You know when you get one of those times where possibly your body had been assaulted and perhaps not in a good way, where even the laws of gravity are not on your side. This was one of those times.

Having gone to bed with a mixture of sleep deprivation, foreign booze and a cuddly toy, I was taken into a world of darkness, and would remain there if only for the melodic ringing of the blackberry at my bedside, informing me that either I was entitled to a special ultra deluxe phone package with 4756746773458734583458345 minutes of free texting for the cheap price of £450 a year plus the body part of your choice or someone wanted to talk to me who was in Estonia.

The ordeal of trying to open your eyes was more traumatic than trying to evade capture by the student people on the streets of London. The pain, the suffering, all that had been before was nothing compared to the sheer strain of letting a glimmer of daylight piece the darkness that had consumed me.

Pressed on I did, until one full eye was open, and I found after a few seconds that I could read again too. It was Steve, just wondering if we could meet up at 11, a mere hour from the phone call. You would have possibly had a safer bet on the plumber not over charging for that bit of bent pipe which costs 50p from the Plumb Center.

But never one to lie down for long, I raised my head aganist my better judgement and made my way out of the sleeping world into the waking one. Not a clever thing to do but there we are.

Once I made it out of the hotel into the cool winter air, things were slightly better. Maybe the cold had numbed the pain coursing through my head…

Once we three had met up in the old town, (Steve, Darren who is Steve’s brother and myself, not the three witches.) it was just enough time to wander around some of the newer parts of Taliann, to see all that we could see. And our epic trek into the unknown, lead us down several streets, mainly as Steve had no real idea where we were.

And then, we needed to buy plates.

So here we are in the epic widerness of estonia, doing what other middle class people do, look for funky plates. Now that’s a story to tell your grandkids…What? OK, how would you describe the experience, like the Disney world adverts where the art of buying plates is magical?

After that epic journey to mount till to pay for said plates, with enough useless banter along the way to annoy Steve such as “I wouldn’t pay that much” and “What’s that smell?” with my favourite being “They’re all bloody white!”, Steve and Darren had to go off to a family outing, in which the two families would either bond firmly or kill each other in the attempt at what was only described afterwards as:

a big place with empty old buildings.

Forgive me if I didn’t orgasm at hearing this.

As for myself, the Lord of Leisure, the afternoon was mine. So what’s the best thing to do? Write up the Blog and then collapse to an Episode of “Have I got News for you?” (The one with Brian Blessed in). Basically, if you go for a heavy drinking session, make sure it’s not at a bar with your favourite show on, in a different language.

A few hours later, the alcohol filled sleepiness now fully gone, the next fun packed adventure brought us to the German eatery known as…err…thingy mcbambrook or something, I can’t remember I’ve slept since then. Let’s have a picture to remind ourselves;

Ok, that picture doesn’t really help matters in terms of identifying where we were at the time, but perhaps it will convey the level of joy that all were having at the time.

No?

Ok, let’s go into detail about the event which will drive you to force a bolt through your cheeks to make the pain go away…Now, during the event the table filled with literally people, required a master, one who would speak for us all, to order the drinks, and he (for it had to be a man) was the single point of contact if anyone had complaints, or required medical attention.

That man was Steve.

I’m not even touching that with a barge pole, so let’s move onto the more interesting fact that we find out on this evening that if the happy couple were to give birth to a boy, he would not be called Luke. The reason was, that Steve wouldn’t get to say “Luke I am your father” then wee himself laughing. Shame really, I’d have a good un…

Everyone ate too much, talked so much about things of the day, all the while, this minstrel band of very attractive ladies who played ye olde type ofe musice, which required every word of the sentence to have the letter e attached. It was the done thing back in those days. But they were very good, and all the while it was only polite to overly clap. A man wanted to dance on the tables, but wanted to ask beforehand, oh and before anyone gets the wrong end of the stick, it was one of the best evenings at a resturante I’d ever had.

The food was beyond excellent, and with all the beer and pear cider, it was way beyond anything I had before and frankly it’s very tempting to go back just for the one meal back there!

Right let’s all pile outside for a picture:

Now, you would think that after one night on the razz, with a fair amount of food and beer mixed with cider in the belly, that would be the ideal time to go back to the hotel, to be fresh for the big day. Well, like the contents of a baby’s nappy, you know that’s wrong. The Lord of Leisure with the Best Man went and drank 2 more litres of German beer at the bar from the night before, where it appeared there were two blokes with guitar who wanted to get things going slowly or badly, bugger knows at this point, and at around 3ish, maybe, I had wandered past the heavy metal bar that had decided to spring up outside the hotel and collapsed into bed, all without wanting a wee all the way home.

