And you arguably can't do 'Rubbish space spies' because that's either The Expanse or the folks who think everything loosely near future is The Expanse will think it's The Expanse. (Only being slightly snippy. Been a shit month by and large, and sometimes even I get grouchy).

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Every time it's Slow Horses season I think about the weird connection in my mind between that and this: allpoetry.com/poem/8496359... And write 'Post-Apocalyptic rubbish spies?' down somewhere. Because you can't do 'Rubbish Monster Spies', because that's Hellboy.

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This has been a fucking horrible month, for the most part, and I'm dealing, some days, with grief, anger, my Justice Sense screaming that INJUSTICE HAS BEEN DONE when it's just brutal, stupid math(s) and crushing, furious exhaustion. Every single post in this thread helps.

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So there's an essay I first wrote in, fuck, July? for Full Lid that is currently the Halloween issue. I've revised it at least six times. Pretty sure this one's the charm. Still don't think it WORKS fully, but that's the job.

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Five years ago today, we acquired this goblin prawn.

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