YOU ARE THE HERO: YOU ARE THE HERO has funded!

YOU ARE THE HERO: YOU ARE THE HERO has funded!: In case you missed the news* yesterday  YOU ARE THE HERO  - A History of Fighting Fantasy Gamebooks  - funded on Kickstarter. And Family Gr...

How talking about The Kingdom, prompted me to write about primary, secondary and tertiary bombings

#selfprotectionadvice -

If you see an evacuation on television in your town because of a bomb threat, don't EVER go to that point if there is another threat. Either work out a meeting point in advance, or go home.


Why do I say this? Because we had the unsuccessful bomb attack in Exeter, and they showed the evacuation line. Then we had a 'false alarm' and they did the same thing, and at exactly the same damn place. In that very area, are a number of thick metal bins that, if I was a very bad person, would make excellent places for secondary and tertiary attacks.


They'd even make a great place for a primary, secondary and tertiary attack point. Plant a fake bomb, have everyone evacuated to the same point and then detonate the first bomb. Then wait for the emergency services to arrive and blow the secondary. The tertiary? That's to deal with the second wave of emergency services, who now have to not only deal with civilian casualties, but also deal with their injured friends. The response is immediately hamstrung.


The simple message? Get the heck away as soon as you can. Make plans for this sort of thing in advance.


1) Agree who is going to call who. If you're both trying to call each other, you face the very real risk of engaged lines and a lot of added and uncessary stress.

2) Agree a place that you will meet up in. If you can't meet at that place, have back-up places, or just agree to make your way home (KISS).
3) Do not, never, ever hang around at the evacuation point. It might well be the last thing you do.

Army Tournament 2011 short

iPod Short - Blaise Maximillian & the Black Marketeer

Being hit hurts. That's the whole point of hitting you hit someone to hurt them and stop them hurting you back.

There are a number of things that you can do when being hit in the face. The first is to give in to the pain. Being hit hurts, even the biggest and toughest of bruisers have to admit that to themselves, even if only on a sub-conscious level.

Giving into the pain usually results more pain, as the attacker continues to pile into you and beat you to a pulp. So that's not really an option.

The next thing you could do is to try and reason with your attacker. Attempt to connect with them on an emotional level and help them see that hitting you is not a nice thing to do and that they should stop. Usually reason has gone out of the window by that point. Things have been said and done that can only be fixed by the application of physical force and blunt trauma. unfortunately there are many reasonable people out there who still believe that reasoning with someone is a valid form of self-defence even when the attack has commenced. The reasoning phase has well and truly been passed by that point.

Another option is to try to block and dodge the blows that your foe is attempting to land upon your personage.

Again this is a very flawed option. Granted your attacker might only throw the one punch out of frustration, but if they continue to do so your chances of dodging or blocking every blow lowers with every blow thrown. What this means is that in the end you're going to take a hit. Depending on where this hit lands, your ability to dodge or block more of the blows continues to decrease until your defences are worn down and the tracker can strike you at will.

The final option is to hit back, whilst tying to dodge and block the attacks. By hit back, we're jot talking about throwing a good shot and then trying to get them to back off and leave you alone, we're talking about hitting them so hard and so often that they are too busy dodging, blocking and wincing that they can't spare the time to strike back at you. To act with violence and intent.

This is the option that Blaise took. His whole body shook as the flat-nose bruiser in front of him slammed home a shovel hook that threatened to force his lungs from his body.

GOOD GOD! he marvelled at the fact he could find breath to think, even as his own right cross ploughed into his opponent's face.

Like most men of their age, both were veterans of the Great War, their skills honed in the streets and trenches over years.

His opponent had lived a harder life than he had however. His nose was smashed flat, battered into submission by repeated blows. There were gaps in his teeth, either punched out or lost as a result of the Spanish Flu. Finally, a scar bisected his lips, making him look as though he had a hairlip.

Another sledgehammer blow came crashing into Blaise's arms as he barely managed to get them ip in time.

He snapped out a wicked front stab kick, hitting his opponent's shin with his steeled Loake Brogues. The pain reached his opponent's brain almost instantly and his arms dropped for a split second.

A split second was all he needed. Blaise hooked both hands around his opponent's neck and drove a rear knee into his stomach.

