As far as I'm concerned anyone obsessed with Star Wars is a fucking child. I mean, come on.

You know, actually, I'm pretty sure it's responsible for the wave of shitty B-movies in the eighties. You got all those crappy 80s fantasy movies - Willow? Come on. Give me a fucking break. Shit like Labyrinth? What the fuck was Bowie smoking? And then all those crappy vampire movies. The Hunger. Near Dark.

Singers shouldn't be actors. Just get over it. You guys can sing. I mean come on there's no fucking doubting that Bowie doesn't just cover a tune well, right? But I'm just saying that's no need to make a shitty movie about the supernatural creature of the week.

Look, there's some shit that you just can't fucking mess with okay?

Well, except Lost Boys. I'd watch Lost Boys again.

On that note, can we stop with the Little Fucking Shop of Horrors around here?

[The day started warm and beautiful and Bobby was out of her bed as soon as the sun was up. After months of winter, being able to go outside again feels like walking back into her own skin.

She's currently sprawled out across the grass in front of the new Xavier mansion, soaking in the sun like a lizard on a rock. She's in shorts and a t-shirt and it might still be a little chilly for that, but she doesn't mind. Besides, someone comes along soon to offer a little extra warmth.

A very wooly sheep wanders into frame and pokes at Bobby with its black muzzle. Bobby lets out a giggle, and another sheep comes to investigate.

BEST HOUSE EVER.]

Does anyone know how you get the wool off the sheep so you can make sweaters? I know how to knit but it has to be in yarn first and this doesn't look very much like yarn yet.

[She gives the nearest sheep a pat on her curly coat.]