bam-Kursh wistfully “So strong, so powerful, such a don’t give a fuck attitude. I saw that and I fought how funny it would be to see you in a cooking pot.”

Clara was shocked “What?”

The Bam-Kursh laughed as she led Clara through her ship “Don’t worry, you will enjoy it and you will heal. To you it will be an experience better than sex.” the Bam-Kursh paused as she realised “I guess that makes me your pimp?” then she laughed “In any case where Prometheus had his liver eaten every day and called it hell, you will have everything bar your brain and three hearts eaten or removed every day and call it heaven.”

Bam-Kursh pushed open the door of her ship and announced “Clara I give you the world of the Contravoxai and Vligury.

Clara walked out through the door and saw a great fancy restaurant where tentacled aliens and people dined together. Then she noticed the tentacled aliens eating people who were served to them by waiters and waitresses. People served up in soup bowls, roasted live or even skewered through with a spit and left to roast over an open flame and all alive and loving it.

The Bam-Kursh clapped a hand on Clara’s shoulder “Are you alright?”

“Yeah...” lied Clara.

The Bam-Kursh introduced a slight brunette “This is Eliza, she’s umm, she’s quite powerful, got some neat tricks she can show you later. What matters is that she is going to be your owner. You come to her with troubles and she will sort you out okay?”

Clara stared at the Bam-Kursh “I thought you didn’t care.”

The Bam-Kursh shrugged “It’s only fun if you’re okay. Now, look her in the eyes and drink this.”

Clara nodded and looked Eliza in the eyes as she knocked back the foul smelling concoction. A stupid grin spread across her face as it took hold and imprinted Eliza upon her.

Eliza stroked Clara’s hair and said “Honey, I need you to remove your clothes for me okay?”

Clara nodded and did as she was told.

Eliza called a naked woman over and stabbed her in the hand then she sliced open the palm of Clara’s left hand with the bloodied knife.

“That’s mixing your blood with that of a wereshark, give you its healing factor. The desire to be exploited given to you by becoming a sylph will counteract the homicidal madness of the wereshark.” explained the Bam-Kursh.

Clara’s palm healed completely in moments.

Eliza smiled “You’re all ready to begin your life here. Just one thing remains.”

Clara asked “What?”

“Her payment.” said Eliza.

Clara giggled.

Eliza hugged Clara.

The Bam-Kursh sliced off Clara’s arms and legs.

Clara shrieked, not prepared for the sudden jolts of joy that prompted.

Eliza stowed Clara under the counter and shushed her then had her arms and legs deep fried for the Bam-Kursh.

The Bam-Kursh left without saying goodbye. She didn’t need to. She knew now that this particular Clara would spend an eternity in the cooking pot for kicks and laughed long and hard about that.

Thursday, 10 December 2015

America I pity you

Should I stay or should I go?

Should I stay or should I go?

Alexander Gordon Jahans

So two things happened today: The first was that I had a migraine. The second was that some idiot tried to debate politics with me while I was playing Skyrim.

Now, no big deal right, I get migraines all the time, it's like huh what and trolls getting to me is just like rain, so what and I'm certain I can find a way to block all messages on steam and at least he was reasonably civil and had the good sense to actually fuck off before I blocked him.

Yet, I'm supposed to be over this. I'm supposed to be king of the castle, well king of a sinking ship in shark infested waters more like but still... I'm supposed to be on top of this and just being in this house makes me ill. It's stagnant and stale and I'm actually one of the cleaner members of this house. And it's stupid but Skyrim is my escape from this house. This is something so immersive that I am wired in and quitting takes a seeming age, I actually had to get a mod to display real world time on the GUI so I don't completely become a vegetable before it and still they come...

I always thought zombies would scare me and I love World War Z but zombies themselves are just a bit shit. Yeah they are hungry violent rotting humans but there's no intellect there. That's why Triffids still scare me, well living surrounded by nature and dealing with fucking brambles also helps but trolls are the conceptual terror of the Triffid combined with the relentless shambling ever present threat of the zombie. I am still that victim in Woking High School. I am a great chum ball and the sharks are forever coming. It's not about the individuals, it's not about what they have to say, it's about the fact that they are fucking everywhere and they will not shut the fuck up. I have made approved comments only on my youtube channel and I am so glad but you see these aren't just zombies, they're smart, or at least they show a worrying possibility of looking smart. They don't care about affecting anybody else, they just want to get to me, or at least they seem to. And now they've gotten to me where I feel safest. Not. Good. 