Still holding on he wrenched the man around and drove his right leg forward and down, toes outward, pushing threw the man's knee with a wet crack.

The fight was finished a bare millisecond later as he slammed an elbow into the now exposed throat. Letting go, he dripped the now limp attacker to the floor.

He swayed as he sucked in breath, trying not to vomit as the pain of at least three broken ribs hit home. Finally, he turned and looked at the man behind the desk.

'You are in deep fucking trouble Mr Blackmore. Deep, fucking trouble.' Blaise's voice was still hoarse from the fight and all the more menacing for it.

'Now, now Inspector! I'm sure we can find a solution amenable to the both of us. I didn't realise who you were until William had already attacked you. He's a simple soul and quite tenacious once he gets started.' Blackmore slowly started to count five pound notes off a pile in front of him, a greasy smile flickering across his face. Even though he'd taken no part in the fight, beads of sweat rolled down his face.

'Steven Hope Blackmore, you are charged with profiteering, smuggling, Treason and trying to bribe an officer of His Imperial Majesty's government. Consider yourself under arrest.'

'Wait! I have a thousand pounds here, more than most make in ten years! Take it, let me go.'

Blaise stepped forward and slapped the five pound notes out of Blackmore's hands. He stood over the cowering black marketeer, pinching his nose with frustration.

'You stupid pig! I've got lawyers that will have you wishing you'd never fucking laid hands on me! My customers pay your fucking salary you piece of stupid shit!' spittle flew from Blackmore's mouth, coating Blaise's favourite suit.

'Fuck it'. The words had barely left his mouth before he drew his pistol and shot Blackmore in the face. He reached forward and plucked Blackmore's handkerchief from his top pocket, and wiped himself down. Pocketing the notes that weren't blood spattered, he turned and walked out.

iPod Short - Blaise Maximillian and the trench

Trench warfare is one of the dirtiest forms there are. First off, you have men living in what are basically open holes or buried holes in the ground. Add water to that mix and the men are constantly having to put up with mud.

If you add shit and piss from latrines, and men who have gut rot, as well as rats and the remains of unburied troops - or some of their bodily parts at least - then you have the true meaning of dirty.

That, believe it or not, is not the worst part. The worst part is that once the enemy has struggled across no-man's land, the distance in which you engage them is limited to no more than twenty yards, and often as close as twenty inches.

Trench warfare is personal. The enemy has a face you could put onto any of the lads in your unit. The enemy has halitosis, body odour, fleas and lice, just like you.

The enemy is as hell-bent on killing you, as you are him, and will use any weapon he can including his teeth.

Trench warfare is positively medieval. Serrated bayonets, daggers, knives, bayonet swords, home-made spears, maces, billy clubs and knuckledusters are all used to rip, tear, slash, cut, smash, break and destroy the enemy. Even sharpened spades make excellent tools.

All of this crossed Blaise's mind as he ducked back into cover. The grenade went off with a muffled crump and mud flew everywhere.

He pushed himself up and round the corner, trying desperately to see through the glass goggles on his gasmask, sucking hard for air.

A figure struggled to rise, but the fact it was missing an arm hampered it somewhat. Blaise shot it twice, his heavy Webley bucking.

The figure dropped back into the mud and he ran forward, his foot landing on its head, shoving the face further into the mud.

'Teuffel!' a curtain, made practically invisible by the mud coating it twitched aside as a massive Prussian Guards Officer stepped into the trench.

He gasped as Blaise rammed the Webley under his chin, eyes widening behind his own eye slits. A quick pull of the trigger and the man fell backward down the steps into his bunker.

'Quickly!' Blaise snatched a petrol bomb from the man behind him, lit it, and tossed it down the stairs. The darkness within was instantly removed as the fragile glass broke on the helmet of one of the Prussians behind the officer.

Horrible, piercing, heart-rending screams came from the men as the petrol, soap and rubber mix melted their rubber masks onto their faces. A couple of grenades stopped the screaming, as did the bayonets of the tommies that went down into the bunker.

'Move up!' There was a bend in the trench ahead so he threw another grenade up and over the bend, aiming for a couple of yards beyond it.

'Lovely throw sir, you'd be well placed on the regimental cricket team.' his faithful shadow, the Colour Sergeant was right behind him as ever.

