1. In the aftermath of a nuclear explosion, if you’re lucky enough to survive, stay the fuck indoors (and don’t flush the toilet).

2. Women’s Institute co-ordinators and Scout leaders have all the skills needed to rebuild society, post-apocalypse.

3. Some Puritans believed the devil visited them through their shoes.

4. Aliens probably wouldn’t be able to catch the common cold, even if they did somehow a) exist and b) land on Earth.

5. Zombie movies borrow an awful lot of imagery from photographs of concentration camps. (And I kind of wish I didn’t know this, because it’s horrifying.)

6. Super volcanoes are scary, but flood basalts are even scarier.

7. 37% of all projected zombiphobic violence will take place in the home.

8. You can use stakes on zombies as well as vampires, but with zombies you’ll have to aim for the brain, via the eyes. And they’ll probably bite you while you’re trying.

9. Using rhyming couplets or hieroglyphics damages your credibility as a prophet of the apocalypse.

10. No-one really cares what the Mayans believed.

There’s going to be another instalment of The Event this coming Sunday, although I think it’s sold out already. Probably worth checking, though.

This time last year, I was terrified. I’d been working in local government for just over a year, and my contract had expired, so it felt like time to finally find out whether freelancing would work for me. So January rolled around, and an expanse of time opened up in front of me, and the only person who could fill it was me. That terror actually turned out to be pretty useful, because it drove me to approach tons of people, and lots of interesting projects came out of it.

Over the past year, I’ve worked with lots of new people… and I’ve also worked with people and companies I’ve worked with before. I’ve written for websites, like Asylum, Popjustice, and Den of Geek; I’ve written for magazines, including ComputerActive, Micro Mart, SFX, and SciFiNow. I ran the website for the first ever London International Technology Show, and I ran a YouTube channel for Grapevine Digital. I worked on a polling station, acted in a short film, sub-edited a book, learned how to do stop-motion animation, and visited a special effects workshop. I’ve done all kinds of things that, this time last year, I wouldn’t have even thought of doing, and it’s been great.

Slowly, over the last year, the terror started to ebb away. There’s still a little of it left, of course, because freelancing means no guarantees, but it’s not all-consuming any more. Actually, I think I’m happier and less stressed than I’ve ever been. Just getting rid of the daily commute helped enormously. Suddenly, I’ve got so much more time for everything – for work, for cooking, for walking in the sunshine, or working on personal projects. Admittedly, there have been some things that I’ve neglected a little – I haven’t even looked at the book I’m working on for months – but overall, there’s not much I’d want to change.

I hope 2012 will be just as surprising, and interesting, and (can I say fulfilling without sounding like too much of a dick? I think I’m gonna try!) fulfilling as 2011 turned out to be. I’d like to work on my book some more; I’d like to work on a game, if possible; and I’d like to, well, just do more of everything, really. I’ve really loved this last year, and I hope the next year will be just as good.

So there we go.

10. The Edge of Glory – Lady Gaga (Spotify / YouTube)
I worked in the Popjustice office during the weeks leading up to the release of Lady Gaga’s Born This Way album, and while that record is pretty hit and miss, I bloody love this song. I must’ve heard it fifty times that fortnight, but I don’t think I could ever get tired of it. (The video’s shit, though, especially by Gaga’s standards.)

9. Church Street in Ruins – Bangers (Spotify / SoundCloud)
I only discovered Bangers this year, and they’re pretty awesome. This is my favourite track off their first ‘proper’ full length album, Small Pleasures, and it’s ridiculously catchy. I think 2011 was the year I got really excited about British bands again, and Bangers are definitely one of the reasons for that.

8. Party Rock Anthem – LMFAO (Spotify / YouTube)
I think I’ve overplayed this track now, and it’s sounding a little tired, but it’s been one of the defining tracks of the year, so it’s still on the list. It was the video that first caught my attention, with its zombie apocalypse/28 Days Later parody conceit; the song itself is kind of so insistently catchy that it’s irresistible.

7. Shell Games – Bright Eyes (Spotify / YouTube)
The People’s Key was a departure from the kind of folksy cryathons you might associate with Bright Eyes; it’s poppier, dancier, more electronic. (Conor’s voice is as distinctive as ever, though.) Shell Games is the kind of song that gets lodged in your head for days; yeah, it’s catchy (I seem to be saying that about everything this year) but it’s also clever and… well, I want to say “interesting”, but that’s usually code for “not very good”. And Shell Games is very good.

