THE RANTING BRUMMIE ON 2024

The year 2024, a period in which human folly reached new heights—or should I say, plummeted to new depths - served as a testament to the enduring spirit of humanity, especially in the face and spirit of absurdity. It was a year of a veritable parade of human ingenuity, where we all collectively decided that if we couldn't make things better, we could at least make them more ridiculous.

First, we had the elections, a global carnival of democracy where the voters, ever the masochists, were left with the unenviable task to choose between potential leaders either with the charisma of a damp rag and the moral fibre of a chocolate éclair whose primary qualification was their ability to look confused in front of a camera. 

Kamala Harris promised to solve homelessness by giving everyone a free tent and a map to a nearby woods, after taking over the Democratic nomination from Joe Bien, who had promised to solve climate change by issuing a stern tweet at the sun. Meanwhile, Trump promised to end poverty by suggesting everyone should just "try being rich". Trump, in true reality TV fashion, clinched a second non-consecutive term in the White House, proving once again that politics is just another form of entertainment.

In the UK, the political landscape was so bleak, you'd think the weather had finally won. The new PM, Sir Kier Starmer, elected on a platform of "vagueness with a hint of confusion," pledged to solve the housing crisis by suggesting everyone should just share beds in shifts. 

Starmer managed to make the country's exit from the European Union look like a masterclass in organized chaos. Brexit was finally "done," in the sense that it was now an ongoing, perpetual motion machine of bureaucratic bungling. The grand plan for Brexit was to keep on "exiting" until everyone forgot what it was they were actually exiting from in the first place.

This year, economic analysts predicted a boom in toilet paper stocks due to the sheer volume of crap we were dealing with. But, in a twist no one saw coming, the market was flooded when it was revealed that most of what was being produced was actually being used by politicians for their speeches. The result? A toilet paper surplus so vast, we started using it as currency in some places, leading to the world's most embarrassing inflation.

In Europe, the political scene was a comedy of errors where leaders competed to see who could ignore the climate crisis the most creatively. One suggested a "carbon footprint reduction" strategy that involved everyone moving to the moon, because, clearly, space is the new green. 

On the international stage, summits turned into stand-up comedy shows where world leaders took turns promising peace while secretly plotting to outdo each other in hypocrisy. The UN became a platform for nations to compete in the "Least Action, Most Talk" awards, where the winner was the country that could say "we're doing something" with the straightest face, while doing absolutely nothing.

In health news, we saw a surge in diseases we didn't know we had until influencers told us about them on social media. "Chronic Instagramitis" became a real thing, characterized by the inability to post without a filter, leading to a national shortage of duck faces. Meanwhile, the latest health craze was "quantum detoxes," where people paid top dollar to sit in dark rooms, convinced they were expelling negative energy. Spoiler: it was just gas.

On the technological front, AI continued its inexorable march towards rendering humans irrelevant, except, of course, for providing the raw material of human error for AI to correct. We saw the launch of "AI Politician 3000," which was so advanced it could predict when you were going to sneeze but couldn't understand why humans continue to elect absolute clowns, and although it was unable to lie convincingly, it at least managed to mimic human indecision with startling accuracy. One AI even ran for office in a mock election, proving to be more honest than most human candidates, though, tragically, it lacked the essential trait of all great politicians: the ability to lie with a smile. 

So-called "Smart Homes" got smarter, the only difference being your refrigerator now being capable of arguing with you about your choice of breakfast cereal while your toaster judges your life choices. Space exploration took a hilarious turn when Elon Musk announced the first Martian housing development. The catch? No gravity meant your furniture floated, leading to the world's most expensive game of "catch the sofa." The first homeowners association meeting was held in zero gravity, where everyone agreed on one thing: no more floating pizza parties.

The entertainment industry, never one to be outdone in the stakes of surrealism, gave us films where the premises were so convoluted, they made quantum physics look like a nursery rhyme. One particular blockbuster involved time-traveling dinosaurs who, for reasons left unexplained, were running for mayor of New York. We were treated to films that had budgets larger than some countries' GDPs for stories less believable than a politician's promise, where the plot was so thin you could read a newspaper through it. 

Reality TV shows continued to show us that the only reality was how low humanity could go. One show, "Who Wants to Be a Political Figure?" featured contestants doing absolutely nothing for weeks, mirroring actual politicians rather accurately, as well as "Survivor: The Office," where contestants competed to see who could stay awake the longest during a Zoom meeting. 

Environmental news was dominated by the Great Barrier Reef's latest press release, stating it was considering moving to the moon for a better chance at survival. This, after the ocean temperatures decided to flirt with the boiling point, leading to a new trend of having more "Green Fridays," where everyone wore green to work, completely ignoring the fact that their commute involved fossil-fuelled vehicles. Climate change, in response, decided to escalate from "annoying" to "apocalyptic," but hey, at least we got some great social media posts out of it. 

And in the realm of culture, we witnessed the phenomenon of "quiet quitting" evolve into "silent resigning," where people simply forgot to show up to work, hoping their absence would be taken as an artistic statement on the nature of employment in the late capitalist era. "Art" simply became whatever you could sell to someone with more money than taste, which culminated in the art world embracing "conceptual nothingness," where the concept was to charge exorbitant prices for absolutely nothing. One artist sold an empty gallery space for millions, arguing that the art was "the absence of art itself."

And so, as 2024 fades into the annals of history, we're left with the bitter realization that our political leaders have turned governance into an art form of incompetence. Here's to 2025, where we can only hope the political jabs become less satire and more reality check. But let's be honest, that's probably as likely as finding integrity in a politician's soul.

Happy New Year Everyone !!

HARD LABOUR ...

In the shadow of a new dawn, where the Labour Party presides over our once-sceptred isle, one finds the air thick with the stench of political disappointment. This government, under the stewardship of Sir Keir Starmer, has not so much walked into power as stumbled, with all the grace of a drunkard at closing time.

One might have hoped for a revival, a rejuvenation of the body politic with Labour at the helm. Instead, we've been treated to what can only be described as a phoney period, a term borrowed from the annals of war to describe the eerie calm before the storm of real action. Labour, it seems, is still in its 'phoney' phase, with autumn looming like a stern headmaster waiting to grade their performance.

The honeymoon, as brief as it was, has ended, leaving behind not the sweet aftertaste of promise but the bitter residue of unmet expectations. The Guardian's Martin Kettle speaks of tougher tests to come, but one wonders if the party has even passed the preliminary exam. The narrative of Labour's first 100 days reads like a script for a political tragedy, where the protagonists are too busy with factional squabbles to notice the real drama unfolding around them.

Starmer's government has made its mark, yes, but mostly in the negative space. The means testing of winter fuel payments, as highlighted by YouGov, has left the elderly feeling more like subjects of a social experiment than citizens of a caring state. Meanwhile, the environment cries out for action, with Labour's promises on net zero turning into a whisper in the wind, as per The Guardian's assessment.

The Diane Abbott debacle, a saga of internal Labour strife, was less a storm in a teacup and more a tempest in a teapot, showcasing a party more adept at self-sabotage than governance. Polly Toynbee's memo in The Guardian was less advice and more a plea for sanity in a party that seems to enjoy making enemies rather than legislation.

And then there's the matter of voter apathy, a silent assassin of democracy, a warning that beneath Labour's cautious exterior beats the heart of a socialist, waiting for the moment to shed its centrist clothing and reveal its true colours. But, in the interim, we're left with a government that seems more concerned with not offending than with leading.

In their first week, Labour's announcements were a flurry of activity, akin to a chef throwing ingredients into a pot without a recipe. The threat of nationalizing Thames Water, the prisoner release debacle - these are not the actions of a government with a clear plan but of one reacting to crises with the composure of a novice juggler.

