Lawrence Miles

"This shit just got real."
- Captain Picard complains about sanitary conditions on the holodeck.

hear me out

[Narrows eyes.] I can see why they let you replace me.

BECAUSE THERE'S A GREMLIN ON THE SIDE OF THE PLANE AND ALSO THERE'S A COLONEL ON THE SIDE OF THE BLIMP

FREEVIEW 41 NOW THAT "TWILIGHT ZONE" WITH SHATNER ON THE PLANE WITH THE GREMLIN

Wait... wait, I'm hearing... [listens to earpiece] ...yes, this is it. This is finally it. The swing has happened.

Today is the day when we stop referring to capybaras as "giant guinea-pigs" and start referring to guinea-pigs as "mini-capybaras".

Look at these fucking pick-me's.

I hate it when they oversexualise sci-fi costumes.

Did an American write this? Because I'm not sure anyone else would use "trapped" to mean "surrounded by territory we'll never visit, but should definitely own".

I've never played "Resident A/V Woman", but I understand it's part of the game lore that if she bites you then you become the new -

- OH GOD IT'S YOU GET AWAY FRO

- I'm from the edge of London, and when I mentioned this to my cousin from Manchester, he said they did exactly the same thing. Even though it's hard to imagine how it'd spread.

Clearly not universal, though...

When we were sat in the hall to watch schools' TV and That Clock appeared, we (all right, just the boys) felt we had to prove ourselves by holding our breath/s until the last tick disappeared. This became so performative that as the clock reached zero, half the class would loudly go "PAHHHH".

BUT -

If I told you that I instinctively held my breath, would you know what I meant?

ME [waking from a nightmare]: Gandalf Hitler!
MY WIFE: Yes, mein liebchen?
ME: Oh, thank God. I dreamt something terrible happened to you.
HER: My poor sweet weltzschmerzhase! Here, let me cast the rune of summoning pancakes.
ME: Can you make the magic pancakes less racist this time?
HER: Ha ha! No.

I just woke up and said "Gandalf Hitler", and I have no idea what I was dreaming about.

Well... possibly Gandalf Hitler.

From the woman who brought you: "Speaking of the good old days, what was the name of that programme we used to watch on BBC4 that was like a Victorian music-hall?"

Du'aine Ladejo, explaining to his grandkids: "No no, that was just my 'Gladiators' name. This isn't a news headline. No, I am *not* on a regis... what? I don't know why, I didn't choose it, they probably just thought it was a cool-sounding... yes, I know what 'hiding in plain sight' means. Listen -"

Cf. Douglas Adams' three phases in the history of warfare. Retribution: "I’m going to kill you because you killed my brother." Anticipation: "I’m going to kill you because *I* killed *your* brother." Diplomacy: "I’m going to kill my brother, then kill you on the pretext that your brother did it."

Merchandising idea: a range of "Land Before Time"-themed sex toys for women. Whether you prefer the "Long-Neck", the "Three-Horns", or the "Club-Tail", we've got something to fill every evolutionary niche.

The universe hasn't quite understood "compliment sandwich".

"Mr Pye" was broadcast across the month of my fourteenth birthday, and I had very different ideas about what the good bits were.

(Also I really liked it. But... yeah. My First Tits.)

I think its writer thinks it's (a) because he can't imagine (b). The protagonist hates pluribus because she's a writer who treats everyone else like shit, therefore it has to be (a) because it gives her superiority and justified self-loathing*.

*I absolutely haven't seen "Pluribus", I hate writers.

P.S. I haven't seen "Pluribus".

For me, the ethicality of the Pluribus virus rests on one question. Is it the case that:
(a) 7bn people had their own identity, but now 7bn people have one identity? OR
(b) 7bn people had their own identity, but now 7bn people have 7bn identities?

If it's the latter, I'm fine with it, to be honest.

[DOCTOR wakes up screaming in bed.]
WIFE: Darling, what's wrong?
DOCTOR: I... I thought...
WIFE: Shh, darling. Whatever it was, it was only a nightmare.
DOCTOR: Yes. Of course. Only a nightmare.
[He turns to face her. She is Pagliacci.]
PAGLIACCI: I love you.
DOCTOR: I love you too, Pagliacci. (3/3)

RECEPTIONIST: Your next appointment is here, doctor.
DOCTOR: Not now! [He turns back to his patient. But the chair is empty.] Oh God.
RECEPTIONIST: Is something wrong, Dr Pagliacci?
DOCTOR: Dr Pag...?
[He stands, and looks in a mirror. His face is that of a clown.]
DOCTOR: NOOOOOOO! (2/3)

DOCTOR: The treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town. He'll soon pick you up.
MAN: But doctor... Pagliacci died ten years ago.
DOCTOR: What?
MAN: Don't you remember? He came to you with acute depression, and you treated it like a joke. He took his own life two days later. (1/3)

American foreign policy has gone from sounding like a Saturday-morning kids' cartoon to sounding like an advert for action figures based on that cartoon.