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Cowabunga!

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I have wanted these for so long.

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The Turtles, not the cats.

With licensing problems still preventing NECA releasing its Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles figures in the UK, sourcing them here remains a nightmare – especially when the last few sets have been Comicon exclusives that have sold out online in minutes.

So when NECA announced a re-release for the movie set at GameStop in the US I was super stoked. Annoyingly…

… GameStop.com is blocked in the UK…
… and when using a VPN PayPal would for some reason not work…
… and when trying to use a reshipping service, GameStop would not deliver to the address…
… and when trying to get the reshipper to buy on my behalf, they took 3 days to make the order by which time GameStop had sold out…

So when I got a pay rise, I just ordered the things off eBay. Turtle Power indeed!

My own Spider-verse

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Spider Punk arrived today and I think he really makes this display.

Officially, however, I definitely do not collect Marvel Legends. Nope. Not me. And I’m not on the look out for good prices on Scarlet Spider or Spider-Man 2099.

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(For those who are interested, from left-to-right, top-to-bottom: Superior Spider-Man, Iron Spider [Avengers Infinity War], Garfield-era Amazing Spider-Man, Spider Noir, Classic Spider-Man, Spider Punk, Venom, Spider UK, Spider Gwen, Miles Morales, PS4 Spider-Man.)

Doctor Lite

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I think Jodie did a great job in her debut season, but imagine the job she could have done with better material.

The problem with the 13th Doctor is that, ultimately, she is shallow. What are her motivations? What does she fear? What are her conflicts? What is the lie she believes or the truth she won’t accept?

The Doctor is one of the most tragic and tortured heroes in sci-fi, but all hint of that was absent. On any basic level Jodie’s Doctor lacks a ‘character’, in narrative terms.

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A Journey In Parenting #4,221

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  1. My wife informs me that our daughter (12) has a boyfriend.
  2. I die; I lament the rapidly approaching loss of my beautiful, innocent little girl; I recall the thoughts that inhabited my 12 year old boy brain, and I wince; I am told  in no uncertain terms by my wife that I am to be “positive” and “supportive” of this development, and to be grateful that we have successfully fostered a domestic atmosphere in which my daughter is comfortable to share such information with us; My murderous feelings barely suppressed, I start playing Hitman again, taking unsettling pleasure in the calm and premeditated killing occurring at my hands; I frequently swear quietly under my breath, sometimes muttering his name; I raise the issue with my daughter, replying with platitudes such as “that’s good” and “he sounds nice”, despite hating this young boy whom I have not met to my very core.
  3. My wife asks my daughter if she has kissed this boy. She recoils in horror at the mere suggestion, adding “it’s really awkward when it’s just me and him and we don’t know what to say.”
  4. I am reborn.

And That’s It: Part 2

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There are loads of things I loved about being a freelance writer. I could be ‘professional’ and cite how awesome it is to work with an assortment of cool people across a range of fields, or evangelise about the freedom of being your own boss. In truth though some of the coolest bits were the bits not to do with work – the freedom to walk the dog in the woods late afternoon, the lunchtime PUBG, the lack of trousers, those wonderful early-afternoon naps. And the late morning naps. Am quite keen on the mid-afternoon naps too. And y’know, those early morning naps aren’t bad either.

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