What Labour promised in their manifesto seems a distant memory, replaced by the reality of what they've done or, more poignantly, what they haven't. The economy, the NHS, immigration, housing - all these are arenas where Labour was expected to shine but has so far managed only to flicker.

So far, this near parody of Labour governance has been less a beacon of hope and more a beacon of how not to govern on par with that displayed in "The Thick of It". One can only hope that this phoney period ends soon, lest we find ourselves in a political winter from which there is no spring.

A BRIEF POST ABOUT THE 2024 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

In this age where political discourse has devolved into the art of the tweet, the 2024 U.S. Presidential election emerged not so much as a beacon of democratic hope but as a carnival of the bizarre. Here we found ourselves, spectators to a spectacle where the candidates are less statesman and more reality TV stars, each vying for the title of Commander-in-Chief with all the dignity of contestants on a particularly gauche game show.

Donald Trump, a name that has become synonymous with political upheaval, achieved not just a return to power but, in his mind at least, a vindication of his previous tenure. His campaign, as reported by The Washington Post, was marked by a rhetoric so bombastic it could make even the most stoic of political analysts reach for the mute button. His victory in Pennsylvania was not just a win but a declaration, a testament to his enduring appeal among those who see in him not a leader but a symbol of defiance against the establishment.

On the other side stood Kamala Harris, the Vice President who stepped into the ring when the incumbent President, Joe Biden decided to bow out, a move as unexpected as it was strategic. Her campaign, as chronicled by The Washington Post, was a valiant effort, infused with the hope that she could steer the country back from the brink of Trumpian excess. Yet, as the ballots were counted, it became clear that her fight to prevent a return to what she termed the "Trump administration" was not to be.

The election was not just a contest between two individuals but a referendum on the soul of America. Trump's rhetoric, as always, was a cocktail of bravado and grievance, painting a picture of a country under siege from within, needing his brand of leadership to restore order. Harris, on the other hand, campaigned on unity, progress, and perhaps, the promise of normalcy in abnormal times.

However, the narrative was not complete without the endorsement of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a twist in the tale that added layers of complexity to an already convoluted plot. His support for Trump was not just a political manoeuvre but a statement on the fractured state of American politics, where alliances are formed not on common ground but on mutual disdain for the status quo.

The election was fraught with moments that would have been unthinkable in a less turbulent era. Two assassination attempts on Trump, as reported by CBS News, underscored the volatile nature of contemporary American politics, where dissent can turn deadly. Trump's conviction on charges related to his hush money trial was another plot twist, a modern-day morality play where the villain gets his comeuppance, only to rise again in the political arena.

As the dust settles, what remains is a nation divided, a democracy tested, and a political landscape that looks more like a battlefield than a forum for debate. Trump's victory, as noted by The New York Post, is not just a personal triumph but a signal that the American electorate is still willing to gamble with its future for the thrill of the unpredictable.

In this brief recounting of the 2024 election, we see not just the machinations of power but a reflection of a society in flux, where the choice between candidates is less about policy and more about persona. Here's to hoping that this dance of democracy, this waltz of wills, leads us not to the edge of a cliff but towards a horizon where leadership is about more than just surviving the spectacle.

MEET THE NEW BOSS, WORSE THAN THE OLD BOSS

A few weeks ago, we in the UK elected a new government because we get a free democratic choice every five years or so. Well, I say we get a choice, it's actually between Red uniparty or Blue uniparty, which is a bit deciding which one of my testicles I'd prefer to have amputated. 

It's rather bit like that scene in the Matrix, only the same thing happens whatever pill you take and Keanu Reeves still ends up in a long leather trench coat saying 'woah', or 'dude' whilst punching Hugo Weaving in the face. 

Some people are stubbornly loyal to one or other of those colours, a bit like football fans in Manchester or Liverpool, but some people can be persuaded to choose someone else either way.

This time we 'chose' the red uniparty. Well, twenty percent of us did. It wasn’t a great turnout. There was no real enthusiasm. Nobody was voting for a bright new tomorrow. The Labour Party, under the stewardship of Sir Keir Starmer, has now taken the helm of this once-great nation, promising change with the earnestness of a schoolboy pledging to do his homework. 

It was more like shifting yourself on an uncomfortable chair because one of your arse cheeks has gone numb. Yet, as we peer through the veil of political rhetoric, what do we find? Not the heralded dawn of a new era but the same old dusk, just with different shadows.

In this, our current epoch, where political discourse has devolved into a cacophony of promises and platitudes, we witness the ascension of what can only be described as 'the new boss.' And with this new boss, comes the realization, more bitter than a cup of over-brewed tea, that things have not improved but perhaps, have taken a turn for the worse. 

Take, for instance, the means testing of winter fuel payments, a policy so devoid of empathy it could chill the heart of even the most ardent supporter. YouGov's analysis paints a picture of a government more interested in balancing books than in ensuring the warmth of its citizens during our famously unforgiving winters.

And what of the environment, that great battleground where Labour promised to fight with the zeal of a knight of old? The Guardian's coverage reveals a government more adept at setting targets than at hitting them, with net zero emissions turning into a slogan rather than a strategy.

Then there's the economy, the NHS, immigration, housing - all these are arenas where Labour was expected to shine but has so far managed only to flicker. The phrase "Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss" resonates not just as a catchy line from a song by The Who, but as a grim assessment of where we stand. The Conservative era, with all its faults and follies, has been supplanted by a Labour government that seems to have learned all the wrong lessons from its predecessor.

In this era of political theatre, where every policy announcement feels like a scene from a poorly scripted play, one yearns for a return to governance where actions speak louder than words. The new boss, worse than the old, has so far proven to be a master of the art of disappointment, a conductor of the symphony of mediocrity.

As we look forward, one can only hope that this is merely the overture to a better act, that the new boss finds the courage to lead rather than merely to manage. Until then, we, the audience of this political drama, sit in the stalls, watching with a mix of resignation and hope, waiting for the moment when the promise of change is not just spoken but realized.

As such, politics out in the real world will continue to deteriorate while the world becomes a more threatening and unstable place. The fate that befell the zombie Tory party is just as likely to befall Starmer’s Labour. A clock is ticking, but the denizens of Westminster are deaf to it.

Hopefully, come the next General Election, we will pick up our guitars and play, just like yesterday, get on our knees and pray - that we won't get fooled again. 

THE RANTING BRUMMIE'S MASHUPS - "DOCTOR WHO & THE CURSE OF KINGDOM HOSPITAL"

In the eerie corridors of Kingdom Hospital, the very fabric of reality seems to warp and twist. Built upon the scorched remnants of a Civil War-era mill in Lewiston, Maine, the hospital is no stranger to the supernatural. It's a place where the past and present collide, where the veil between the worlds grows thin, and where the echoes of the children who perished in a tragic fire still linger.

The hospital staff, a motley crew of eccentric personalities, have grown accustomed to the peculiar happenings within these walls, from unexplained phenomena to the frequent, unsettling tremors that seem to emanate from the very bowels of the earth.

Enter the Tenth Doctor, a charismatic and enigmatic Time Lord with a penchant for adventure and a deep-seated aversion to injustice. With his trusty TARDIS parked discreetly in the shadows, the Doctor, portrayed by the brilliant David Tennant, finds himself drawn to the hospital's supernatural allure. His arrival coincides with that of two peculiar patients: Peter Rickman, a talented artist left comatose by a hit-and-run, and Sally Druse, a psychic whose visions of the hospital's haunted history are too vivid to ignore.