'Thanks sarn't, I didn't know they used grenades as balls!' he moved on before the Colour could reply.

He stepped into utter carnage. The enemy had been in the process of setting up a heavy machine gun. When the grenade detonated, it had destroyed the carriage, turning it upon its crew as it was blasted into so many pieces of shrapnel.

'How far now Colour?' each unit of the attackers had been given a certain sized corridor of operations in order to avoid friendly casualties, and he was keen to avoid any mix up.

'We stop at the next bend sir.' the Colour Sergeant suddenly pushed him out of the way, lunging forward as he did so and bayoneting a Prussian through the head.

'Bastard was playing dead sir. Sorry for the push,' the Colour Sergeant stuck his bayonet into the mud to get the worst of the blood off.

'Not at all, Colour, not all.' adrenaline surged through his body, another dump on top of the previous fighting. Blaise had never felt so alive.

By God trench warfare was dirty, but by God was it glorious!

iPod short - Blaise Maximillian and the sniper

The noise a bullet makes when passing through the air is like that of a bee, an angry bee with a sting that can ruin your day.

A high velocity bullet, can quite often crack past you, like a whip flicking your ear. Whether you hear a buzz or a crack, the end result is the same; you take cover as quickly as you can.

Blaise found his face down in the dark, stinking mud of the Somme before he even realised what was happening. An invisible cloud of foul-smelling gas puffed up with the sound of a wet, trouser ripping fart.

The gas mask did nothing to keep the smell out and his cheeks bulged as his stomach tried to add to the stench by forcing his breakfast back up as well.

He looked down and realised that he was lying on the body of a German soldier, his face snuggling into what he had previously thought was mud, but which he realised was its groin.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and ripped off his mask. Vomit hurtled out of his mouth, so fast that he was surprised at the strength of his stomach.

He put the mask back on for another breath and then back off for more vomit. The chuckles around him from the men he was leading only added to his misery.

'Cheer up sir, I'm sure your boyfriend won't mind you going first!' Colour Sergeant Jones was a mild-mannered, slightly built man, and every soldier in the regiment held him in the highest regard.

It didn't stop Blaise retorting with a muffled 'Fuck off Colour, there's a good chap.'

Another bullet cracked through the air, spanging off the wrecked hulk of an allied tank. Sparks flew through the air and the metal glowed where it had been struck.

'Bastard's got a high velocity rifle. Anyone see the shot?' a chorus of muffled no's rang out.

This was the part of being an officer that he hated. The responsibility for the lives of his men and the authority to make sure he could save as many as possible, or throw them away in order to achieve the objective.

'Jones! When I say, up and run five paces. Everyone else, look for the shot!'

Jones stared over at him, tightly gripping his rifle, the bladder on his mask inflating and deflating rapidly.

'Go!' jones scrambled to his feet and lumbered forward the five paces, dropping down into the mud and rapidly rolling away to a different position.

At the same time the rest of the squad popped their heads up and scanned for the shot. Nothing.

'Fuck! Jones, up five on my command! Go!'

The unfortunate Jones was just scrambling onto all fours when the bullet punched through the top of his head, drilling through his body and erupting from his arse in a fountain of gore. His corpse dropped back into the mud with a macabre tail of guts trailing from his back end.

'One o'clock, two hundred yards. Low wall. Five yard to the nine o'clock of the wall. Watch my shot.' there was a pause as the spotter loaded a tracer round. With a muffled crack, the tracer raced towards its target.

'Fire and manoeuvre in pairs! Fire at will!' shots rippled from the squad as they slipped into manoeuvres that had become second nature. One member of the pair provided covering fire for the other as they ran forward five paces and took cover, then repeated the process.

There was no return of fire from the enemy sniper, and it made Blaise uneasy.

'Colour! To me!' he waited until the Colour Sergeant reached him. He was interrupted before he could voice his concerns.

'Too fucking quiet sir! We should have taken at least two casualties by now.'

The concern on the Colour Sergeant's face said it all.

'We can't bally well fall back in the face of a determined lack of opposition can we Colour. Let's get to the wall at least and see what to do after that. The chaps are nearly there anyway.'

It was true, the closest pair was only ten yards away, close enough for grenades and he watched as a couple were lobbed towards the target.

They had barely finished exploding before the man surged up and charged the wall. A flurry of shots and then silence.