6. Radioactive – Marina and the Diamonds (Spotify / YouTube)
Another artist who significantly changed their sound this year, Marina and the Diamonds has unveiled several songs from her forthcoming album Electra Heart – and this was the most controversial. That’s mostly because it sounds so commercial; Marina’s incredible voice hasn’t lost any of its quirkiness, but the beat on Radioactive makes it far more similar to the kind of chart-bothering dancepop peddled by Katy Perry and co than anything Marina had previously recorded. It’s brilliant, but if you need some persuading on her new direction, check out the acoustic version.

5. Hello Sadness – Los Campesinos! (Spotify / YouTube)
Los Campesinos!’s fourth album is more mature, less exuberant, and even more heartbreaking than their previous work. Hello Sadness, the song from the album of the same title, is everything I love about this band; it’s all elaborate metaphor and intense emotion wrapped up in a chirpy-sounding package that you can’t help singing along with. Gareth’s slightly off-key voice shouldn’t work over that cacophony of instruments, but by some kind of sorcery it comes together into a cohesive, brilliant whole.

4. Paper Forest (The Afterglow of Rapture) – Emmy the Great (Spotify / YouTube)
Speaking of heartbreak, Emmy the Great’s Virtue has to be one of the most gut-wrenchingly sad albums I’ve ever heard, but it’s so beautiful I keep listening to it anyway. Emmy’s voice is bell-clear, somehow pure-sounding; while her first album was all wry cleverness, her second is just painful in the most gorgeous way possible. This song makes me cry. I adore it.

3.  Cider for Breakfast – Great Cynics (Spotify / YouTube)
I wanted to pick the song Home Measures for this slot, but couldn’t find anywhere other that Spotify that you can legitimately listen to it for free. Cider for Breakfast is a great track, though; everything on Great Cynics’s debut album, Don’t Need Much, is pretty much perfect. It sounds like youth and good times; it’s not challenging or political but it sounds amazing and they’re awesome live. I think they’re only going to get better.

2. Climate is What We Expect, Weather is What We Get - Iron Chic (Spotify / BandCamp)
Iron Chic are one of those bands that I can’t describe without resorting to hyperbole: they’re really fucking good. And this song, from their Split ‘N Shit EP, shows them at their best. They’ll rip your heart out, managing to make lyrics that look hideously overblown on the page sound incredible; professing to be world-weary and sick of it all while turning out some of the most catchy and melodic punk rock out there.

1. The Obituaries – The Menzingers (Spotify / YouTube)
It feels obnoxious that my favourite songs of both 2010 and 2011 are by the same band, and I really tried to avoid that happening, but The Obituaries is too perfect to be ignored. I’ve listened to it approximately a zillion times since it was posted to SoundCloud at the beginning of December, and bought it on iTunes as soon as it was released, and I love it a lot. I wish it was a bit shoutier, but you can’t argue with that opening guitar harmony or the geekiness of the Nabokov references… or *that* chorus. I’m dying to hear it live; I think it’s going to be amazing.

So that’s that. A lot of these songs are from albums that are due to be released in 2012, so I’m excited to find out what this year has in store, music-wise! I hope it’s going to be brilliant.

(Here’s last year’s list, just in case you’re interested!)

But. Unfortunately, there has to be a but. When something is going on that’s as big and scary and emotional as the recent riots across England, it’s difficult to separate fact from rumour. I’ve spent an awful lot of time over the past few days reassuring people that nothing was kicking off in my area – and confronting people who were either mistakenly or maliciously spreading untruths about what’s going on. I know a lot of my friends were in similar positions, trying to fight the rumour mill and make sure that what was getting reported was actually accurate.

I don’t know what drives people to deliberately lie about what’s happening. I do understand a little better how people who are scared and have heard rumours might want to warn others, or seek confirmation of what they’ve heard, but Twitter can be like a giant game of Chinese whispers sometimes, with people retweeting or repeating things that aren’t confirmed, and often aren’t true. It’s been frustrating, and stressful, and scary, watching rumours spiral out of control and not being able to stop them.