And I know saying this will only further bait the horde to attack at the weak spot. No wonder the GamersGate movemrent is filled with such vitriol. Gamers have been programmed by decades of gaming to attack its weakspot, to the point where first Bioshock and then Spec Ops The Line have broken the fourth wall to address the gamers mindless need to attack the obvious weakness and follow the obvious quest objective, no matter the reasoning why. And that is, after all, all a troll is: "Don't do the thing." "I'm doing the thing."

The knowledge doesn't stop it being very fucking annoying.  


I was feeling triumphant yesterday at finally being back on top. 

And I still am.

I could be very comfortable here. I could make Castle Gormenghast my home.

Except I am reminded of a line from Sherlock "Alone is what I have, alone protects me."

You see I have always been alone. I have had to stumble blindly through the dark and out into the light time and time again and I am so broken because of that. Now here I am again, stumbling again, except I'm not really alone, I've got a sponsor and she has a lot of issues and is freaking the fuck out that she has to support me. I'm not going to kill myself but I am a burden on her and one she clearly doesn't want and one who is because of her need to try and help me stumble through the dark, a burden I really do not need.

I am going to be alone in this quest, one way or another. I need to figure out my life after basically wasting every single year of my life leading up to this moment. I had not got a fucking clue what I was doing and I was so broken and being broken more all the time and I utterly wasted my time at college and university. I need to find some way to help people using my very limited set of skills.

Which brings me to the phantoms that have been haunting me for such a long time. You know it's like Father's Day, that Christopher Ecclestone Doctor Who episode, where the car is going round and round on a loop. The solution in plain sight but it's just about the characters reaching the conclusion and consoling themselves to it. TEFL. TEFL TEFL. I want to help people and I have always been headed towards something I hate, better a teacher than a father.  And I have already done a module on teaching writing and it would tie into my college and uni course as lets face it I do love my long words. I'm not even sure if they'd let me. People might take one look at my blog and youtube channel and say "Yeah, you are never allowed to teach because you wrote just so much weird shit."

I did say phantoms plural though. See before I went to college I was learning to drive. I practically evolved into a different species from that clueless unhygienic wreck since then. Ha. Literally a car haunting me as the solution. I could learn to drive, that would open up so many jobs and it would give me a role within the family, a way I could help that even my sister can't. I wouldn't even have to get a car, just get a driving license and learning is what a do. It would be a responsibility though, a heck of a big one. I ran from that dangerous potential to hurt others, yet I am learning that manhood means accepting that the dangerous potential to hurt others, or at least accidentally terrify them, is sort of inherent. I can't keep running from responsibility, from power, because I am becoming powerful whether I like it or not.

I've already started walking and doing weights and the exercise bike and now my testosterone is leveling out so I only need to worry about that every three months. I am even getting a smart phone for christmass so I could get podcasts while at free wifi hotspots. This is possible. So possible and it presents a short or medium term plan. It could get me out and let my family have a chance to recover while knowing I was safe. It would also allow me to build on my CV and give me the option to cut off from the brand that keeps the trolls coming. I could disappear into the mist and never be seen or heard from again. Oh that is so so so tempting.

Yet I am broken and pushing people away and entering unfamiliar surroundings can't be the answer? 

Except I am not broken like I was, I am back. This is me. I know who I am, I just don't know what I do any more. My soul is saved but my vocation, my dream of a career, is just a dream and I have woken up from it. I don't need anyone to help me on this and even if I did who is going to help me? That's not to say I don't have friends that I can talk to but they live fucking miles away so I have to talk to them through the internet anyway. There is one reason to stay at home: Comfort.

Yet I am not comfortable here. This place makes me physically sick and even Skyrim, the one real reason to stay here, using a desktop, that is compromised by the dreadful plague that stalks me.

You know what the worst thing is though? Dad's being nice to me. And that's the terror of the Triffid and the Troll. Is it serious, is it well meaning but dumb to the danger and power it wields or is it smart? Oh I so want to believe that my sister and my mother are safe with him. I so want to leave before he turns, before the shaved ape throws his weight around again, before I have to say I told you so, before my theory about whether dad is smart enough to not be physically violent with me again is tested. It's like getting out of a series half way through because you just know that if you stick to the end there's going to be a cliff hanger that is going to hurt like hell.