Blaise and the Colour Sergeant stood up and stared as faint shouts of 'all clear' drifted towards them.

'What the ..' the Colour Sergeant didn't get to finish his sentence. The ground erupted with a roar and flames twenty feet high shot from the ground. Blaise watched in stunned disbelief as his men were incinerated where they stood, dying without even screaming as the superheated gases flowed down their throats and cooked their lungs as they instinctively drew breath to scream.

Even at two hundred yards the heat was intense, steam rising from Blaise's wet uniform, the mud drying almost instantly.

Within seconds it was over, the flames dying down as quickly as they appeared. One or two corpses stood, looking like Negro scarecrows, all humanity burnt from them.

'Come on sir, nothing we can do.' the Colour slowly led his sobbing officer back to their lines.

Top ten interview tips - for interviewers

After two weeks of back-to-back interviews, seeing people from all walks of life, genders, and lifestyle choices, I've decided to write a bit of a guide on interviews, from the interviewer's viewpoint.

The reason I'm doing this is because most magazine articles spout the usual sort of thing - i.e., relax, be yourself, dress smart etc, but never do it for the interviewers. So, these are the tips that I have picked over the two or so years and the couple hundred interviews and C.V's I've sifted.

1) Read throught the C.Vs/applications forms on your own. Make sure that you're not only getting a feel for the essential and desirable comptencies, but also for a feel of the person.Have they done spell checking? I can guarantee that if someone says 'I have good typing skills and I'm acurrate' I'm sure I'll find a mistake further on, if not in the actual statement :)

2) Generally, if the supporting statement is poor, the interview will be poor. Anyone who puts in a short/incomplete/badly written supporting statement, really doesn't want this job. Even if it's on a sub-conscious level, they don't want the job. If they did want the job they would have spell-checked and grammar-checked, spoken to friends to see how it reads, re-written it at least twice based on feedback and by reading it with the employer's need in mind. Rather like writing an actual book.

3) Once you've read through the papework, give it a score out of 10 and write down any plusses or cons that the applicant has. Then pass on the paperwork to any colleagues involved in the interview process and get them to do the same. Take the final scores, average them, and make a record.

4) When you've done the above, you can then list the candidates in score order. Those with the highest are the ones you're going to want to interview.

Obviously you may well have to take those that you don't want to interview if you haven't had the right number of applications. You'll be surprised at how your initial scorings match the actual interview results.

5) Dress to impress. If the candidate doesn't dress to impress, it shows a certain lack of true interest in the role. Short sleeved shirts, stains, shirts untucked or too short to tuck in, work boots or unpolished shoes. All of these point to either a conscious or sub-conscious effort to fail. That or they genuinely are sloppy. In which case, do you really want them working for you?

6) Dress to impress too. If the interviewer doesn't dress to impress, it too shows a certain lack of interest in either the candidate, or the role up for offer. If you fail to impress your candidate, and hire them, they'll have their first impression still burned upon their memory; 'sloppy git' is not what you want them to think about you.

7) There's a difference bettween digging for more information, and having to feed the candidate in order to get an answer. If they are short in their answers, dig for more, but don't feed them. For example; 'What are your throughts on customer service and how do you ensure that your customers are left with a positive image of you.' should result in an answer that's about a minute to two minutes long, sprinkled with all the keywords you're looking for.

This is a wrong answer; 'Customer service is very important and you should always be polite and professional.' D'uh, thanks for giving me the most shallow and crap answer you obviously can't be bothered to think about.

Digging would be, 'Okay, so what aspects would you think define being professional?'

Feeding would be, 'okay, so you think that being polite, remaining calm when the customer is confrontational or rude, asking them if there's anything more you can do for them and wishing them a good day is a good example of being professional?'

Digging makes the candidate realise that they've given an answer you either didn't want, or that you want them to expand upon. Feeing is giving them the exact answer and letting them agree to, and build upon it.

8) Don't be afraid to interrupt a candidate if they're waffling. Then dig, don't feed.

9) Always set a baseline score that candidates need to achieve in order to join the hallowed ranks of the 'want list.' But don't let the numbers rule your decisions. Operational aspects and factors need to be taken into account for example, one of the candidates scores 96 and is a sociopath, the other scored 94 and is not a sociopath. Hopefully - unless you're a Top-secret government agency looking for new footsoldiers - you won't be looking to hire a sociopath, so the 'thoroughly decent chap' gets the job.