GREAT SUCCESS.

Sorry dear campers, I’ve been very busy this week with work and then the last few days, I have also been ill, leading to the point of redecorating Poplar Docklands Light Railway Station Platform 3 with the contents of my stomach.

I’m slowly getting better and more than likely, the chaos will continue post haste.

One thing’s for sure, when you get Bangalore Belly, you really do get it!

One of the best things of wandering around in another country is taking things the wrong way, so why not keep up that tradition right now?

Upon seeing this sign, you kind of wondered if that execution tape was real, and they did actualy kill him in Iraq….

And here it appears Estonia has a drugs problem, and they are in need of people to help clean up….

After the wonderful night in the Airport, at 4:45am, I was finally able to check-in and move one step closer to getting away from the damned place which forced the perpetual state of drifting in and out of consciousness with questionable amounts of caffeine and Wallace and Gromit saving the day against the were-rabbit.

The entire process was in fact speedy and painless in terms of checking in, however when it came to going through security, that took far longer.

As mentioned on the previous post, where I was still awake at 2:25 in the morning, I had been chatting to some of the staff onsite at Stanstead and they were telling us of the expensive operation they now had in place in order to deal with the less savoury individuals of the world.

Now I had the chance to experience this first hand, having not been abroad since the trip to Prague some months ago, and Liverpool Airport had next to none of these measures in place.

Even at 5am in the morning, the queues were swelling.

You see, now because they can’t trust anything you have on your person, you have to take it all off. Coats, shoes, belts and in one case with a Frenchman, his trousers. It’s not a nice slight seeing a man walk through a metal detector in his underpants.

Your laptops, if you were lucky enough to have one to kill the boredom of cheap flights to various places, had to be out of their cases and placed separately to go through the special scanning equipment.

Any liquid you had on your person must be placed in clear plastic bags, and then these are randomly tested to ensure you have no napalm where you assured the security staff, it’s just Coke gone slightly off. Some of the lucky few, I have no doubt went to a private room to have themselves searched by a big burly woman called Dave.

After a short period of time enjoying that (not the search…), only the departure lounge was the barrier to freedom. And all the shops are a barrier to keeping hold of your money. If you love the toilet water they sell in those silly bottles, you are in for the time of your life. Beer was consumed en masse, expensive cameras were sold by the bucket full, and the flush in the toilets was broken.

So the whole airport experience while being at Stanstead can be summed up as: Crap.

But enough of that debauchery, let’s move onto while I’m typing here instead of getting overly drunk at the Bavarian bar.

The flight was short and actually quite smooth, smoothest flight I had in quite a long time, and this was a worthy point of interest as I hate flying, just the thought that you’re a few miles up in the air with galleons of explosive fuel and the only way is back down.

Flying is the safest form of travel according to various people and the news, but all the while you are smiling and being fine, ear-raping the person next to you, the only though going through your head is: We’re going to die. It might be safe, but when it goes wrong, it goes very wrong.

And after the flight, that’s when we all met up for the first time, Steve along with two of the bridesmaids had met up with us at the airport to escort us around, get used to the place and also for free chocolate which is a welcome bonus.

The first thing which hit you when leaving the airport is: F**k me, it’s cold. It’s only late September and you would expect things to start cooling a bit but not much. But no, as it stands, it’s warmer back in London. And here’s me with my bathing suit.

Secondly, the resemblance to the architecture in Prague is uncanny, just have a look at the picture of the typical street here:

I swear it’s the same and perhaps it’s what it is like in quite a lot of the eastern European countries like scrovonia, volvonia and all the others (believe it or not at least one of those names came up during a tour of the old town) ending in nia.

Now, after being up for close to 36 hours, you would think it would be a excellent idea to stay in the overly nice Hotel room with some free Wi-Fi and just watch dirty movies from the internet, but nope, that was clearly out of the question as there was a tour scheduled by our Butlins Holiday representative, Steve.

And here is a group picture of everyone on the tour:

Err, ok, it’s not the best group photo you ever expect to see, but it’s as close as I’ve got so far. And as for telling you who some of the people are in the photos, I keep forgetting everyone’s names, I know some people are there from back up Telford, some are Steve’s family and the rest….bugger knows.

