Everything's shiny, Captain, not to fret

We return here to the wonders of Joss Whedon quotation after the discovery of a quite astonishing fact. Through conversation and conspiracy with Thief, it was discovered that there is no such event as Shiny Day. Now, I don't know entirely what to make of this. I imagine if I delved into the deep underworld of the Internet I would find some kind of Firefly/Serenity commemorating day, but...I mean...no Shiny Day? What madness is this?

I'm going to postulate some things here for a minute. First, Firefly isn't really, truly gone. Here I refer to another day event, Towel Day, that commemorates the awesome of the late Douglas Adams. Every May 25th since his tragic passing in 2001, fans of Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Adams' other works take a towel with them everywhere they go. I have done this two years in a row, both times taking the aforementioned item of bathroom-wear into my place of work and causing much amusement amongst my colleagues who hadn't a clue why I had a brightly coloured towel tucked in with my apron. I very much plan on doing it this forthcoming May 25th, too. Might even ensure that photographic evidence on hand as well.

So yes, Firefly isn't gone. Joss is still most definitely Boss, the impending release of The Avengers (or, for some reason in the UK, Avengers Assemble) will go and prove that. The cast are still around - Alan Tudyk being AWESOME at every he does and Nathan Fillion being ever so ruggedly handsome in Castle. So in that vain, there's really no reason to be commemorating something that isn't lost, not in the eyes of fans anyway.

Now as I said earlier, I may be overlooking the fact that there is an alternatively named day that commemorates Firefly and Serenity, but...it's not called Shiny Day. And I think that's just a little bit wrong...here's my case.

Shiny. It's a beautiful, versatile(ish) word. It has many, many real world applications and has such pleasant connotations that instead of saying of "okay" or "great", an expression of "Shiny!" can brighten someone's whole day. There's also phrases such as "Shiny, let's be bad guys" and "Everything's shiny, Captain" (particularly useful when pieces of your ship are breaking off).

The gist of this is, if no one's guessed already, "shiny" is an awesome word and one cannot honour it or its many uses without of course honouring its origin, the beautiful and wonderful show Firefly and the Big Damn Movie, Serenity. So I propose that, for 2012, we, the loyal Browncoats, establish Shiny Day - a day to wear our long coats of a brownish colour that we bought on sale, to say "Everything's shiny, not to fret" when things are blowing up around you and "Shiny, let's be bad guys" when shenanigans and capers are afoot. My suggestions for the precise date for Shiny Day are as follows:

• September 22 - In 2005, this was the date of Serenity's premiere in the United States.
• October 7 - Same year, only this time it was the UK premiere of Serenity.
• September 20 - In 2002, the original US airdate of Firefly.
• June 23 - birthday of Firefly creator Joss Whedon.
• March 27 - birthday of Nathan Fillion, everyone's favourite loveable rogue starship captain, Malcolm Reynolds.
• June 2 - birthday of Jewel Staite, the most loveable damn mechanic in the whole 'Verse and most frequent user of the term "shiny".

So there you have it, fellow Browncoats - Shiny Day. Who else is up for it?

I treat all my characters badly!

I have this funny feeling I'm about to invoke some mega-nerd rage from those among my readership who weren't at St Michael's Church in Bath last night. There's a particular Battlestar Galactica and Harley Quinn fan stuck in the deep recesses of Wales that I believe was rather angry with me when I visited Caerdydd this one time and showed her the tickets to this event. You see, last night, at the aforementioned church, legendary sci-fi and fantasy author George R.R. Martin (that's right, Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones) was doing a talk and then book signing.


Oh and he read an extract from his sixth book, The Winds of Winter.


*Ice and Fire fans everywhere explode with rage and grab various items of Valyrian steel*


Naturally, in honour of this momentously awesome occasion, my usual Joss Whedon quotation title tradition has been set aside for the words of George R.R. Martin himself. The title was his response to the question "Why do you treat Tyrion so badly?" Despite having only read A Game of Thrones so far (my signed hardcover copy of A Clash of Kings now awaits me on my bookshelf), I think that's a fair assessment.


I also think it's a fair assessment to say that last night was frakking awesome!