10) Go with your gut instincts. If you don't like them in the interview, odds are you'll never like them. Why bother with all the hassle, when you can hire people that you do like?

There are more, but these are the ones I feel are the most valuable.

Martial Arts magazines and social media

They used to say that books would die out thanks to the internet and now e-publishing.

'They' weren't really correct in that view, sales have dipped, shops have closed, but books are still being printed and sold in their millions.

One area of print that is taking a beating however, is that of the martial arts magazines. Before the internet, there were only books, videos and magazines to help martial artists in their study. Magazines were king because they ran features on top martial artists, and advertised the books and videos that martial artists would want to get their hands on.

The start of what is turning out to be a slow death - but faster than that of books - was when the world wide web started to become widely used. It started with forums at first, with those forums providing access to a whole slew of martial artists from across the world that many people would never have heard about due to the grip that the magazines had on exposure.

Then, sites like www.practical-martial-arts.co.uk started to put articles up, covering areas of interest that ranged from Chakras through to the then unknown arts of pressure point manipulation. Although amateur in design, the word count was often higher than print, and it wasn't full of advertisements and articles that finished at strange points in the magazines.

The forums continued to grow and then another nail was added to the coffin. YouTube. Knock YouTube as much as you want, with a bit of work a martial artist can find quality resources that will not only help them in the study of their own art, but also arts that might compliment or improve their art.

Now, at the click of a link, any martial artist can find any number of articles or videos on pretty much any subject they want. This accessibility completely negates the need for a subscription to a monthly magazine. Add to that the fact that you can download e-books, podcasts and videos to your phones or portable media players, and you now have people able to access anything they want, without having to wait for their magazine to land on their doormat.

With Facebook, Twitter and Google+, the knowledge share is going to continue to increase, and the hold that the magazines have on knowledge will continue to decrease.

Becoming a bloke

In September I reach my thirty-eighth year. By then, I believe I will have completed my transition into becoming a bloke, in the blokely sense of the meaning. I say bloke, because although I’d like to be a ‘chap’, I don’t have the hair nor moustache-growing ability to become a true chap. For the epitome of chap, check out the Gentleman Rhymer.

I’ve always liked certain things such as expensive, hand-made shoes made from calf leather, decent suits and shirts, good Gin, Whiskeys, Ales but I’ve never had the confidence, nor the money to actually go out and get what I want.

Then I had a promotion, which gave me a boost in my confidence, self-respect and pay.

Prior to the interview, I had purchased a lovely black three-piece suit from Moss Bros., one of their Blazer range. Along with a red handkerchief it made me feel right. People could – and did- take the piss but to be honest, rather than take umbrage, I actually found I couldn’t give a fig for it.

This suit made me feel good. It made me look bloody amazing, and it got me the job. Laugh all you want people, it worked.

Having got the promotion, I thought I deserved to go out and splash the cash a bit. Being a father of two and a doting husband, I find it much easier to spend money on my family rather than myself. I might buy the odd bottle of good whiskey and the latest Battlefield game for the Xbox, but that’s about it as far as truly ‘splashing’ goes when it comes to treating myself.

Not this time. I’d spotted a pair of Loake- Tan 'Chester' gibson brogues at Debenhams, and went straight down there on Father’s Day; two days after finding out I’d been successful. Having bought the Loakes, I realised that I needed to get a suit that complimented them.

One quick walk to Moss Bros. later and I had an amazing Ted Baker Endurance suit in beige, the perfect match for the shoes. I also bought a Rotary on a whim, with a lovely brown leather strap. Not once did I have buyer’s remorse. I felt amazing. The shoes moulded to my feet like slippers, the suit was heavy in all the right places and yet felt like I’d put on a body glove. It all felt so good.

Now, when I go to work, I’m the best-dressed bloke in my area. People still take the mickey about my waistcoat when I wear it, but I really couldn’t care. I’ve gone from dressing for my previous role – jeans and shirt – to dressing for my current role and above. The world truly is my oyster and I’m determined to keep succeeding in all areas, whilst looking and feeling good.