As the Doctor navigates the hospital's corridors, he encounters the sinister teenage boy who haunts the premises, a young girl whose tragic death in the fire that consumed the original hospital binds her spirit to the site, and Antubis, a mysterious entity resembling a giant anteater with a fearsome set of teeth. 

With his keen intellect and centuries of experience, the Doctor begins to unravel the threads of a mystery that ties the hospital's current inhabitants to its spectral past. Kingdom Hospital, already a nexus of the paranormal, becomes a stage for the Doctor's timeless battle against injustice and suffering. With each moment, the Doctor peels back layers of the hospital's haunted past, all while offering a glimmer of hope and healing to those he encounters.

The Tenth Doctor's presence brings a new dynamic to the hospital's daily drama. His interactions with the staff, including the cynical yet compassionate Dr. Hook and the arrogant chief of surgery Dr. Stegman, add layers of complexity to the unfolding narrative. 

The Doctor's advanced alien technology and understanding of the paranormal provide fresh perspectives on the hospital's hauntings, and his ability to navigate time and space offers hope for uncovering the truth behind the hospital's eerie occurrences.

As the story progresses, the Doctor's influence becomes evident. He aids Mrs. Druse in her quest to communicate with the spirits, offering solace to the restless dead and seeking to heal the wounds of history that the hospital embodies. His compassion extends to the living as well, as he forms a bond with the comatose Peter Rickman, whose own journey through the shadowy realm between life and death mirrors the Doctor's travels through the darker corners of the universe.

Together, the Doctor and his allies face the daunting task of saving Mary, a young patient trapped between life and death, her spirit ensnared by the hospital's malevolent forces.

The key to Mary's salvation lies in the mysterious concept of Swedenborgian space, a realm beyond the physical, where the spiritual and material worlds converge. Drawing inspiration from the theological writings of Emanuel Swedenborg, the Doctors deduce that to reach Mary, they must transcend the boundaries of conventional reality and venture into this spiritual dimension.

Harnessing the Tenth Doctor's extensive knowledge of the cosmos and Doctor Hook's deep understanding of the human psyche, they embark on a perilous journey to Swedenborgian space. This ethereal plane is a tapestry of consciousness, where thoughts and emotions manifest as tangible landscapes, and the soul's deepest desires and fears are laid bare.

Navigating through this surreal expanse, the Doctors encounter a series of trials that test their resolve and their very essence. They confront manifestations of Mary's inner turmoil, each challenge bringing them closer to the core of her imprisoned spirit.

In a climactic moment, the Tenth Doctor employs his sonic screwdriver, not as a tool of physical manipulation, but as a beacon of hope, resonating with the frequency of Mary's soul. Doctor Hook, with his surgical precision, disentangles the psychic knots binding Mary, allowing her essence to flow freely.

As they reach the heart of Swedenborgian space, the Doctors find themselves in a celestial courtroom, where Mary's fate hangs in the balance. The Tenth Doctor, with his characteristic eloquence, pleads for Mary's release, arguing for the sanctity of life and the power of redemption. Doctor Hook, with quiet intensity, affirms the Doctor's words, his own experiences within Kingdom Hospital lending weight to their plea.

The verdict is rendered by the spirits presiding over this otherworldly tribunal, and Mary is granted a peaceful entry into the afterlife. The Doctors, triumphant, head back through the labyrinth of the hospital and leave Swedenborgian space, returning to the familiar halls of Kingdom Hospital.

Mary's awakening is a testament to the indomitable spirit of those who seek to heal and protect. The Tenth Doctor and Doctor Hook, through their journey to the very edge of existence, have not only saved a life but have also reaffirmed the interconnectedness of all beings, across all planes of existence.

This fusion of "Kingdom Hospital" and "Doctor Who" lore creates a narrative rich with philosophical depth and spiritual wonder, inviting viewers to ponder the mysteries that lie just beyond the veil of our perceived reality. It's a story that celebrates the courage to explore the unknown and the compassion to save a soul adrift in the cosmos.

The Tenth Doctor's journey through Kingdom Hospital is one of mystery, heartache, and ultimately, hope. His influence extends beyond the physical realm, touching the lives of both the living and the dead. In a place where the veil between worlds is thin, the Doctor proves that even in the darkest of places, there's always a chance for redemption and the healing power of kindness.

This reimagined plot of "Kingdom Hospital" weaves the essence of the Tenth Doctor into the fabric of the story, creating a narrative that honours the spirit of both the original series and the beloved character from "Doctor Who". It's a tale that transcends time and space, reminding us that sometimes, the most extraordinary heroes are the ones who simply care enough to stop and help.

THE RANTING BRUMMIE'S MASHUPS: "SNOW WHITE: A TALE OF TERROR" FEATURING THE 10TH DOCTOR & MARTHA JONES

Once upon a time, in a land gripped by the chill of approaching winter and the shadow of the Crusades, a tale of terror and magic unfolded. The noblewoman, Lady Claudia, harboured a dark secret and a growing hatred for her stepdaughter, Lilli Hoffman. But this story takes an unexpected turn with the arrival of two wanderers from the stars: the Tenth Doctor and his companion, Martha Jones.

As the original tale goes, Lilli's mother dies tragically in childbirth, leading her father to remarry the noble yet secretly malevolent Lady Claudia. Driven by a dark mirror's power, Claudia's envy and hatred for Lilli grow, culminating in a murderous intent. However, the Doctor's arrival introduces a beacon of hope. With his TARDIS inadvertently parked in the Hoffman estate's expansive grounds, the Doctor becomes entangled in the family's turbulent affairs.

The Doctor, with his keen sense of justice and adventure, is immediately drawn to the mysterious events surrounding the Hoffman estate, while Martha's medical expertise and compassionate nature lead her to care for the troubled Lilli.

The Doctor, ever the pacifist, disapproves of Claudia's reliance on dark arts and attempts to mediate the escalating tension between stepmother and stepdaughter. His presence at the Hoffmans' ball, an event meant to celebrate the impending birth of Claudia's child, becomes a turning point. When Lilli, in defiance, dons her late mother's gown, the Doctor recognizes the fabric of time fraying, sensing the impending tragedy.

Claudia's descent into madness, spurred by the loss of her child, is met with the Doctor's compassion and a determination to prevent further bloodshed. As Lilli flees into the dark forest, the Doctor follows, not in his TARDIS but on foot, understanding that some paths must be walked, not travelled through time and space.

As the plot thickens, Lady Claudia's true nature as a practitioner of the dark arts is revealed. Her obsession with a magical mirror, which promises her power over all living things, drives her to the brink of madness. The Doctor and Martha, with their experience in dealing with the supernatural and the extra-terrestrial, begin to unravel the threads of enchantment and deceit woven by Claudia.

Lilli, innocent and kind-hearted, finds herself the target of her stepmother's malevolent schemes. After a failed attempt on her life, Lilli flees into the deep, dark forest, where she encounters not seven dwarfs but seven ruffian gold miners. The Doctor and Martha, following clues and using their wits, track Lilli to her woodland refuge.

Together, they devise a plan to protect Lilli and confront Claudia. The Doctor, with his sonic screwdriver and knowledge of alien technologies, dismantles the mirror's magical hold, while Martha uses her medical skills to counteract the poisonous effects of Claudia's spells.

In the climactic battle, the mirror's power is turned against Claudia, and she falls victim to her own dark ambitions. Lilli, with the support the Doctor and Martha, and of her new friends from the mine, reclaims her rightful place in the Hoffman estate, and the land is freed from the terror that once gripped it.

