Save the Planet.

That's right, I have single handedly solved global warming.

The way I see it, the problem is cars. Cars apparently let out gases that make earth sad, and we can't have that.

Look at what you're doing, industry.

I'm well aware that there's something about factories and industry in there, but factories make cars, yes? And once cars are rendered obsolete, we therefore won't need any factories anymore. For anything. As you can see, I've done a lot of thinking, and my logic is flawless.

So, I hear you ask, what are we going to use instead of cars? How will we possibly get from point A to point B? The answer is simple.

Bears.

The advantages of this are obvious, but in case you don't see the obvious superiority of ursine transportation, I'll point out the three biggest advantages.

1. Automobile theft will go down.

Which is easier, stealing a car:

Pictured: Car Crime

Or stealing a bear?

Pictured: Crime Prevention With Bears

Bears can defend themselves. Cars can't.

2. Bears are Safer.

According to thorough and diligent research (five minutes on wikipedia), there were about fourteen fatal bear attack incidents in North America in the last ten years. In comparison, in the US alone, in one year there were 42,815 people killed in car accidents. It's fairly clear which is the safe mode of travel here.

3. They're bears.

Enough said.

Petrol stations had better start selling honey and wild salmon. I'm expecting my cheque from Al Gore any day now.

Also, I really can't draw bears on ms paint

With apologies to Elton John and Bernie Taupin...

So, Gordon Brown's no longer prime minister. No one's particularly upset about it, but remembering the death of a certain royal figure I was far too young for, and having a bit of Elton John on the brain, I ended up coming up with this...

Goodbye, Gordon Brown,

Though we never liked you at all,

At least you're somewhat better than
The prick who's now in charge,

He swans around in Downing Street,

Sipping wine and eating canapés,

Cuts public services,

It's us who'll have to pay.

And it seems to me,

That trying to cast a vote,
It's just like pissing in the wind,

Nothing we say or do can ever change,

Whether Dave gets in...

And I would have liked to have voted,

But I was just a kid...

But Thatcher burnt the country out
Before Gordon ever did.

TV debates were tough,

But all three went that extra mile,

Nick Clegg wowed us all,
As Gordon learned to smile.

And though the ladies swooned,
It didn't mean there were any more seats,

For the Liberal Democrats,

It seems our voting system's weak.

And it seems to me,

That trying to cast a vote,
It's just like pissing in the wind,

Nothing we say or do can ever change,

Whether Dave gets in...

And I would have liked to have voted,

But I was just a kid...

But Thatcher burnt the country out
Before Gordon ever did.

Goodbye Gordon Brown,

Though we never liked you at all,

There's a "new kind of politics",

and I guess it's time to leave.

Goodbye Gordon Brown,

From the young man who still can't cast a vote,

Wouldn't have voted labour anyway,

It's Lib Dems all the way.

And it seems to me,

That at least, at last,
The lib dems have some power,

I guess the whole election's

Been Nick Clegg's finest hour,

And I would have liked to have voted,

But I was just a kid,

And Thatcher burned the country out
Before Gordon ever did...

In these troubled times...

So, to use the sensationalist term, "Britain woke up this morning to a hung parliament". Uncertainty about the election reigns supreme, etc, etc. It's fairly obvious what's going to happen, as a result of all the deal brokering and whispered conversations in Westminster: power will go to the political figure who has long craved for a real rise to the seat of government.

The Queen.

It's just what the old dame needs. She's been patiently planning for such a day: as the government gradually becomes less trusted with the whole "Expenses Scandal", and now there's uncertainty about who exactly will end up in charge. The machiavellian mistress of subterfuge will take advantage of the chaos and not invite anyone to form a government - in fact, she'll dissolve parliament. Completely.

Years of hanging onto the throne, refusing to give into her softer son, so she can complete this moment and restore the monarchy of Britain to it's former glory. Of course, there will be resistance. England's second great civil war will break out, all major political parties forming an alliance to remove the royalist threat to security. Nick Griffin will attempt to join with the royal family, saying they're the "britisher" side until he realises that the queen is essentially German and is married to a Greek, at which point he will briefly try to create a third side in the war and will then be utterly ignored.

Meanwhile, the Royalist base of operations will be Balmoral castle, defended by the cyborg-corgis Her Majesty has been preparing and arming with lasers for just such an event. Despite her advanced age, the Queen herself will be at the very centre of operations, issuing orders here, there, and everywhere. I can just imagine how they sound...