When I’m out with the family, rather than putting on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I put on my linen chinos and a shirt (did I mention that Sainsbury’s do an excellent line in decently priced, but quality shirts and trousers?).

The change has been so radical that I even rotate my shoes so that no pair takes too much of a battering, and I polish them as often as I can. I’ve even taken up ironing to ensure my shirts are sharp enough to cut the dull wit of my detractors.

Not only do I now dress better, the dressing better has improved my confidence. Previously I wasn't one for going out. I used to love clubbing - hardcore, techno, ambient etc - but once I started to get settled down into married life, I lost the will to go out. Trawling around numerous pubs annoys the hell out of me. Find one and settle down for a good night of talking, don't wander around from place-to-place for no good reason other than to burn some calories. I would even say that I went so far as to avoid going out whenever possible.

Last night saw me happily ensconced in Harry's Grill Bar with a friend, tucking into my first Rib-eye steak and enjoying a bottle - between us I hasten to add - of 'The Exhibitionist', a very tasty Merlot indeed! It got to the point where we were going to say 'stuff Harry Potter' and stay in the restaurant. In hindsight, that might well have been a better idea as the film itself was somewhat 'meh'.

I had so much fun, that I'm even considering starting up the Exonian Steak Club, to meet in Harry's and other salubrious steak-cooking restaurants (although Harry's is bloody fabulous). There truly is nothing better than having good food, good wine (and ale) and good company in a place where conversation is suitably muted and you know no-one is going to kick-off because you happened to glance at them. I might sound old before my time but, as I sip my Manstree Vineyard 2009 Mayval dry vintage, I can say with hand-on-heart that I don't care.

I honestly can’t wait to see where my transformation will take me, but I’m fairly certain hitting forty will see me get my first tailored suit. I do wonder whether I’ll be seeing some tweed at some point. I hope so.

Sky - My daughter's Superhero

A couple of terms ago, my eldest daughter came home from school saying that she was learning about Superheroes. My first thought was a rather petulant 'why didn't I get to learn about superheroes at school?', followed by a 'why on earth are they learning about superheroes in the first place and, oh God, which ones?'

Not only did I foresee a bloodbath as the children faced each other down, warring in a Lord of the Flies manner over whether DC or Marvel produced the best heroes (it turns out neither of them do, you'll see why below), I was also worried as to which heroes they would actually learn about.

Batman? God no! He's not so bad as he doesn't use guns and generally 'just' beasts the bad people up. the bad people however, are truly bloody awful and would give my precious daughter nightmares for the rest of her life. That's what I like to think anyway.

Kiss Ass? He does what's right, no matter the price he pays, only his world is inhabited by 'real' people who are just as awful as the Joker, and sweet little girls go around dropping the c-bomb and making their elders drop their guts - literally.

Superman? Probably a good one. Only he's just so damn perfect. Nothing, bar some rare mineral that can only be found on earth as the result of a meteor strike (there do tend to be a lot of them, however), can hurt him and he doesn't age.

Spawn? No. Move swiftly on.

Punisher? See above.

X-Men? Potential. Until Wolverine makes his enemies spill their guts during questioning. Literally.

So, you can see my dilemna. My daughter is going to be exposed to superheroes and will therefore become even more of a fantasy geek than she already is. Awesome. But which superheroes and how are the teachers going to gloss over all the angst and foibles that these superheroes have?

Simple. They got them to make up their own! They had to make up backgrounds, work out their super-powers, draw a picture, make a model and do a short animation! Unfortunately, I haven't had a chance to see the animation.

As you can see, Sky has a decent taste in clothing. The 'w' as looks on her forehead is actually a double S, with the left one reversed.

Her powers are those of the weather. Sky can call upon any form of weather in order to help herself and battle baddies. By this I mean that she can make is incredibly hot, or freezing cold, snow, rain, hail, blow a gale etc. All this and my daughter hasn't seen any superhero films.

The way that they had the children make the models is really clever. The legs and head are actually the top and bottom of a clothes-peg. Ingenious. The body and hair are plasticine, and the face mask is drawn on with felt-tip.

If this is the sort of thing that schools are doing now, I heartily approve as it helps stimulate the minds of all the children in such a way that they forget they're learning, and hopefully gets them into reading about and watching superheroes at an age when it's suitable.