The tour guide was the last bridesmaid who as part of school learning, had to give a tour of the town to her teachers and therefore was in a good position to tell all about how many times Estonia has been occupied over the years, by Germans a number of times, then Russians, then some other naughty people, then Russians again or something then finally they are free to do what they want, any old time.

Until someone else comes along.

The tour went through more of the old town, and so did the wealth of knowledge we were gaining every second. Estonians invented marzipan and torture hence why they have museums dedicated to both which is nice, and also the KGB building now lies in ruins, but the basement is still fully populated. Think about that one, and then you’ll need a shower….

We stopped for a cup of tea at a nice place up a cobbled hill, and wandered around to what was initially mistaken for a mini kremlin, just in a different colour:

Turns out it was a church, and speaking of churches, there are many places of worships though it appears these buildings are as packed as the other places of worships, those places are commonly known as “Strip Clubs” or in Estonian: Eroticaa Show.

You see, unbeknownst to the Lord of Leisure, it appears Estonia has become the latest place in Europe to become Club 18-30 and about to be married, hence why many Stag and Hen parties come here. And what do they want when on a stag doo, of course, it’s naked people and booze.

If I have the need to watch bouncy boobs, all I have to do is literally walk downstairs, as there is a strip joint built under the hotel where I’m currently staying.

I can only imagine the jealously of certain people back home right now…. yes you know who you are.

We ended with a litre of booze and some food at a German bar where there were great numbers of staff bored out of their skulls, women dressed as wenches with enormous cleavage and men who were feeling huge shame at wearing lederhosen.

After everyone talked about what was going on etc, we parted ways, Steve and his brother Darren was off for a meal with the parents while everyone else went home.

Everyone except me.

I went to another bar and got drunk on more beer while watching Stargate SG-1 in Finnish with Estonian subtitles. Being the geek I am, I even knew all the way through what was going on, and was explaining to my new best friend what it was all about as he hadn’t seen it before. And we even discussed about being a DJ, which was bizarre but hey ho, it’s a living.

And after collapsing in the hotel room, overly tired and drunk, thus ended the first day out in Europe, one can only wonder what’s next…

As I write this, it’s 2:25am on a brisk Thursday morning, and all the while every creature on the earth is stirring if the noise is anything to be believed. I’ve even got to the point where I think the cleaner man is enjoying going up and down the check-out where everyone is trying to sleep, just because he’s stuck on the crappy night shift.

I’ve had to reside myself to the fact that there is not going to be much sleep between now and the now agonising flight out to the forbidden planet, or whereever it is, I’ve forgotten at this point. I suppose it comes from a combination of sleep depravation which has all sorts of funny side effects which come into play at some point, like getting twitchy and hearing more voices than usual.

To combat this, I’ve taken refuge in the Costa Coffee place next to the building site they seem to have errected in the middle of the check-in area, which is kind of daft considering it also appears the workmen are enjoying themselves at this time of the day too.

It was also interesting to chat to a couple of the airport staff, as they brought up the issue of liquids still being disallowed on all flights, in case we have the thoughts “I can’t take any more, goodbye cruel world!!” and detonate the handy liquid bomb we just happened to carry at the time.

Millions of pounds they say it costs, and it will never be changed owing to the fact that the shoe bomber of yesteryear, Richard Reed’s own device was clear liquid, and was not really distingishable from water. Eep. This does kind of beg the question: Would these measures really stop someone who was determined, seeing as it was easy to mix in with something else?

Of course time will tell on that score.

Ah well, those matters are for another time, for now, let’s keep back the wave of tiredness with an overpriced and under tasty coffee drink. Take it easy campers, and sweet dreams.

After yet more happenings in the world which will have all the people who care dearly for their pound coins crying after another day filled with issues for those lovable bankers (I wrote bankers), it’s nice to get away from it all. To wander off into the wilderness, to seek out new life and new civilisations. To boldly rip off that sci-fi series’ catchphrase like everyone else has done before.

That’s what is in store for the Lord of Leisure, as he boards the freedom train. WHOOP WHOOP!

Well, ok, the freedom train is actually a plane, and the destination isn’t the sun swept islands we all know and vomit over which also happen to feature in all adverts for Bounty chocolate and that holiday place that doesn’t like gay people.

Two people, a man and a woman who for the sake of illustration, we’ll call them Steve and Kristi, because that’s their names are soon to embark on the soul destroying, argument ridden and possibly life threatening journey which in some cultures, is called “Marriage.”

