I flee abroad.

Rob and Ori (and Fay) have convinced me that the only way to escape the hordes of autograph-hunters following our every move is to go and do some post-Green Wing development work with them in the Balearic islands for a week. That sentence started off silly, but the second half is true.

That said, the airport we're flying in to is apparently the number one place for CIA secret renditions, so if I don't come back, can someone tell my mum I was right about Rob the whole time, and it was all a trap after all. However if I do see some big men in dark suits hustling someone with a bag over his head into a waiting van, I shall attempt to enforce international law by shouting 'stop, you cunts' and being shot. So that's my plan for the week.

In other news: two of the three things I've been waiting to hear back on (Cornish Teen thing and Superhero movie thing) have just done jolly well, although intensive contract negotiations are being made, so I can't murmur anything other than a quiet 'woo hoo'. The third slot on the fruit machine (the blogcom thing, don't worry, it's won't be called that) is still spinning, but if that comes up with a big pound sign as well, I might go mad and treat myself to a lager shandy top and a bit of a lie-down.

In the meantime why not look at some of the other blogs on the list to the right? Or catch up on the blue cat backstory with some of the posts from when it wasn't the sickening stream of self-congratulation and hair anecdotes it is today:

Sexydancing
Injured Paladin
Doctor Who/Green Wing crossover (rejected)
Lying Producers
The Cornish Birthday Dinosaur (purely because I like the photo)
Apple tree
Being Shouted At In Museums, Part the Second