"Phillip, shoot them, shoot them! Look, dear, that one's foreign!"

"William, dear, I need you to purloin another helicopter, we have Tory Troopers incoming at Eight o Clock."

"No, Harry, dear, you can't rename the airforce the Luftwaffe. Just try to get the buggers who are assailing the North Wall, would you?"

"And Charles... just stay where you are and try not to get hurt, dear."

Of course, after many bloody battles, the war will come to a single combat standoff on a lonely Scottish moor - Gordon Brown, fully back to his Scottish roots, will be wielding a Claymore in an epic duel against the Queen herself.

Who will win? Well, you know what they say: there can only be one...

This blog post is not about lions. Well, not much.

It was going to be a delightful nature documentary about lions filled with dreadful puns, but I had a slight problem - lions are frickin' hard to draw on paint. Maybe I should invest in some real sort of drawing package for this laptop, or, indeed, a mouse which is vaguely the right size for my hand. My MS Paint David Attenborough antics will have to wait.

It should probably be known, though, that I'm writing this post listening to the Broadway version of The Lion King - truly one of the cinematic greats of our history. The original film, obviously, not the Broadway musical as that's pretty obviously a musical. Anyway, this opinion can get me some odd looks. Imagine, if you will, that I'm at a posh dinner party. This has never happened to me, but you never know. The conversation turns to the wonderful art of cinema, and the host, a portly gentleman with a huge moustache and a monocle, begins to talk.

"... I mean, it's really gone downhill. I remember when we had real films worth waiting for. I remember The Dambusters - that was a damn good film, damn good." At this point, the rest of the room makes those particular strange noises posh people do when they agree with each other. (I wonder vaguely if it has a theme tune which goes "Who you gonna call?")

"Ayaaaaars, yaaaars" - that's the nearest I can get to notating said noise without making them sound like a drunken pirate - and, sadly, it's not that kind of dinner party.

"For instance," he says, waving his half full glass of port vaguely, and warming to his theme, "That recent 'Avatar' film. I mean, it's all very pretty, but it's hardly high art, is it?"

At this point, I feel I have to interject in this world of dinner jackets and cigars. "Why, yes," I sycophantically add, "it left me feeling a little blue." Sadly, my fellow party guests evidently have a less highly honed sense of humour than me, and my joke receives only a stony silence instead of the applause, slaps on the back, and offers of marriage from the classier sort of socialite I feel it deserved. Such is life.

Desperately trying to recover my standing in the room, I play the pseudo intellectual/complete snob card. "I mean, although it's good entertainment for the proles, it's hardly high art. It hardly stands up against the classics - Citizen Kane, Vertigo, The Lion King..."

You can imagine the reception this would have - this might be why I'm not invited to posh dinner parties like this.

On a final note, my own personal reason for avoiding Avatar is that, on getting back from watching it, I spent the next two weeks ill with Swine Flu (some time after anyone took it seriously). Now, I definitely don't want you to think that James Cameron transported me to another world where strange alien diseases infected me. That's not what I'm saying at all.

Nope, not remotely.

Look at their filthy diseased bodies.

Full moon

I like to consider myself a writer of the old school. So, late tonight, as I sat in my rural log cabin, isolated from all civilisation, I looked up from the keys of my typewriter where I was writing this very blog post (which was, at the time, a diatribe about the value of weasels) to see the full moon hanging ominously in the sky in front of me. (Sadly, beneath the moonlight I didn't see a sight that almost stopped my heart. Looks like Michael Jackson's dead for good.)

My Blogging Cabin. Also, my typewriter has microsoft paint.

I know what you're thinking, and, yes, my typewriter can upload to the internet, actually. I installed the whole internet onto it. With a floppy disk. Also, you're probably thinking "Full moon! Why does it matter if it's full moon? Assuming you're not some kind of hippie/pagan who's planning on pulling the whole 'naked cavorting druids' thing around stonehenge, Full Moon shouldn't matter unless you're the variety of twilight fangirl who thinks Bella should have chosen bestiality, not necrophilia!" (and, trust me, dear Internet, I'm not either of those things.)