As peace is restored, the Doctor and Martha prepare to depart, their presence in this tale a reminder that even in the darkest of stories, hope can be found, and heroes can come from the most unexpected places. With a flash of light and the whirring sound of the TARDIS, they vanish, leaving behind a legacy of courage and a tale that will be told for generations to come.

And so, the story of "Snow White: A Tale of Terror" is transformed, with the Tenth Doctor and Martha Jones bringing a touch of the extraordinary to a tale as old as time. Their adventure in this gothic landscape serves as a testament to the enduring power of friendship, bravery, and the triumph of good over evil. The end, or perhaps, just the beginning of another fantastic journey through time and space.

THE RANTING BRUMMIE'S MASHUPS: "TONY STARK & THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE"

In the 1987 cult classic "Masters of the Universe", the fate of the universe hangs in the balance as the heroic warrior He-Man and his companions, Man-At-Arms and Teela, battle the dark forces of Skeletor. But what if a young genius by the name of Tony Stark, was thrust into this intergalactic conflict?

On the war-torn planet of Eternia, Skeletor has seized control of Castle Grayskull, imprisoning the Sorceress and planning to claim ultimate power by moonrise. He-Man and his allies rescue the locksmith Gwildor, inventor of the Cosmic Key, a device capable of opening portals with musical notes. In a desperate attempt to thwart Skeletor's plans, they use the Key to escape to Earth, where they encounter two high-school teenagers, Kevin and Julie.

Among their classmates is a teenage Tony Stark, a prodigious inventor on a school exchange program with a penchant for technology and a knack for getting into trouble. Tony, a friend of Kevin and Julie, is fascinated by the Key. Kevin, an aspiring musician, believes the Key to be a new Japanese synthesizer and takes it to a music store run by his friend Charlie. 

At the school, Skeletor's henchmen arrive through a portal and chase Julie, who is rescued by He-Man while he and his companions search for the Key. The henchmen retreat to Grayskull where, incensed by their failure, Skeletor plans to return with a larger force.

As Skeletor's minions descend upon Earth, Tony's ingenuity proves invaluable. Drawing from his early designs of a prototype suit of powered armour he has been developing in his host family's garage, Tony crafts makeshift defences to aid He-Man's fight against the invaders. His garage, filled with gadgets and gizmos, becomes an important strategic meeting point for the group.

However, Skeletor's forces catch up with them, recover the Key and summon Skeletor to Earth. Julie is wounded by Skeletor's lightning blast, which simultaneously erases the memory storage of Gwildor's Key. He-Man surrenders to save his comrades and is returned to Eternia as Skeletor's prisoner. Skeletor attempts to torture He-Man into submission to make his victory complete, but He-Man refuses to yield. The moment arrives for Skeletor to receive the power of the cosmos and declare himself the Master of the Universe.

On Earth, Gwildor and Tony repair the Cosmic Key and Kevin re-creates the tones necessary to create a gateway to Eternia. The group are transported to Castle Grayskull, where they begin battling Skeletor's forces. The final showdown sees Tony don a primitive version of his armoured suit, and he frees He-Man in order to allow him to face Skeletor in one-on-one combat. With Tony's intellect, weaponry and He-Man's strength, they manage to repel Skeletor's forces as He-Man finally defeats Skeletor once and for all, reclaiming Castle Grayskull for the forces of good.

In the aftermath, as He-Man and his companions bid them farewell, Tony is left with a new sense of purpose. Inspired by the courage, honour and valour of his extra-terrestrial friends, he dedicates himself to refining his armour and technology, setting the stage for the hero he will one day become – Iron Man.

This reimagined plot not only adds a layer of technological wonder to the fantasy realm of "Masters of the Universe" but also bridges two iconic universes, creating a thrilling narrative that fans of both franchises would revel in. The inclusion of a young Tony Stark offers a glimpse into the early influences that shaped the future Avenger, blending the magic of Eternia with the marvels of Stark's ingenuity.

So, grab your popcorn and strap in for a wild ride through space, time, and the heart of teenage heroism. This is "Masters of the Universe" like you've never seen it before – where every teenager has the chance to have the power.

THE RANTING BRUMMIE'S MASHUPS: "INDIANA JONES & THE RETURN TO OZ"

In the reimagined adventure of "Return to Oz", Dorothy Gale finds herself once again whisked away from the sepia tones of Kansas to the vibrant and perilous lands of Oz. This time, however, she's not alone. By her side is her daring and resourceful cousin, Henry "Indiana" Jones, whose thirst for adventure rivals her own.  

Dorothy's Aunt Em and Uncle Henry take her to the sanatorium of Dr. Worley, where Indy is studying for the summer. Concerned her continued obsession with the Land of Oz is a sign of delusion, Worley and his assistant, Nurse Wilson, plan to administer electro-shock therapy to Dorothy, before a lightning storm causes a power failure. Dorothy is rescued by a mysterious girl, who tells her Worley's machines damage patients, and the two escape. Nurse Wilson chases the girls into a river, where Indy gets into a fight with her. Indy and Dorothy float away on a chicken coop, unable to save the other girl.

Dorothy and Indy, much to Dorothy's surprise, find they have arrived in a much-changed Oz. They follow a badly-damaged yellow brick road to the Emerald City, which is in ruins, its citizens, including the Tin Man and Cowardly Lion, are turned to stone and a new villain, the Nome King, reigns with an iron fist.

One of the first obstacles they face is the treacherous Deadly Desert that surrounds Oz. The sands of this desert are alive and turn any living creature that touches them into sand. Indy, with his adventurous spirit, ingeniously crafts a pair of makeshift shoes, allowing them to glide over the perilous sands safely. Indy's knowledge of ancient artefacts and history helps them decipher clues and navigate the treacherous landscapes of Oz. Throughout their journey, Dorothy and Indy's relationship grows stronger. They learn from each other, with Dorothy's pure-hearted bravery complementing Indy's adventurous cunning.  

As they venture deeper into Oz, they encounter the Wheelers - sinister creatures with wheels instead of hands and feet, who patrol the ruins of the Emerald City. They are saved by a mechanical man, Tik-Tok, who explains he was told by Scarecrow, the king of Oz, to await Dorothy's return. Indy's quick reflexes with his whip together with is brawling skills, and Dorothy's clever thinking help them outmanoeuvre the Wheelers, using Tik-Tok's mechanical strength to their advantage to escape unscathed. As they journey through Oz, Indy's bravado and adventurous spirit push them to take risks and think creatively. Dorothy, inspired by her cousin's fearless nature, finds a new strength within herself.

Their next challenge comes in the form of Mombi, the wicked witch with a collection of interchangeable heads. To retrieve the Powder of Life, essential for their quest, Indy and Dorothy must sneak into Mombi's palace. Indy's knowledge of traps and stealth from his treasure-hunting experience proves vital as they navigate the dark corridors filled with magical alarms and enchanted sentries. Locked in a tower, the group encounter Jack Pumpkinhead, who explains he was brought to life by Mombi's Powder of Life. Dorothy steals the powder from Mombi whilst Indy constructs a flying creature from furniture and the head of the Gump, a moose-like animal, which flies them across the Deadly Desert to the Nome King's mountain, pursued by Mombi and the Wheelers.

The most harrowing challenge awaits them in the underground kingdom of the Nome King, who has transformed the citizens of Oz into ornaments. The Nome King's cavern is a labyrinth of illusions and riddles, and he challenges the group to a dangerous game. Each must choose an ornament that they believe is a transformed citizen. If they guess incorrectly, they too will become part of his collection. Indy's love for puzzles and riddles comes to the forefront as he attempts decipher the Nome King's cryptic clues. However, the Gump, Jack, Tik-Tok and Indy all fail and are turned into ornaments themselves.