Tuesday, 8 December 2015



Alexander Gordon Jahans

So I'm listening to a podcast called School of Movies, formally Digitial Gonzo and Digital Drift, both far cooler names, and I'm now going through their reviews of the Harry Potter films after I binge listened to the unabridged American audiobooks at University, that I had *ahem* procured sometime earlier. It's got me thinking about things.

I really never got on with the idea of Harry Potter because it's just - I don't want to say too sappy but I really hated and loathed my parents at the time of listening to the books and I had finally gotten out then here's this book series preaching about how love conquers all and I'm like "No, it doesn't. Love is just bullshit people say when they can't do shit to help you." 

I'm in a different place now and I'm at the end of the review of book 3 and there's this point where they talk about how Harry is really just crawling up the walls with frustration and I've been there, I've been there not so long ago but things are different.

My entire life has been typified by getting out. running away. I ran away from home twice and only stopped when I was threatened with a criminal record (*snort*) and my entire time at school was this creeping madness as I became more and more desperate to get away, talking and reasoning and writing letters, almost screaming at my parents "This is how you get me out, this is how you make the pain end!" and then one day I just walked out and decided I didn't care what threats or bribes were used to bring me back. Then my life became about getting out and leaving home. I was going to hitchhike like Ford Prefect, learn to drive and take off in a campervan, then one day a quest to build a dalek led me out and to University and for a couple of blissful years I was free. Then the panic returned. Not home. Not Woking. Not again.

The past year has been hell. Fucked up genetics, separating parents, depression, loneliness, Dad being a violent abusive shit and Beki, the one sane member of the family, fucking off to another country, not recognising dad's abusiveness and returning ill with medical anxiety. I was always fucked, I was never going to have kids, even before I found out I am probably infertile so Beki was the hope that something, just something could escape unbroken. I was so blind and so foolish and anyone who ever dares to tell me feminism isn't needed can go shove a spear up their arse. Not my place to say but fuck everything just... so very shitty.

Then one day I came home from a convention and I wanted dad to go, so I told him and I gave him timed and tried to push him out even when he threatened to call the police. I'm not proud of it but not because I did anything especially bad, because in that moment I became my father. The difference is he called the police where I wimpered and cried. I did no worse than he has ever done to me. But
I did, unprovoked, even when threatened with the police, lay hands on my father and now he knows how it feels. I don't say that cackling. Vengeance is wrong. What I did was wrong that does not change the fact that the monster of my nightmares is now afraid of me or at least has a healthy respect for the fact that maybe bullying someone who's six foot is not such a wise idea and the demon is gone.
It didn't end overnight. I didn't change how I felt overnight. I still had the biggest monster of all to defeat, myself. Beki showed me the way. I hate myself so much so acting on flaws is difficult because is that really a flaw or am I just finding an excuse to berate myself? Beki was the person I have always hoped I would have, the person who would tell me to my face when I was doing something wrong. Naturally I didn't believe her but it got into my psyche and let me realise that I had become a chaotic deathseeker and that really wasn't good.

So here we are and it's funny, the dance continues... Nothing ever really changes in this house, or never really seemed to, only subtle things. There is always drama and manipulation and lying, enough to make a superstitious fan of quantum mechanics and parallel worlds wonder if this is all some great soap opera. There is in reality more likely explanations to do with my dad's cycle of abuse and my mum's bipolar cycling. It's just a constant metronome of tension and explosion and that sent me so mad because why can't anything change?

Except now I'm king of the castle. I am able to scare even the man of my nightmares, to the point where I must now learn to tone it down and control but the point is, I am not afraid anymore and I am the only occupant of this house with a safe space and who stays here all the time. I don't feel trapped here anymore. I feel safe and in control. This is my escape from the outside world. Sure Beki still scowls at me and dad's dad and mum will give me lectures on how I'm a piece of shit but I spend my time on youtube, it's almost comforting in a way to have such needless negativity come poke me in the eye every once in a while. This is what I know and this is a dance I know well that I can use to my own ends. 

