Crikey!

Oi think oi been posessed by the ghost o' that Steve Irwin bloke. Wot? He ain't dead? But I saw it on the telly! He got bit an' they forgot ta use FedEx!

[Update]


And now he's really dead, while I was off in limbo fighting zombie pagans with Bob and a clockwork clone of Charles Babbage for a year. Which explains this snapshot Charlie took with his patented exploding steam powered daguerreotype.

I feel terrible, really I do.

Ghosts revisited.

Just a quick note... the explosions in the breeding pools are NOT due to a chain reaction of leech ghosts setting off their ex-conspecifics. It's that damn superhero with the pyrotechnic abilities that my lawyer has asked me to PLEASE stop referring to as the human flashlight. He's figured out how to trigger the guncotton-laced myelin sheaths around the poor babies neurons.