Ok, the above isn’t going to happen, but come on, those who are married for a long time always paint a really bad picture of it, and you do end up wondering why the hell it ever happens, but happens it always does.

Meanwhile, the happy couple are going to be tying themselves up in a knot, over in the world class holiday destination Estonia, filled with…err…Estonians….and…..light bulbs…OK, I have no idea what is out there really, but shortly after a booze filled evening stuck at the airport then struggling to stand up, let alone make it through the check in process, and evade having a cavity search, I aim to find out what is there.

Saturday is the blessed day when it all occurs and I hope that the readers here raise an imaginary glass filled with milk for the bride and groom in celebration. There will be lots of pictures aplenty and maybe a story to tell about the lack of towels in the hotel room in the days ahead but for now dear campers, ALL ABOARD!!

Lehman Brothers.

Ah, Already you will know where tonight’s blog post is going, you already have a sense of fear and trepidation. Sweat may be going down your face, as you start wondering what’s going to happen next.

Or, you could be laughing yourself silly.

When I read the news this morning about the fact that Lehman Brothers, the world’s forth or perhaps now former fourth largest investment bank, had filed for Bankruptcy, a sense of Schadenfreude had overwhelmed my senses, leaving a rather wide smile on my face.

Schadenfreude, is a German originating term used to convey the delight humans take when others fall down. We all have this sense, when the rich and powerful become the poor and drunk, or when someone falls over in the street and hurts themselves, somehow we feel better. Where else does a phrase “let’s all point and laugh children” make so much sense?

So when it came time to point and laugh at this latest occurrence of yet another bank gambling with people’s money without thinking, I failed to even feel sorry for the people who have lost their jobs at the hands of some city boys hell bent on chasing their million pound bonus checks, spending other people’s money as though the world would end the next second.

These people, some of them were only going there to make ends meet like the rest of us, now have to trawl around the job market, as shrinking as it appears to be, looking for something else to stave off the nasty people who take TVs away.

The thing is, these people will have no problem in finding another job in London, there are countless adverts every day asking for office staff, perhaps not for all staff but if they want means to live, the means are waiting for them.

But what about those idiots, who enlist far less sympathy from us mere mortals, what about all those f**kwits who caused all this trouble in the first place?

Well the big wigs at the top, they get payoffs as per their badly drafted contracts and therefore will actually be laughing all the way to, well, another bank in any case.

And as for the people who actually help create all the bad debt, with the blessing of the big wigs, they will be either left without a pot to urinate in, don’t know how to cope, fall down in a drunken hole, or perhaps just maybe, they take that trip around the world they’ve all been planning with their £120,000 bonuses.

But the main thing is: They get away scot free with no consequences aside from perhaps unemployment for a short time. Maybe.

And now these useless f**kers it appears somehow have made things worse for everyone.

Let’s start with housing as that’s always a good button to push when you want to make the world blow up. It was amazing how everyone was quick to state that the housing market is now affected by this latest collapse.

Surely house prices are only a concern if you are buying or selling a house? Otherwise it’s a home you live in and as long as you can pay the mortgage, you have no problem. Mind you, why the hell does the US housing market affect anyone else, I mean who would actually spend UK citizens’ money on foreign markets just to make a quick few pence?

They should make far more than enough from the interest on people’s mortgages alone, considering people pay about 5 to 6 times back the amount of the original loan was. Get a calculator out and work it all out with the interest over 25 years for a standard term and your mouth will hit the floor quicker than a chronically depressed lemming goes to leap off a cliff.

But hold on here, it’s not as simple as making lots of money without much effort, there are other factors to throw into the caldron of the damned.

Everything has been going up in price from utility bills to haircuts, things were so overinflated in price for no real reason whatsoever (trust me, I’d love to ask the real reason why prices just get pushed up without any real reason other than these so-called market traders being worried that someone having a poo next to an oil refinery means doom) that this was going to be a common occurrence sooner or later; you would be forgiven for having a complete lack of surprise over all this.

The amounts being quoted in the news with all this mess is well, ok, when did everything become billions here and there, spent like petty cash? This kind of money is obscene, plain and simple. (if someone starts a speech about the money being spent on premiership football, that’s it we’re finished.)