The task that awaits me now is still escape but of a different kind. I want to escape my own self loathing. I want to find a way to do good and to have the money to better feel good by eating better food, dressing in better clothes and having the equipment to make better videos. I don't just want to survive, I don't just want to escape. I want to live better, I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and not hate myself for living a good life while so many are suffering, I want to feel like I made a difference to people in a positive way.

Why Donald Trump is so terrifying

Monday, 7 December 2015

Figuring stuff out

Figuring shit out
Alexander Gordon Jahans

Hybrid Morality is a fusion of Utilitarian Morality and Classical Morality. The reason I use a fusion is that they both have problems.

The perfect example of Classical Morality being a bad thing is typified by Batman at the Joker. The Joker is not ambiguous. He is not shades of grey. He does not get into an enemy mine situation with the Batman. He is just fucking nuts and sadistic and Arkham is a cardboard prison but killing is wrong so time after time the Joker gets out and people suffer and die. I’d say that at least by the seventh escape and massacre you really should just fucking kill the bastard. Batman is already breaking the law massively and being a violent sadist, just kill him already.

The perfect example of Utilitarian Morality being a bad thing is the darkness within the Doctor. This is a man who can weaponise charisma, empathy and intelligence to make daleks commit suicide. This is a very dangerous man capable of manipulating people with a very cold pragmatism because the ends really do mathematically justify the means. I can absolutely understand why the Valeyard would try to steal the remaining regenerations of his sixth incarnation because there are a lot of wasted lives there and ultimately a weapon as useful and powerful as the Doctor is empirically, mathematically, worth Cass and Rose and Wilf. Except the day the Doctor does that, the day he says “My life is more important than yours so I’m going to let you die so I can live” is the day he stops being a hero and starts being a monster.

So how is Hybrid Morality calculated well obviously every situation is different but basically Classical Morality is used as a kind of modifier to the Utilitarian morality calculation. Here is a break down from the most extreme to the most minor of both positive and negative modifiers.
Positive Modifiers:
Radically improving the quality of life of an entire thinking species.
Saving upwards of thirty people (this naturally scales with the amount saved).
Preserving a central right.
Liberating people from oppression.
Saving thirty people or less.
Doing a selfless good deed.
Giving to charity.
Showing compassion and mercy.

Negative Modifiers:
Founding a system of oppression.
Killing, or causing to suffer, upwards of thirty people (this scales.
Removing a central right.
Maintaining a preexisting system of oppression when you could change it.
Killing, or causing to suffer, 30 people or less.
Comitting digital piracy.
Being a dickbag to someone.

And now I write it out, no wonder I’m feeling like such a shithead, as technically I’ve got a negative modifier on me for dickbaggery.

Well no wonder, buddy. If anything you should be damn proud for only being that bad.


I mean look at you: Asperger’s Syndrome, less testosterone than the average woman, atheist in a Church of England School, bullied every fucking day, your dad a nightmare of rage who thought money meant love and a mother whose attempts at compassion only pushed you further away as the concept of love lost all meaning.

Right... I meant, what’s happenning?

You are lost. You are alone. You need guidance. You need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and you need a different perspective. So this is your solution: I am what you fear you could be, I am your most loathed creation and I am the man that you call upon when being Alex Jahans, being Gordon Jones, is not enough. I am the Farsh-nuke. Or at least I am you choosing to write as if from the perspective of the Farsh-nuke because I am the only mind you feel comfortable enough writing that you can use me as a prism by which to examine yourself. So go on then, the Doctor will see you now.

Right... taking advice from a mass murdering eldritch abomination. I really am not in a good place am I?

Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather take advice from the manipulative and violent rage beast that is your father or how about the anxiety riddled manic depressive who can lie to your face your entire life and still think she did nothing wrong? I suppose you could always consult a fictitious representation of the Doctor but a man that so inconsistently written is not worth turning to for advice. Certainly not considering it seems you’re both emotionally stunted fuckups with anger management issues and difficulty letting go.

Right. Okay then... I want to be a good man. I want to be strong and confident and not be a dick.
Then might I suggest you read up on sociology? The knowledge is out there to understand people if you look for it. You’re a nerd, you love this shit.

No. It’s not worth it. I can’t have that power. I don’t want to ever be able to manipulate people.