I’d just like to ask that, if you’re going to tweet about a breaking news story, that you please, please, check your facts first. Please only repeat things you know to be true; if you don’t trust your source, please don’t retweet them. Things have been scary enough lately without frightening people unnecessarily.

My friend Mary Hamilton just wrote a very good article for the Guardian about the same subject; go check it out here. Twitter can be a really valuable tool in situations like this, but not if we’re not using it sensibly. Please tweet responsibly.

So, my boyfriend wrote a book! (Actually, he’s written more than one, but the most recent one is the important one here.) It’s called Cold Mirrors, and it’s a collection of short stories. Last night, we went to the Pineapple in Kentish Town to celebrate the book’s release.

Honestly, I was a little nervous about it: months and months of hard work had gone into creating this book, and, finally, it was ready to be shown to the world. We got to the Pineapple early, admired the decor, and got ourselves set up in a cosy upstairs room. Amazingly, despite being early ourselves, some of our friends had already arrived, which was reassuring (thanks guys!).

Before long, the room was packed; CJ was signing books pretty much non-stop for about three hours. No mean feat, considering he usually complains about having to handwrite a shopping list.

Between going on drinks and change runs (it turns out most people don’t carry exactly £7.99 in change on their person!) I stationed myself in a corner, talking to the intrepid Adramelech Books design team and snapping photos. The hours passed incredibly quickly.

I think I might actually like to move into the Pineapple. It has everything I’d ever need: delicious Thai food, board games, soft sofas, and strong Belgian beer.

This was about the point in the evening where some of my friends decided to find out whether Fuck Yeah Spoons existed on Tumblr (it does!) so maybe there was a little too much strong Belgian beer involved. It was great to be able to actually enjoy the evening, though, after worrying about it so much for so long!

We got home around midnight, and CJ and I decided to extend our celebrations with more beer and home-made brownies. I think we eventually went to sleep around 2am. All in all, it was a brilliant night, so thank you to everyone who came and supported us!

Now seems like a good time to fit in the obligatory plug, so here goes: you can pick up a copy of Cold Mirrors here, or enter The Independent’s competition to win a signed copy here.

My boyfriend and I went to visit our friend at work. She works in a fancy dress shop.

But I can’t help feeling a little jealous. Y’see, I’d really like a horror column. I love horror movies! I watch them all the time and get into frequent online discussions/arguments about them. There is basically nothing I love more than watching, talking about, and getting other people to watch horror movies.

So. If you’re a magazine or website editor, and you’d like a horror columnist, you know where I am.

(Well, it’s worth a shot, no?)

A recent post by my erstwhile colleague Ben Hammersley on ways to improve London journey planning got me thinking about public transport even more, and led me to draw up the following lists:

Why buses are great:
* You get to see more of the city, and how it fits together
* There’s more space (and daylight! And air!)
* Sometimes when bus drivers see you running to catch the bus, they stop and wait for you
* Buses usually stop closer to your destination than tubes
* Buses are cheaper
* If you’re on a bendy bus, you can look down the bus as it goes round a corner and it looks sort of satisfyingly weird
* If a bus gets stuck in traffic, you can get off and walk. If a tube gets stuck in a tunnel, you’re just trapped underground and it’s horrible
* There are more bus routes than tube lines, so you usually don’t have to change multiple times in one journey
* When you get off the bus, you’re out in the world and where you want to be. When you get off the tube you have to fight your way through tunnels and crowds and barriers, which extends your journey time by at least five minutes
* There’s a whole song about the wheels on the bus. No-one has written a song about the tube (that I know of) (so they probably have, haven’t they?).

Why tubes are great:
* You know where you are when you get to a tube stop and don’t have to rely on knowing where you’re going
* Some of them are air conditioned (although when they’re not, and people don’t bother to open the windows, they turn into saunas and it’s gross)
* The tube map is kind of snazzy-looking!
* The “please mind the gap” voice lady sounds nice
* Sometimes you’re at a bus stop and a bus comes which isn’t your bus, but then your bus can’t pull into the stop and zooms past you and it’s horrible. That doesn’t happen with tubes. They’re strictly one-at-a-time
* Most tube stations are underground, so if it rains you don’t get wet while waiting for your tube
* You’re travelling UNDERGROUND! And that’s kind of magic.