Before Dorothy begins her turn the Nome King reveals he has her lost ruby slippers, which he used to conquer Oz, and offers to use them to send her home instead, but Dorothy refuses. With her third and final guess she selects a green gem, which turns into Scarecrow. Realising inhabitants of Oz turn into green objects, Dorothy finds and restores Jack, Tik-Tok and the Gump. Enraged, the Nome King imprisons Mombi as punishment for Dorothy’s escape, then grows to gigantic size. He prepares to eat Jack, before Billina lays an egg that falls into the Nome King's mouth, poisoning him. Dorothy retrieves the ruby slippers and hurriedly puts them on as the subterranean Nome kingdom collapses. She wishes for the group to return to the Emerald City, where she restores Indy from a green medal on Gump's antler.

The people of Oz ask Dorothy to be their Queen, but she desires to return home, while Billina chooses to stay. Princess Ozma - the girl from the sanatorium and rightful ruler of Oz, who was imprisoned in a mirror by Mombi - is then freed and ascends the throne. Dorothy gives Ozma the ruby slippers, which she uses them to send Dorothy and Indy home, promising she can return in the future if she wishes. 

Dorothy is found by her family on a riverbank in Kansas, where Aunt Em tells her that the clinic burned down, with everyone except Worley surviving. Nurse Wilson is arrested for her part in Worley’s experiments. Returning home, Dorothy sees Billina and Ozma through her bedroom mirror and calls for Aunt Em, but they signal for her to keep Oz a secret.

The film ends with Dorothy and Indy back in Kansas, but this time she has a treasure trove of memories and the knowledge that she has a cousin who shares her love for the extraordinary. As for Indy, he's off to his next adventure, his appetite for discovery as insatiable as ever. "Return to Oz" with a twist of Indiana Jones is a tale of courage, friendship, and the unbreakable ties of family, set against the backdrop of one of the most magical worlds ever created.

ON THE BRINK...

Here we stand folks, teetering on the edge of an abyss where the only thing we can count on falling is the other shoe. The world, in its infinite wisdom or lack thereof, seems to have decided that the brink of disaster is not just a place to visit, but a location to settle down in permanently. 

You might think that the nuclear standoff between nations would be enough drama for one lifetime, but no, the human condition insists on adding more layers to its own melodrama. Russia, that once mighty bear, now growls with the uncertainty of a creature whose den has been invaded by termites of insurrection. The Kremlin, a symbol of unyielding power, now finds itself in the crosshairs of its own citizens, who, it seems, have grown weary of the bear's roar. Assassinations are whispered about like the latest gossip on the Moscow metro. 

Meanwhile, back in the land of the free, or at least, the land where freedom is negotiated through the digital corridors of Silicon Valley, Firefox stands on its own precipice. Not the brink of nuclear war, thank heavens, but the brink of irrelevance. Once the darling of the open-source community, it now languishes in the shadow of Chrome, like a once-famous poet reciting his verses in an empty room. 

But let's not forget the financial brink. Companies, once titans of industry, now stagger under the weight of their own hubris. Stoli Vodka, in a twist of irony, finds itself in the legal equivalent of a hangover, navigating bankruptcy in America while still trying to toast to better times. And the retail landscape? It's like watching the last leaves of autumn fall; Forever 21, a name that now seems to mock its own ephemerality, struggles under the weight of its brick-and-mortar legacy.

In the realm of science fiction, which often mirrors our reality with a touch of hyperbole, we see a narrative of human ambition and folly. The continuous human presence in space, once a dream, now a reality, but with the population count more akin to a village than a bustling metropolis. We dream of stars while our feet are still firmly planted in the mud of our own making.

And what of our cultural icons? Taylor Swift, with the power to sway elections more than any politician, her call to vote more effective than any campaign slogan. It's a world where pop stars have more influence over democracy than the debates of the day. 

In all this, one can only marvel at the human capacity for drama, for living on the edge of one's seat, for creating a brink where none need exist. We've turned the brink into a home, a lifestyle, a permanent condition. And as we peer over, one cannot help but wonder — is there a safety net below, or are we all just learning to fly, or more likely, fall, with style?

Thus, we remain, ever on the brink, with the only certainty being the next crisis, the next scandal, the next chance to see if we can push just a little bit further without falling over. Here's to us, the brink-dwellers, may we never find the bottom, or if we do, may it be soft and bouncy like a cartoon cliff. 

Clive James would have said, if he were here, that we're all characters in a play where the script is being written by madmen, and the only sensible thing to do is laugh, lest we cry.

HOW TO ELECT A BETTER GOVERNMENT

There is near universal agreement that the Conservative Party has run its course. It passed up the opportunity to transform Britain and squandered an eighty seat majority. Not only has it failed to deliver a meaningful Brexit, it has presided over record levels of immigration – contrary to the demands of the majority of British voters. This, however, would be a lengthier post were we to discuss all the failures of the Tory government, and I'm writing this well past my bedtime.

In the grand theatre of democracy, the actors are politicians and the audience, us poor sods, are left to applaud or boo, the system of electing a government has become as predictable as a British summer rain. We all know the drill: stand in line, mark the ballot, and hope for the best, which usually amounts to getting the least worst.

Firstly, let's address the elephant in the room, or rather, the elephant in the polling booth: First Past The Post (FPTP). A system so archaic, it might as well be voting by throwing stones at effigies of the candidates. It's like choosing a fine wine by the thickness of the dust on the bottle rather than the vintage inside. Indeed, FPTP ensures that we get exactly the kind of government we deserve - one where a minority can rule over the majority with the legitimacy of a back-alley deal.

The call for reform is not new; it's been around since the time when "change" was still a shiny penny in the political discourse. Proportional Representation (PR) has been touted as the panacea for our electoral ills, but even here, we find ourselves in a maze of possibilities. PR in its many guises could be the salvation or the further complication of our already convoluted political landscape. 

Imagine, if you will, a royal commission on electoral reform. Picture a room full of bespectacled experts, each with their own pet system, debating whether the Alternative Vote (AV) could be our knight in shining armour or just another horse in the race. AV maintains the quaint constituency system but promises that MPs will be elected by a true majority, not just by the loudest shout in the room. Yet, there's the rub: bigger constituencies, less local connection, and the perpetual fear that we might just trade one set of problems for another.

Then there's the matter of politics itself, the art of the possible, as someone once said. The Labour Party, in its 2024 manifesto, seems to have embraced the idea of improving trade relations with the EU without offering much in return, a bit like asking for a second helping of pudding without finishing your meat and two veg. Brexit has left everyone - Remainers, Leavers, and the undecided - with a sense of betrayal, like a lover's quarrel that ended with both parties more confused than when they started.

On the other side, the Tories, with their manifesto, seem to have lost the plot entirely, appealing to a constituency so narrow, you'd need a microscope to find it. They've turned the Union Jack into a flag of division rather than unity, especially in Northern Ireland, where Brexit has been about as successful as a chocolate teapot.

And then there's Reform UK, with its "Contract with You" - a document so full of promises, it might as well be a fairy tale. They speak of Brexit like it's a golden goose still to be fully plucked, advocating for the revocation of EU laws like a child pulling petals off a daisy, with no thought for what grows beneath.

In Scotland, the SNP's manifesto reads like a love letter to the EU, promising to reverse Brexit's damage, while simultaneously pushing for independence, a bit like trying to hold a snowball together in the Sahara.