But full moon is important, and not just because it tends to make children hyper. (My mother, who is a teacher, frequently tells me so: I think she possibly teaches at some twisted version of Hogwarts for mutant wolf children.) It's because every time we look up at the full moon, we remember a tiny bit of that cavorting druid past - it's been such a central aspect in so many myths and legends that we can't help just feeling a little bit like thanking our distant Gods of the hunt when we see it...

... That, or, if you're my mother, an urge to eat raw steak and chase anything that moves quickly. Should I be worried?

Exclusive Election News, And CIRCA

So then, the UK looms on the brink of one of the most important general elections for ages - just like they tell us every other election. The election news is the biggest story on the BBC right now, with the exception of a certain Icelandic volcano.

Anyway, here at How To Paint With Ferrets I see myself with a serious journalistic duty to the people of Great Britain, greasing the wheels of this wonderful freedom of democracy.

This is why I surveyed literally two people and I can bring you the exclusive results of my poll, which claim that the person the Great British Public really wants as prime minister is:

Harold Saxon.

I know, Harold. I was shocked too.

Sure, he's mentally unstable and might occasionally try genocide, but he shot the thinly-veiled-George-Bush-Parody and had some killer dance moves. Sorting the economy out? Once Saxon's ruling the world, no one will even care about money anymore! Plus, he has experience as a head of state...

Technically, this is after he was Harold Saxon, but do you see me complaining?

Okay, in all honesty, I wanted to jump on the "Election Comedy Bandwagon", and evidently yesterday's blog post wasn't enough to talk about Doctor Who in. I know, I know: political satire? I feel like a dirty sell out.

But, in other election news, David Cameron got egged, and was apparently stalked for a while by a giant chicken. I admit, the news made me wonder... have CIRCA broken their deep cover? Then, doing a tiny bit more research into CIRCA, I realised that, despite what I've said in previous posts, they're not dead - they just changed websites! And their blog informs me that they're accepting signups for their training camps.

So, on a closing note? This year, Vote Saxon for change! Probably change that will involve setting your house on fire while giggling maniacally, but it's change, of a sort.

I'm Prime Minister, you say?

So then, Doctor Who.

A WARNING FOR THOSE FROM AMERICA/WHO AREN'T UP TO DATE WITH THE SHOW: THIS ARTICLE MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. YOU MAY WANT TO SKIP IT.

It also may include adorable baby animals, though, so skip at your own risk.

Anyway, the new series of Doctor Who, then. First thing's first: it's absolutely incredible. Stephen Moffat is an absolutely incredible writer, and it's great to have him in charge of the series. Now, lots of mean things have been said about Russel T Davis over the last few years, and I have to admit that, while it got a bit silly at times, it was still pretty good fun. But Stephen Moffat, Matt Smith and Karen Gillan seem to be a winning combination. And this is what really set me thinking.

The new series is definitely a reboot: they're even referring to it as Series One, not Series Five. But just how rebooty it is only really stuck last week. Not only do they have a new doctor, a new tardis, a new assistant, a new sonic screwdriver, and new daleks (who were introduced just sliiiightly like power rangers), Amy can't remember one of the biggest events of Russel T Davis' tenure, the season 4 finale, even happening.

That's right, folks, Stephen Moffat is trying to write Russel T Davis' years out of existence. Well, no, that's an exaggeration, but it's certainly intriguing, and we can only assume it's to do with these not-particularly-subtle cracks in time that keep appearing. An intriguing if rather obvious lead to a series finale.

On a final note, I absolutely love the sort of steampunk aesthetic they seem to be going for this series - the weird, "I found these things in my Grandad's loft and shall turn them into my TIME MACHINE" look of the tardis interior (bathtaps? A typewriter?), the new sonic screwdriver, the slightly 'used future' look of Starship UK, Spitfires in space...

On a second final note, Matt Smith's Doctor is awesome. Tennant was going to be a tough act to follow, but he completely nails it - playing the doctor as the best nutty professor ever. This is partly due to the strength of Stephen Moffat's writing for conversational humour, but he was also pretty awesome in the latest Mark Gatiss episode. (Saving the earth with a jammy dodger is evidently all in a day's work.)

On a final final note, this is very interesting news. Also, awesome. It'll be interesting to see how Russell T Davis writes for Matt Smith...

On an absolutely, completely and utterly final note: this is the geekiest post I have written yet. And one of my others had a picture of batman fighting a shark with a lightsaber.

Oh dear.

Oh, and the adorable baby animal you were promised:

Is it just me, or is that stare kind of creepy?