Ray Bradbury - The Silver Locusts

This shift, I've been getting through my elegant, silver be-covered 1960s paperback of The Silver Locusts, a 1950 Ray Bradbury novel that seems to have been collated out of a serial, or collection of short stories, from Pulps like Amazing Stories.

I've not finished it yet, it is hard to get a proper reading stint in when you're surrounded by loud folk whose idea of a cultural decision is whether to watch "Top Gear" on Dave or Dave Ja Vu. But after a sticky start where the rather "folksy" language somewhat bogged me down, I've found myself drawn deeper and deeper into the story by the dreamlike construction and western pioneer fairytale atmosphere.

The chapter where someone constructs "The House of Usher" on Mars, and populates it with double bluff calling robot doppelgangers, is an absolute standalone standout. The Martians themselves, in contrast with the zippered green suits and antennae creatures of the sci fi of the times, are never truly revealed in themselves - they exist only as delusions of loss and desire in the humans that see them.

Think of the alien manifestations in Carl Sagan's "Contact", and The Gelf of Red Dwarf, and no doubt many more besides, and you think of the apparent influence of this tale. I couldn't also help but think of the reports of UFO encounters described as "High Strangeness", which again this novel seems to predict compared with the friendly Adamski "Nordic" Extraterrestrials, or on the other hand the terrifying Hopkinsville Goblins found in reports of the time.

Better known in the US as The Martian Chronicles, a big budget TV miniseries was made that I've never seen, but attracted derisory reviews. I hope to track it down soon.

The Mad Death and Urban Foxes

The fact that baby eating Urban Foxes are in the news at the moment immediately made me think of the 1981 BBC TV Rabies drama "The Mad Death" - see clip above - where foxes were involved in spreading an outbreak of Rabies throughout the British Isles.

Never mind babies having their fingers bitten, this TV show showed in gory glory the real chaos foxes can cause. This poor infected Alsation in the clip, foaming mouth spreading diseased saliva in front of the faces of terrified children and shoppers, was just one victim.

Any of the humans that got infected started frothing at the mouth like they'd been eating Remegel filled with Ariel Automatic, but this was the least terrifying part of the deal. Violent hallucinations followed, involving the insane faces of foxes, naked women with golden foxes eyes for navels, and worst of all, the constant sense that you were drowning, even in your own saliva. Hydrophobia. Ugh and double ugh.

To a ten year old boy, the whole thing was pant shittingly scary. Every trip abroad from then on involved nervous scouting for any sign of mangy looking dogs or cats. Not even that, any animal was potential death on four legs; an inquisitive German Shephard in a french town called Josselin scared me so badly I vowed to my parents I'd never visit there again.

And so far I haven't.

So remember this TV show when you next read about babies being attacked by foxes. Cute Mr Fox isn't just walking infanticide; he's a chicken killing bio warfare weapon of foamy mouthed mass destruction to which the only solution is a vulpine final one...and no doubt the chaps in red jackets on horseback will be calling for just that.

Memories of the Space 1999 Eagle

An image of my childhood, the classic toy Eagle transporter from Space 1999. At home in Scotland, I used to have one of these in our home up on the hill, overlooking the Bowling Green and the museum, and the long lawn me and the Murray boys used to play golf on with little plastic clubs and balls.

I used to hide in the strange cupboard under the stairs that didn't have a door, rather a maroon velveteen curtain, and make whooshing noises as I pretended to be Commander Koening or that Aussie guy called Alan who was always my favourite. Even then, I was a childhood who spent a lot of time looking inwards rather than out, although I had a fair few friends.

I always remember the episode where they thought they had returned to Earth, only it was an illusion placed in their minds by these blobby looking aliens that looked like the ones in "It Came from Outer Space".

Tragedy finally occurred when I made a high speed release of the transporter pod once too often, and I broke the release mechanism. The pod probably flew off behind the dusters and retro carpet sweeper, never to be found again, and the now rather skeletal looking spaceship ceased to appeal to me. It just didn't feel right.

Alas, like many things I owned in childhood, it would probably be worth a fortune now if I still had it in good nick...