So, how do we elect a better government? Perhaps the answer lies not in the system but in the voters. We must become more discerning, more engaged, less swayed by the shiny rhetoric and more by the substance beneath. We must demand not just promises, but performance. We must vote not with our hearts or our fears, but with our heads and our hopes for a future where government truly represents us all, not just the loudest or the richest.

In the end, electing a better government might just require us to be better citizens, versed in the art of holding our elected officials to account, in the dance of democracy where every step counts. It's a tall order, but then again, so is democracy itself.

Failing that, there's always the Official Monster Raving Looney Party. 

THE RANTING BRUMMIE'S MASHUPS - "TERMINATORS OF THE CARRIBEAN: GEARS & GALLEONS"

In the swashbuckling and cybernetic crossover event of the century, "Pirates of the Caribbean" meets "The Terminator" in an epic tale of time-traveling adventure and high-seas hijinks.

The film opens with the infamous pirate Captain Jack Sparrow, who, while evading the British Navy, stumbles upon a hidden cave filled with ancient artefacts. Among them is a strange, metallic skull that whispers of a future where machines rule the seas. Unbeknownst to Jack, this skull is a relic from the future, sent back in time by the resistance to prevent the rise of the machines.

As Jack explores the cave's mysteries, he discovers that the metallic skull is inscribed with cryptic symbols that hint at its origin and purpose. The skull, being a futuristic device, is capable of showing prophetic visions of the future, but only to those who possess the courage to face the truth of what's to come. Jack, ever the cunning rogue, sees time travel as a means to outwit his adversaries and secure treasure that would be otherwise unattainable. He is intrigued by the idea that his actions could influence the future, but he is also wary of the responsibility that comes with such knowledge.

Meanwhile, in a post-apocalyptic future, the human resistance, led by John Connor, is on the brink of collapse under the relentless assault of the machines. In a desperate move, they send back a reprogrammed T-800 Terminator to protect the skull from falling into the hands of the machines' ancestors, the East India Trading Company, who are unwitting pawns in the creation of the future's artificial intelligence.

As the T-800 arrives in the past, it quickly crosses paths with Jack. Initially at odds, the two form an unlikely alliance when the East India Trading Company, enhanced with futuristic weapons provided by the machines, attacks them. The T-800, with its advanced combat skills, and Jack, with his cunning and bravery, fend off the attackers and set sail to find the key to destroying the future AI. The East India Trading Company, led by the cunning Lord Jeremy Starmer, becomes increasingly powerful with the advanced weaponry provided by the machines. Starmer's ambition is fuelled by the promise of ultimate control over the seas, not realizing that his actions could lead to humanity's downfall.

The T-800's arrival in the 18th century is met with confusion and fear. Its mission is clear: to ensure the survival of humanity by aiding Jack and the crew of the Black Pearl in preventing the rise of the machines. The T-800 struggles with its own programming, as it was once a machine designed for destruction, but now it must protect and preserve life at all costs.

Jack also grapples with the moral implications of time travel. He questions whether he should use this knowledge for personal gain or for the greater good. His journey is one of self-discovery, as he learns that his decisions have the power to shape history. Despite his initial reservations, Jack embraces the challenge with a sense of adventure and his trademark flair.

The T-800, a machine designed for precision, efficiency, and following orders, views Captain Jack Sparrow's unpredictable and often illogical antics with a sense of calculated bewilderment. Programmed to complete its mission with the utmost seriousness, the T-800 initially finds Jack's flamboyant and carefree behaviour to be an unnecessary complication in their quest.

However, as the story progresses, the T-800 begins to recognize the strategic value in Jack's seemingly erratic actions. Jack's ability to improvise, his creative problem-solving skills, and his knack for escaping tight situations prove beneficial more than once. The T-800 learns that there is a method to Jack's madness; his unpredictable nature makes him an asset rather than a liability.

The T-800's view of Jack evolves from one of mere tolerance to a form of respect for the pirate's unique approach to life and conflict. While the T-800 does not possess the ability to feel emotions, it does calculate the probabilities of success, and Jack's actions, while unconventional, often shift these probabilities in their favour.

Their journey takes them through treacherous waters, mythical islands, and battles against both man and machine. Along the way, they are joined by familiar faces from both franchises, including Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner and Sarah Connor, each bringing their unique skills to the fight. By the film's climax, the T-800 has adapted to Jack's style, anticipating his spontaneous plans and even incorporating some of Jack's unpredictability into its own strategies. This unlikely partnership between man and machine highlights the film's underlying message: the strength found in diversity and the power of collaboration between different beings, be they human or android.

The climax of the movie sees a grand battle on the high seas, with pirate ships, led by Jack and his crew, facing off against a fleet of machine-controlled ships from the future. As the final battle rages, the pirates and their allies face an armada of machine-controlled ships. The fight is brutal, with both sides suffering heavy losses. The T-800, realizing that the key to defeating the machines lies within itself, makes the ultimate sacrifice. It detonates a powerful electromagnetic pulse that disables the enemy fleet and erases the future from which it came.

In the aftermath, the world is forever changed. The threat of the machines is gone, but the echoes of their existence linger. As the film closes, Jack, now in possession of knowledge of the future, sets off to new adventures, his destiny forever intertwined with the fate of the world, both past and future.

This crossover brings together the best of both worlds, combining the charm and wit of "Pirates of the Caribbean" with the gritty, action-packed intensity of "The Terminator" series. It's a tale of robots and rogues, cannons and cyborgs, and above all, the timeless battle for freedom on the open seas. Get ready to set sail on an adventure like no other!

"I'll be back ... savvy?!"

THE RANTING BRUMMIE'S MASHUPS - "STACKED BOOKS: A BLACK BOOKS / STACKED CROSSOVER.

In an uproarious crossover event, "Black Books" meets "Stacked" in an episode that intertwines the quirky worlds of Bernard Black's bookshop and the Stacked Books café. 

The episode opens with Gavin, the handsome but somewhat clueless manager of Stacked, visiting London for a book convention. He stumbles upon Black Books and is instantly smitten with Fran, who is unimpressed yet amused by his American charm.

Meanwhile, Bernard finds himself accidentally locked in the loft at Black Books after a misguided attempt to find a quiet place to nap away his latest hangover. His only company? A rather audacious rat that seems to have taken a liking to him - or at least to his cheese. Trapped and with no one to hear his cries for help, Bernard must face his fears and outwit his furry nemesis.

Back in the States, Skyler stumbles upon Manny's eclectic video blogs about philosophy and life as a bookseller. Intrigued by his insights and dry sense of humour, she reaches out, sparking a series of exchanges that lead to late-night calls discussing everything from Nietzsche to the best way to organize a bookshelf. 

They form an unexpected emotional connection over their shared love for obscure literature and jazz music. Their bond deepens as they exchange life stories and book recommendations, highlighting their contrasting yet complementary personalities.

As Gavin attempts to woo Fran with his awkward yet endearing attempts at British slang, Skyler and Manny's bond deepens, proving that even an ocean apart, laughter and literature can bring people together. 

As the episode progresses, Gavin's crush on Fran reaches new heights, leading to an elaborate romantic gesture that goes hilariously awry. Bernard's situation in the loft becomes increasingly dire as he resorts to sending SOS messages via paper airplanes.

In the end, it takes a joint effort from both the Black Books and Stacked crews to rescue Bernard and gently let down Gavin. The episode culminates in a comedic set piece where both worlds collide at the book convention. Fran finds herself dodging Gavin's advances while Skyler and Manny finally meet in person, their connection proving even stronger face-to-face. Poor Bernard, in the meantime, finds himself having to adopt the rat as a pet to avoid Black Books being closed by the Health & Safety inspectors.

