It's fiction remember... fiction.

Sometimes I hate television writers. I like to think I am a relatively sane human being but too many times have I been brought to tears because of the lives of fictional characters. In the same way, if I watch an episode of Green Wing or Black Books, I'm instantly cheered up.

Part of me cried because of the plot of the last episode (OH THE PLOT! THE PLOT!), part of me cried simply because now I have to wait until September 19th to find out if one of the characters is alive or dead. This is fan torture! You bring us into the stories of these shows, we are hooked then in the last episode there's big reveals, shootings and declarations of love and suddenly we're left hanging.

This doesn't happen with films, you don't experience the "lives" of the characters in films like you do in an ongoing series. Books are the same. You get to know a character in a way that you can't in just two hours.

And this is what comes of my lack of human contact (apart from at work) at the moment. I watch a lot of television, eat too many crisps and cry into my duvet when someone fictional gets shot. Oh what summer fun I am having.

“The electric things have their life too.”

Today I discovered this website. The sculptures are absolutely beautiful. All I can think of is how it reminds me of Philip K. Dick's novel, Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? Now I love Bladerunner, which is based on Dick's novel, but it doesn't really live up to the book for me. I've call for a proper film or series of the book but sod's law says it'll be appalling.

by Jamie Salmon, sculptor.

Sigh.

I can dream of a good adaption, can't I? The other day I dreamt about Socialists with superpowers. I can dream it, but that doesn't mean I want it to come true.

Thanks, Aunty Beeb, for that fleeting glance into the dystopian future of Britain.

Maybe I watch too many sci-fi films, maybe it's because I'm currently reading Do androids dream of electric Sheep? in which cities trudge on underneath a blanket of radioactive fallout, maybe I've just gone a bit odd out of boredom (I stare pointedly at the essay that is sitting ignored in another window). Either way, this tweet both chilled and excited me.

As a lover of futuristic fiction it excites me every time I see something that hints towards the future. Sometimes the robot, Akimo will pop up in a documentary or I'll learn of some crazy sounding new scientific experiment... then every now and then I see a Segway and yearn for the future where they're as cheap and commonplace as bicycles. Oh see how I yearn.

In spite of my love of dystopian fiction seeing a smog alert hashtag on twitter is still a little strange and disconcerting. Should I wear a mask out? Or a protective suit? Or maybe I won't go out at all, just stay inside with my hoverboard and self-lacing boots.

Anthony Horowitz, my hero.

“A commercial break! Quick! Kill someone!”

Anthony Horowitz, the creator of Midsomer Murders, Foyle’s War, Alex Rider and most importantly a scene in which two people have sex in a ball pit in (my personal favourite of his books) The Killing Joke. This evening I attended a talk by him (about his work and general awesomeness) at the Lincoln Drill Hall and somewhat drove my friends mad with my fangirlish nonsense. (Though all “nonsense” aside I would happy marry that handsome devil and his smooth tones and wonderful authorish skills.)

He started out talking about good old Alex Rider, the 14 year old spy who got him where he is now. Horowitz told us how he partially owes the success of the children’s series to J K Rowling. Without the Harry Potter franchise publishers would have never realised how popular children’s books could be.

In a Lincoln exclusive (that somewhat made my belly fizz) Horowitz read out the first page of the next and final book in the Alex Rider series. We follow the head of criminal organisation SCORPIA through the British Museum on his way to meet “the third richest man in the world”. Horowitz also told us how an old enemy was set to return. Now personally I was hoping that my darling wonderful (fictional) Russian assassin Yassen Gregorovich would miraculously return from the dead after being shot at the end of the fourth book. But a) Horowitz has now promised a sort of prequel in which we see Yassen at Alex’s age and b) the series isn’t suited to random resurrecting a beloved character. I intend to re-read the entire series over the summer in order to dejuce the mysterious returning foe. Because I’m just that much of a dork. smiles proudly

Good old (yet still remarkably dashing) Anthony went on to talk about his work in television, notably Foyle’s War and Collision. Now I’ve never seen either of these as I’m cough cough allergic to ITV though I may contemplate purchasing the DVDs. Horowitz’s take on the murder mystery genre and the curse of commercial breaks was somewhat amusing (if it wasn’t obvious please see the title of this post).

In the end this talk filled me not only with fangirlish glee but also with a few nifty facts about my favourte author. But mainly fangirlish glee… and a signed copy of my favourite Horowitz which is now my most prized possession.

Thank you Mr Horowitz, for such a delightful evening.