As I type this column, experts have been called in to blame everyone they can think of, the banks, the governments for having low interest rates and allowing us to do what we want and just people for doing what the banks wanted, create mounds of debt. Hell, let’s blame the parents and the devil for making us all greedy while we are at it. Throw in Global warming and you can shout “BINGO, we have a winner!”

But they did touch on one nerve, which does make good sense. We are a consumer-based society. We have been told by various bodies of the world, that buying all this stuff is good, and you need this wallpaper, that arm-pit hair remover and once you have it, you will feel very good.

We don’t really produce anything in the UK any more, we import from elsewhere because it’s cheaper and exported work elsewhere.

And now it’s all coming home to roost. Perhaps now they see one of the downfalls of today’s society.
Enough with the blame, what can be done about it? No-one has the answer at the moment, and no-one ever will. People have been making things up as they go for years, so what the hell, let’s keep going. Things will get better again, they always do.

And that’s the reason perhaps why I’m still laughing, enjoying the downfall of so many. It will probably carry on in this silly fashion for many centuries to come from now on and so many things make so little sense now, that hell, let them carry on and we’ll just sit down and have some pie.

It’s worked for this long, why change the way things are now?

There have been many great games over the years, Fallout, Freespace, MDK to name but just a few. Back in the heady days in the nineties when a lot of them were released, the internet was still getting going in terms of mass consumption, Google was a pipe dream, and porn was only available for those willing to wait 28 minutes for one decent image.

People were happy, the most we had to worry about (aside from the Gulf War)was Bill Clinton doing naughty and gay was still a word which meant happy and not the fact that you enjoy investigating other people’s bottoms, possibly sending a canary in first to see if it was safe.

Who wouldn’t want to relive some of those moments, albeit confined to the gaming cyberspace of your home computer?

The problem these days, most of the old games now will not play on our super-deluxe-cyber-squatting-eating-beasts-of-burden with that Frankenstein’s monster from Microsoft, Windows Vista all running in the background, instead those machines prefer burning villagers while asking “can’t we all just get along?”

So a great number of gaming’s finest hours are lost.

Well inject your arms with cocaine no longer, because a brand new service, Great Old Games, or GOG to its mates, located at www.gog.com now provides a limited number of people (myself included) with the ability to purchase all these old classics, which they have tweaked and massaged into running on modern day equipment, all for a reasonable price while they are at it.

Most games are priced at $5.99, which given the current state of economics means a game costs us British people about £3.50. Not bad in the grand scheme of things.

But the icing on the cake was that fact that for a limited time, there was a two for one offer on old Interplay titles during September from the service. Then they throw you the biggest bone to make you throw more money away, the filthy bastards.

Descent 1,2 and 3

Due to the offer, I had the complete set for £3.50, fully working on my modern day uber-beast and basically the feeling I had was when a fat man watches two ultra sexy ladies wrestling in beans, then they got out of the beans, and someone handed the fat man a spoon to clean up.

Descent has been mentioned a couple of times here in the past, but it’s so good, it’s in need of special attention here once more. Since the demise of Interplay, we’ve not really had a true 3D environment experience flying around endless mazes defeating hordes of bad robot things, blowing up a reactor which for some strange reason shoots at you, and then you try and get out of the mines before they explode.

To this day, some people even claim to suffer vertigo from playing the game, due to its full on disorientating nature, and there is still the lingering feeling that you wish you had a pyro spaceship, just to sort out all the traffic blues of today.

I look forward to the day that Descent 4 is brought back from the land of development dead, and that they provide the ultimate experience on modern day equipment. But in the meantime, you can have a go with the previous games, all for not much layout, and a lot of time, it walks all over a lot of the games being provided today.

Perhaps that’s the best part of all here, people who didn’t have the opportunity to play these games the first time they launched on the scene now do, and they don’t have to worry about not running them either.

GOG.com have pulled out all the stops with providing you with the ability to play the game with today’s tech using of all things; DOSbox which allows older apps to run without too much issue, but it’s been tweaked for each application.

Installation is straight forward, TCP networking (the network used today as opposed to banana skins and egg shells of yesteryear) has been sorted out for playing on normal servers, the full CD track is there for bounce to as you destroy another silly robot thinking it’s clever to pick on the guy with giant freaking lasers, and you even have optional extra downloadable stuff like the music and guides.

The games are even DRM free, and there’s no issue with installing on all your machines either. Ah, just like mamma used to make. If you have issues, they are forums where they respond very quickly and you can email support at any time with queries. Assuring is a word to use here.
Descent 2 took up a huge amount of time this weekend, and it cost about the same as a really expensive coffee drink with the foam from a rabid dog on top. Lasted longer too.