Through misadventures and mishaps, this crossover episode explores the connections that can form in the most unexpected places, all while delivering laughs and heart-warming moments that fans of both shows will adore.

HOW TO BE A RANTING BRUMMIE

Ah, the art of ranting, especially when one hails from Birmingham, that sprawling, pulsating heart of the industrial Midlands, where the accent alone can carry the weight of a thousand complaints. To be a Ranting Brummie is not merely to speak; it's a performance, a cultural expression, a way of life.

First, let's set the scene. Imagine you're in a kitchen, the kind where the walls are yellowed not by the sun but by years of cigarette smoke, a place where the air is thick with the scent of smoked fish and the sound of overlapping voices. Here, you learn the first rule of ranting: one must never rant alone. It's a communal affair, a symphony of discontent where each voice adds to the cacophony, creating a harmony of grievances.

The Brummie accent, with its 'b's and 'p's that blend into one another like the city's canals, is your instrument. Start with the basics. You must master the art of the rhetorical question, often delivered with a resigned sigh: "Oh, well, who am I to complain?" But remember, this question is rhetorical only in name; in spirit, it's the very essence of your rant, a declaration that you, indeed, are precisely the person to complain.

Your topics are endless, but they must be rooted in the everyday. The escalators at the Bullring, those modern marvels that turn simple shopping into an Olympic sport, provide fertile ground. Why, you ask, must they be so crowded? It's not rhetorical; you genuinely want to know why life must be so unnecessarily complicated.

Then there's the matter of statistics. Brummies love them, especially when they can claim something unique or absurdly specific, like having more miles of canals than Venice. It's not just bragging; it's a point of pride, a testament to Brum's character, which is as deep and complex as those very waterways.

But to truly rant like a Brummie, one must embrace the therapeutic quality of complaint. There's something deeply satisfying about airing grievances, even if it doesn't change the world. It's therapeutic, not because it solves anything, but because it connects you to a lineage of moaners, a heritage of voicing displeasure as if it were a family heirloom passed down through generations.

And do not forget the self-deprecation. It's the seasoning in the Brummie rant, the acknowledgment that perhaps our complaints might be just a tad exaggerated but no less heartfelt. "Who am I to complain?" you ask, knowing full well who you are — a custodian of culture, a guardian of the Brummie spirit, a keeper of the flame of discontent.

In conclusion, to be a Ranting Brummie is to understand that complaining isn't just a pastime; it's a way of asserting one's identity in a world that often overlooks the middle ground. It's about standing up, in your own home or at the local pub, and speaking out, not to change the world, but to affirm your place within it, with every 'mom', every 'bostin'', every shared eye-roll at the state of things. Here's to the Ranting Brummies, the poets of the mundane, the philosophers of the kitchen table, the voices of Birmingham's soul.

DEMOCRACY IS PASSING US BY(ELECTIONS) ...

The recent Wellingborough by-election really highlights some of the glaring issues with modern British politics, which I think are worth highlighting. This result is, despite appearances, a humiliating defeat for the Labour Party. As their new MP Gen Kitchen (yes, apparently this is real a name someone's parents actually gave their child) said:

"I hope Damien is as ecstatic as I am...This shows that people are fed up..."

Kitchen is showing that she is the second-place candidate here; if people vote for you because they are fed up with the person they actually want, that is a failure on your part. Why don't Labour represent something the majority of people actually want to vote for? As Labour leader (half-melted David Coulthard lookalike, Jimmy Saville fan and well-known beer and curry connoisseur) Sir Keir Starmer told the BBC:

"Labour was securing the support of 'Tory switchers' and people who had never voted for the party before." Well Keith, thanks to these wonderful things called results and statistics, we can quantify exactly how many people you're talking about there - 107.

That's right, a measly, pathetic, paltry, trifling and frankly embarrassing 107 people. That's about the same number of stuffed animals, blankets, or other comfort objects that, according to a study by boredpanda.com one-third of adults still sleep with.

The Tories lost nearly twice as many voters as Labour won this by-election with. The Tory vote simply stayed at home, watching old re-runs of Midsomer Murders on ITV3. It seems that people won't vote for this Conservative Party, incompetently run by globalists and back-stabbing gay Mormons (well, if you look at our local MP, Gary Sambrook at least). Representation, not of skin colour, but of people, matters, and whatever Rishi and the rest of those braying ne'er-do-wells in government are doing at the moment, they are not addressing native people's concerns.

The Labour message had about as much cut-through with Conservative voters as a straight razor made of plasticine. The Labour vote was virtually identical to the previous election's number, even with the Tory party in a freefall that would make Felix Baumgartner green with envy.

If the disaffected Tory voters had simply opted to vote for a third party, they would have scored a resounding, earth-shaking win over the other parties. The disaffected Tories represent as many votes as the top three parties won, combined.

Speaking of third-parties, Reform came third with their best result ever by Ben Habib, at nearly 4,000 votes. While this is probably a cause for celebration in the Reform camp, it must surely not be lost on the Reform top brass that this is actually a catastrophe of it's own. Why is it that Reform is making such little headway with the 24,000 disaffected Conservative voters? Why is it they can't persuade more than a few thousand of them to give Reform their protest vote?

It should have been possible for reform to leverage the discontent of Conservative voters to score a resounding victory here, but there seems to be little political acumen in Reform. Reform has many problems, but one of them is not clearly articulating what it is trying to be other than a protest vote. What is Reform's vision for the future of the country? It's hard to say, and one look at the corporate-speak on their website makes them indistinguishable from any of the other parties.

The Kingswood by-election is a similar story: the total collapse of both votes, with Reform unable to gain any ground at all. In 2019, the Tories got 27,712 votes, Labour got 16,492, Lib Dems 3,421. In 2024, the Tories got 8,675, Labour got 11,151, and Reform got 2,578.

What a disastrous result all-round. Again, the Conservatives lost 20,000 voters--an army that wasn't put to any use at all. Labour lost 5,000, and Reform only managed to convert a tiny number to their cause. The same problems as Wellingborough are apparent here: zero interest in the Conservatives, extremely low conversion from Tory to Labour, and a non-threat from Reform. If the Tories could simply get their old voter base out, they would have won both of these by-elections comfortably even if every Reform voter was a defected Tory voter.

By-elections always have a low voter turnout, but even this does not explain the lack of ability for the Westminster political establishment to speak to voters and get them to actually buy into the plan each party is trying to sell. I mean we're not there yet, but we're getting to the point where voter apathy is getting so bad we might as well offer free pizza and ice cream at polling stations, hire clowns and magicians to entertain the voters in line, give out stickers and badges that say "I voted" or "I'm awesome". Give out free puppies and kittens for God's sake. Just bloody do SOMETHING !!

You'd have more chickens turning out and voting for Col. Sanders as the Mayor of Kentucky at this rate.

These by-elections should be viewed as a general humiliation for the entire political class of Britain, who have no idea why they are gaining no ground.

That should take the heat out of Mr Stamer's post-victory curry.

I hope his beer was flat as well.

VALENTINE'S DAY ?? JUST PEGG IT OUT TO DRY ...

As we all know, Valentine's Day is a commercialized, overrated and stressful holiday that puts pressure on men to express their love in clichéd and expensive ways. It also excludes and alienates those who are single, unhappy or uninterested in romance. 

Valentine's Day is supposed to be a celebration of love and romance, but for many men, it's a nightmare. Why? Because they are expected to do all the work, spend all the money, and get nothing in return. Men have to buy flowers, chocolates, cards, jewellery, and other gifts for their partners, spend hours browsing online or in stores, trying to find something that will please their significant other, and avoid the wrath of getting the wrong thing. And they have to pay a premium price for these items, because the demand is high and the supply is low.