And you think the only thing stopping you is a lack of understanding? You think being unable to fight is all that stopped you being a bully in school? You need to stop kidding yourself and believe in your innate goodness.
You know how your parents are crap at basic security at the chip and pin machine and on their computers. You have a multibooted computer and can, given enough time, diagnose almost any software problem. You know machines and you know how to exploit them.
Lets face it your parents haven’t exactly left you stuck for motivation to be dicks to them. How many times have they screamed in your face that you don’t deserve money for food and how many times have you been angry with them? Yet never, not once, not even for a millisecond, would you ever even consider to make your life easier if you one day decided to take what you needed. Not even to survive.
You would die before you so much as stole a sandwich and you think you could ever become some kind of manipulative arsehole?

Yeah but the Doctor -

The Doctor is a fictional construct and the entire purpose of his being is to generate stories, if he ever actually became at peace with himself and his life the series would have to end. You are not a monster. If you were you could have done so much damage by now. You just think you’re a monster because you get angry occasionally and because you have a lot of internalised hatred from seemingly an entire school wanting you to suffer for their lols.

Okay so what happens if I accept your take that I am actually a good man already?

You learn to be better. You are a jack of all trades. You can do this. You can learn to read people. Not to mindfuck them. Never to mindfuck them. Not to manipulate them either but just to have some kind of understanding as to how they prefer to be talked to. Just as an understanding of nerd culture and politics lets you talk confidently to people, so an understanding of people will give you further confidence in talking to them.

Okay. Yes, alright. There is logic in that. Except I am just so... It’s like when I drink Diet Coke. I am turbocharged and on fire and in the zone but not in a high sense, in a neutral hyper aware serious sense and - And it makes the fuckups so much more annoying and aggravating because damnit we should be over this by now.

Let me reiterate, you had less testosterone than the average woman. That became your norm. You are like an alien who grew up in a place with less oxygen and higher gravity so on Earth you feel like a superbeing. To you lethargy is normal. You weren’t lazy, you were fighting every day against your own literal inability to give a fuck and still you went to school and college and university and created the Farsh-nuke. You did all that while your body was unable to perform like a normal person so yes a life that was created for that body is going to need adapting but I think you know what the answer to all that extra energy is, you need to find some way to help people. Something that that isn’t just making videos and writing blogs.

And what do I do about the umm... Well you know how sharks roar in sharkploitation films? I just sort of find myself doing that any time I’m annoyed. Or I swear.



Your sister sings, really badly, at the top of her lungs. You do the same. She can hardly object to you doing what she does.

There is a slight problem in that my music tastes, well they’re not exactly nice light and fluffy. I am a broody guy and I tend to listen to music that is about stuff. I mean I currently sing the Foo Fighters the Pretender to myself:

Keep you in the dark, you know they all pretend.

What if I say I’m not like the others? You’re fake. You’re the pretender. What if I say that I’ll never surrender?

Good song. What’s the problem?

She sings Disney songs.

Oh fuck Disney. Disney are evil. They are the patriarchy incarnate. An entire megacorporation founded by one sexist man.

They aren’t that bad. I mean the Lion King is awesome, Frozen wasn’t bad and they now own Marvel and Star Wars.

Hahaha! They are that bad. I should know. They’re why my great Conspiracy didn’t crumble after one year, the Disney films are so influential to so many young women and you know just how much the media can influence a developing mind. And if they’ve got the superheroes and the most famous scifi series they truly do control the hearts and minds of so many future generations.

I am sure I don’t know what you mean...

Yeah... So it’s just a coincidence that after watching Jaws, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Doctor Who you became an eccentric English stereotype with suits, an almost spiritual sense of personality change imagined as the death of one persona and the birth of another, with a fear about what you might be if you let go of your morality and gave in to the animal hunger of the shark inside yourself?

Well... it’s really more complicated than that. Like how the Swedes have more words for different shades of colours and so they literally see the different colours. Knowledge of the terminology, lets you identify the unnoticed thing itself. I mean there was a guy who didn’t know that anxiety was a thing so he thought he had stomach ache when it was psychological...

Whatever, The point is belt Kasabian and Kaiser Chiefs from the roof tops and maybe your sister might be educated as to a better class of music. Disney is a monster leviathan it must be fought.

You know I think if I’m going to keep talking to myself like this I need to come up with a less crazy character to do it with.

Well fuck you too.