So to sum up this little diversion into the gaming past, you really just hope GOG finds its footing and becomes successful. Providing the games of the past to run on today’s equipment, for not much money and no restrictions, who could argue about that?

Wednesday was a great day, and beside the celebration of of the birthday with friends and family, which always seems to be an award winner, of course the day of graduation from Wolverhampton took place, the main thing I suppose to take away was the fact that after all that effort, the time taken away from the the blog and other things being stranded in the Arctic tundra all that time, getting cold and losing games of ludo to the polar bears, it was all worth it.

And finally here are only just a couple of pictures from that day:

The three surviving contestants on the long windy road which lead us to this point, or course you may recognise the world renowned Lord of Leisure, wanted in three countries for his severe criminal case of apathy. We then move to the middle of the pack, Paul Bremer, a man who defies gravity on a daily basis with his secret machine of lies. Lastly of course, we present Mr. Steve Middleton, the man who remained confident to the last that all would be well, even when it got hugely annoying, er, I mean inspiring….

And here we are again, this time including the guest star from that memoerable blog post, er, whateveritscalled, Mummy. This time of course, without any remarks pertaining to her bottom. It would be the last time we see everyone before the journey to Estonia next week, to see Steve get married to a woman. Finally the rumours can stop…

And after collecting these fancy dresses, we wandered off to the Grand Theatre and then proceeded to sit down in a rather fancy looking auditorium. It was all very grand, up until the speeches started.

I swear my brain was melting.

I have no idea who the hell the first two people were who received their honorary degrees, but it turns out they wanted to ask people to take a career up with either the police or the teaching system. While we’re at it, why don’t we just ask everyone to kill their first born or take up golf, both are horrible ideas.

At least afterwards it was our turn. But even then we had to wait till the end, what were we, leapers? As people were getting their things with fancy prizes, I was wondering; Why the hell didn’t we get any fancy prizes for this? Not even a cuddly toy?

Slowly but surely, we all meant up and down that stage collecting our tokens of honour and then back down again. Then after another speech about the rainforest or the 2 for 1 special offer at Asda, who knows, I wasn’t paying attention at this point, we were finally free!!! FREE!!! AHAHAHAHAHA!

I assume no more illustration of joy need be applied to the page…

Thus ended one of the best days I’ve had in a long while. Things, it seems, have only gotten better. Granted, self adulation is a horrible thing these days, and something that people hate to see, but considering the fact that so many people have it so bad in many ways, that the few times we actually win through at something and succeed, it should be celebrated or at the least recognised in some fashion.

So I raise a glass of moderately priced cider, to Paul and Steve, brothers in arms through this business, and let’s hope more good things come our ways.

So another year has been and gone, The Lord of Leisure is now the wrong side of 25, which only means the belly gets larger, the chins become numerous and the flatulence gets unbearable.

Basically, for all intensive purposes, I can no longer pretend to be young. For once I have to now face the stark reality of being 2/3 to 1/2 way through my existence and pull my socks up. So no more eating super noodles from a shoe, no more wiping my face using next door’s cat, and no throwing up in people’s hats.

Time to act my age. Time to get together a plan to define what I am to do with life and stand up, be counted, no time to stay below the masses without making any impact. No more should this manly man stand by while evil wanders across the land and up ladies’ skirts.

I feel sick now. Maybe I should slow down and just take it one step at a time, like trying to get dressed without getting stuck in the dishwasher again…

On the plus side of course, we are still technically alive after the switch on of the giant donut over in Switzerland which may or may not destroy the world. Well, strictly speaking, they haven’t started the dangerous reactions yet. That’s in October, so hold onto your butts for a while longer campers.

And of all things, today of all days, it is also the birthday 100th Podcast of Gamers with Jobs featuring Ken Levine once again of Bioshock fame, a bizarre song from a fella called Sumberland and yep, another advert which I created a long time ago about Bioshock’s character Andrew Ryan’s first venture before he created the underwater city of Rapture.

Just the fact that got played for the man who created the game was more than enough, so go here and listen to the whole episode, it’s gold from start to finish and frankly, here’s to another 100 episodes of GWJ.

HOORAY!!!!

Stay tuned tomorrow for pictures from the day’s events where for the first time possibly you will see the Lord of Leisure looking respectful. We apologise for any fear this may cause!