Men have to plan a romantic date, which usually involves making reservations at an expensive restaurant, dressing up in uncomfortable clothes, and enduring awkward conversations with strangers. They have to pay for the meal, the drinks, the tip, and the parking. And they have to pretend to enjoy the food, even if it's bland or overcooked.

They have to act like they are madly in love, even if they are tired, stressed, or bored. And they have to perform in bed, even if they are not in the mood or have other things on their mind. Such as how much lighter their wallet suddenly is.

That's why I say enough is enough; I propose that we ban Valentine's Day altogether and replace it with a much more fun and inclusive celebration: National Simon Pegg Day.

Who is Simon Pegg, you ask? He is a brilliant actor, comedian, writer and producer who has starred in some of the most hilarious and awesome movies of the past two decades. He is best known for his roles in the Cornetto trilogy (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz and The World's End), the Mission: Impossible franchise, the Star Trek reboot series and many more. He is also a geek, a feminist, a humanitarian and an all-around cool guy.

Why should we celebrate him instead of Valentine's Day? Apart from the fact that it's his birthday for starters, he is way more fun and entertaining than a box of cheap chocolates or a bouquet of roses from a garage that wilt after a week. His movies are full of action, comedy, satire, horror, sci-fi and even romance (but not the cheesy kind). They are perfect for watching with your partner, your friends or by yourself. They will make you laugh, cry, scream and cheer.

Secondly, he is a role model for creativity, courage and kindness. He has written and produced many of his own films, often collaborating with his best friend Nick Frost and director Edgar Wright. He has also taken on challenging and diverse roles, such as playing Scotty in Star Trek, Benji in Mission: Impossible and Unkar Plutt in Star Wars: The Force Awakens. He has also used his fame and influence to support various causes, such as mental health awareness, animal rights and refugee relief.

Thirdly, he is a symbol of friendship, loyalty and love. He has been married to his wife Maureen since 2005 and they have a daughter named Matilda. He has also maintained a close bond with his co-stars and friends, such as Nick Frost, Edgar Wright, Tom Cruise and many others. He has shown that love is not limited to romantic relationships, but can also be found in platonic ones.

So how can we celebrate National Simon Pegg Day? Here are some suggestions:

- Watch one or more of his movies with your loved ones or by yourself. You can choose from his classics like Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz, or his newer ones like Ready Player One or Slaughterhouse Rulez.

- Cosplay as one of his characters or wear something related to his movies. You can go for a zombie look from Shaun of the Dead, a cop look from Hot Fuzz, a Starfleet officer from Star Trek or a spy look from Mission: Impossible.

- Share your favourite Simon Pegg quotes, memes, gifs or videos on social media. You can use the hashtag #NationalSimonPeggDay to spread the word and show your appreciation.

- Donate to one of his favourite charities or causes. You can find out more about them on his official website or social media accounts.

- Send a card or a gift to Simon Pegg himself. You can find his fan mail address on his website or IMDb page.

I hope you agree with me that National Simon Pegg Day is a much better alternative to Valentine's Day. It is a day to celebrate humour, adventure, creativity and love in all its forms. It is a day to honour one of the most talented and awesome people in the world. It is a day to have fun and be happy.

So what do you say? Are you ready to ditch Valentine's Day and embrace National Simon Pegg Day instead? Trust me: it will be the best decision you ever make. 

And if you don't agree with me, well...you've got red on you.

WHY WOMEN WHO SAY THEY LIKE DAD BODS ARE LYING

New Year, new rant; today, I want to talk about a topic that has been on my mind for a while: why women who say they like dad bods are blatantly lying and actually want men with rock-hard, Men's Health model bodies-style six pack abs.

You know what I'm talking about, right? Those women who claim they prefer a guy with a little extra cushion, who is not too obsessed with his appearance, who can enjoy a pizza and a beer with them. They say they find dad bods more attractive, more comfortable, more relatable. They say they don't care about muscles or abs or veins or whatever.

It's as if the very fabric of human desire has been draped over a slightly paunchy, beer-loving body and declared fashionably chic. You've seen them, haven't you? The men who, instead of chiselling their abs into a work of art, have opted for the more rustic appeal of a beer gut. They're the heroes of our time, not because they've conquered the gym, but because they've conquered the snack drawer.

But here's the truth: these women are lying. Lying out of every possible orifice it is possible to lie out of and more. They are lying to themselves, to you, and to the world. They don't like dad bods. They like six pack abs. And I'm going to tell you why.

Dad bods are not sexy. They are not appealing. They are not attractive. They are not what women want. Women want men who take care of themselves, who work out, who eat well, who look good. Women want men who have six pack abs. Why? Because six pack abs are sexy. They are appealing. They are attractive. They are what women want. Six pack abs are a sign of strength, discipline, and dedication. They are a sign that you care about your health, your appearance, and your partner. They are a sign that you have not given up on yourself.

The term 'dad bod' was popularized by a college student named Mackenzie Pearson in 2015, who wrote an article titled "Why Girls Love The Dad Bod". In her article, she defined the dad bod as "a nice balance between a beer gut and working out. The dad bod says, 'I go to the gym occasionally, but I also drink heavily on the weekends and enjoy eating eight slices of pizza at a time.'"

She argued that women love the dad bod because it makes them feel more secure, more comfortable, and more confident. She claimed that women don't want to date a guy who is too obsessed with his appearance, too intimidating, or too perfect. She suggested that women want a guy who is fun, easy-going, and realistic.

The article went viral and sparked a lot of debate and discussion on social media. Many women agreed with Pearson and expressed their appreciation for the dad bod. Many men celebrated the dad bod and felt relieved that they didn't have to work so hard to impress women. Many celebrities embraced the dad bod and flaunted their flabby physiques.

But was Pearson right? Is the dad bod really what women want?

The answer is no.

Firstly, the Dad Bod phenomenon seems to suggest that women have suddenly, en masse, decided that the six-pack is passé. Oh, how the tables have turned! Instead of the god-like figures of Greek mythology, we're now idolizing the bloke who looks like he might've just woken up from a nap on the sofa with a half-eaten pizza on his chest. 

However, let's not be fooled by this new wave of body positivity. The Dad Bod might be the new black, but fashion, like a fickle lover, can change its mind overnight. Today's "adorable" could be tomorrow's "needs to lay off the chips." Remember, the same women who today celebrate the Dad Bod might tomorrow be lamenting the absence of a gym membership in their partner's life.

And let's not forget the practicalities. While a Dad Bod might be cuddly, it's not exactly practical for those moments when you need someone to move the furniture or carry the shopping without turning it into a three-act farce. 

So, are women who claim to love the Dad Bod lying? Perhaps not outright, but they're certainly glossing over the details. They might appreciate the comfort and the laughter, but don't be surprised if, deep down, there's still a small, secret part of them that wouldn't mind if their partner could just, maybe, lift more than just the remote control.

Women may say they like men with 'dad bods', but their actions speak louder than their words. Women may date men with 'dad bods', but their eyes wander to men with six pack abs. Women may settle for men with 'dad bods', but their hearts yearn for men with six pack abs.

So why do women lie about liking men with 'dad bods'? The truth is that they are only hurting themselves and the men they date by lying. They are hurting themselves because they are denying their true feelings and desires. They are hurting the men they date because they are leading them on and giving them false hope.

So what is the solution to the dad bod problem?

The solution is simple: stop lying.

Stop lying to yourself and to the world. Stop lying about what you want and what you deserve. Stop lying about what makes you happy and what makes you fulfilled.

Instead, start telling the truth.

Happy New Year.