Johnny Beehive

Tradition has once again reared its horribly disfigured head and plonked that once-bronze, always-bronge man back atop the increasingly unprestigious ladder to your right, booting its rightful owner to the hole that is Silver and once more allowing me to churn out a particularly pointless account thereof. Is this time any different? No — that long quote is still as apt as ever. But it does see the return of the fabled and long-overdue Bard, albeit with no mention of the notorious hotel incident. Nevertheless, here is a review of sorts of the latest instalment. Well, not here exactly, but the next paragraph.

Subtitled Sweet Jesus and The Missing Alternative Dance Troupe, the latest exploits of Detective Ainsley continues Tom's famously dyslexic use of capital letters and SMS-level punctuation in a distressingly sadistic tale of murder, lust and sexual violence. Compelling like only the most gruesome car crashes can be, Tom has topped himself yet again, although he appears to have subsequently come back to life and begun planning the next instalment. Overall it's hard to know what to make of it, but when it includes genius exchanges such as,
"I could murder a curry."
"OK, let's kill the next one who walks past."
I think there's a bright future for the little blood-nut yet.

Unlikely though it is, I'm a bit convinced this recent flourish of Tom's will lead to a resurgence of activity. It won't, but I am now.