Ultimately, I feel like maybe using the tube is the rookie way to get around London; it’s all so simple and colour-coded and difficult to get lost. Figuring out the endlessly interlinked bus routes takes a bit more confidence. Maybe eventually I’ll graduate to using a Boris bike – though cycling in the city takes some real chutzpah.

I made these super-cute owl biscuits for my friend Nikki‘s birthday. They’re basic shortbread biscuits, but with dark cocoa powder in them, and they go amazingly well with a cup of coffee.

Ingredients
110g plain flour
40g dark cocoa powder
100g unsalted butter
50g caster sugar
A few drops of vanilla essence

How to make them
Sift the flour and cocoa powder into a bowl. Chop the butter into small chunks and then rub the fat and flour together using your fingertips. When the mixture resembles breadcrumbs  - or, close enough; some lumps are okay – stir in the sugar and vanilla essence, then get your hands back in there and squeeze everything together until it turns into a smooth dough.

Depending on how hot it is, and how warm your hands are, you might need to stick the bowl in the fridge for a while until it cools down a bit and stops being so sticky. If it’s not sticky, then you can get straight on with rolling it out (on a floured or cocoa powered-surface, ideally) and cutting it into shapes.

Place your cut out biscuits on a greased or lined baking tray and put them into a preheated oven at about 180 degrees for around 20 minutes. When you take them out, they’ll be soft, but will soon harden as they cool. And then you can decorate them – or just eat them. Up to you, really.

In a press release, the BBFC goes into great detail about why the film has been refused a certificate. Be warned: it’s pretty grim reading. In conclusion, the BBFC says:

“There is little attempt to portray any of the victims in the film as anything other than objects to be brutalised, degraded and mutilated for the amusement and arousal of the central character, as well as for the pleasure of the audience. There is a strong focus throughout on the link between sexual arousal and sexual violence and a clear association between pain, perversity and sexual pleasure. It is the Board’s conclusion that the explicit presentation of the central character’s obsessive sexually violent fantasies is in breach of its Classification Guidelines and poses a real, as opposed to a fanciful, risk that harm is likely to be caused to potential viewers.”

I’m trying to get my thoughts in order about this, to come up with a coherent position on it (particularly because Sarah Ditum asked me to weigh in for her Comment is Free article). On the one hand, the BBFC decision sounds reasonable: this is the job the BBFC exists to do, and it doesn’t sound like they’ve done this lightly. On the other – do we have to do this all over again? The idea that horror movies might have a corrupting influence on vulnerable minds is hardly a new one, and it feels like we’ve only just finished discussing what Saw, Hostel, and the whole “torture porn” wave that followed meant for our collective morality.

I’m not really a fan of the trend for “extreme” horror movies – but when I say that, I mean that I actively avoided A Serbian Film, The Human Centipede, and Antichrist. I am, though, a massive fan of the Saw franchise, and I think that the first Hostel film is one of the best horror movies ever made. “Extreme”, to me, maybe doesn’t mean the same thing that it does to you. Or your mum. (Or my mum!) I’m not a violent person, I pass out at the sight of (real) blood, and yet I love horror movies and watch a lot of them; I don’t think I’ve been particularly desensitised or morally compromised by these films. I don’t think watching The Human Centipede II would do that, either; it’d make me feel sick, and uncomfortable, and maybe angry, but I don’t think it’d do me any lasting psychological damage.

And yet… I haven’t seen the film, and the BBFC examiners have. If we think they’re wrong about this, we need to maybe reassess what they’re there for in the first place. Personally, I’d like to see a system that offered more information about what films contained – a series of warnings, perhaps? – so that individuals can make a more informed choice about what they want to watch. The current age restrictions seem kind of arbitrary, and the guidance info is usually pretty useless. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of banning something because it’s been deemed immoral; morality is a tricky, slippery thing, and once you start making pronouncements on what is and isn’t moral, where do you stop? And what does art have to do with morality, anyway?

The Human Centipede II isn’t a film I want to stand up for. Personally, I think it sounds horrible and I have no desire to watch it. But should that mean no-one should be able to? I’m not convinced.