Thanks here go to Topping & Company Booksellers, an independent bookshop in Bath (with another shop in Ely, Cambridgeshire) and the ever wonderful SFX magazine, who through means I've not questioned managed to secure George R.R. Martin's visit to Bath. Kudos, ladies and menfolk. Kudos. Also, much thanks to SFX for laying out copies of issues 219 and 220. I'd already bought 220 for the Jane Espenson interview, so nabbed a copy of 219. Discovered when I arrived home that it had an exclusive Joss Whedon interview. I don't suppose, if anyone from SFX reads this, we could get a Joss Whedon event? Or maybe William Gibson? Pretty please?


Ahem.


So, last night.


It was awesome.


Did I mention that before? Yes? Oh well. It's worth mentioning again.


I'm not sure how much to say about the evening, given that I imagine SFX have some manner of exclusive scoop lined up in their next issue (which I'll totally buy so I can say "I should know. I was there.") So I'll just babble. It's what I do in all my other blog posts and it seems to work out well for me.


I'm always a little bit taken aback at how genuinely funny authors are and I don't know why. I'm going to digress a second - about a year ago I read Douglas Adams' Salmon of Doubt and it made me wish I could have seen him giving a talk before he had passed away (sadly, I had no idea about his awesome writing until long after he passed), as the things he wrote that we collected into Salmon of Doubt were absolutely, genuinely hilarious.


George R.R. Martin was definitely not one to disappoint in the "genuinely hilarious" category. His thoughts on what would have happened should Conan have wandered through the Shire were particularly amusing, as was his insight on the difference between plagiarism and research, now immortalised in the back of my notebook (where all awesome lines that I must use one day go). And, somewhat predictably I imagine, as a writer I found myself listening very attentively to the things he was saying about his characters and what he does with them (this being in the elaborated response to "Why do you treat Tyrion so badly?") and thinking "I might need to take some of these lessons on board."


I also found myself entertaining delusions of one day doing a talk that big when I'm a rich and famous sci-fi author. Not sure I should really be admitting to that...


Now I'd like to digress and take the opportunity to talk a little bit about my thoughts on the Song of Ice and Fire series...well, I say my thoughts on the series. My thoughts on A Game of Thrones.


I came to Song of Ice and Fire sort of through the TV series Game of Thrones. I will say now, I haven't watched it, but my housemates have, they raved about it and when one of my best friends thought she couldn't make the talk yesterday because of a Korn concert (conveniently the day before, it turned out), I offered to go in her stead and get her book signed. From what everyone had been saying, I was kind of intrigued by the sound of Game of Thrones (TV series) and since we'd bought one of our housemates the paperback boxset of the books, it was only natural that after buying tickets for the event that I borrowed A Game of Thrones.


This was, conveniently, around the same time my laptop died.


With nothing to while away the hours I wasn't working but the pleasure of reading, I powered through A Game of Thrones in about a week. I loved it. I geeked out with a regular customer (now good friend) at work about my progress through the book. I found myself rooting for individual characters, not their houses. Definitely despise the Lannisters, with the obvious exception of Tyrion. He's an intriguing, brilliant and devious character, but above all it's his perceptiveness that I enjoy most of all. He has an incredible eye for the frailties and strengths of those around him. His rapport with Jon Snow, another favourite character, is definitely one of the more interesting character dynamics. But above all, I found myself really rooting for Daenerys. It might be that I like dragons. It might be that the word Targaryen rolls off the tongue so nicely that I think she should take the Iron Throne back. Maybe it's the fact that, in the beginning, you're keenly aware she's a thirteen year-old girl who matures into this incredibly strong and wise woman - I could easily believe she aged ten years through the course of the book, even though I'm pretty sure she's fourteen by the end of things.


There's so much more to say, but I fear saying it will risk spoilers, so my digression ends there. In fact, I think this a good place to wrap things up, so it's time for a Jerry Springer-style final thought.


Seeing George R.R. Martin speak last night and briefly meeting him as he signed my book...AWESOME!


*Alien Dave now goes into hiding to avoid geek-rage backlash...*

I'm lost. I'm angry and I'm armed...

First, some clarification. I'm not lost. Well, not geographically anyway. Metaphysically, maybe. I'm not angry, despite a day in the basement and the relentless tide of idle humans who had the opportunity to lounge about in the sun today while the rest of us pandered to their caffeine-craving whims. Also, I apologise for the bitterness. The heat makes me cranky.


However, I am armed.


Sort of.


I have to say, FedEx are frakking awesome. While the impending letter on import duty to be paid will likely put a downer on things, from shipping to delivery, it took them four days. Four days to get my latest item of QMx swag from California to Somerset.


Ladies and menfolk, I am now the extremely proud owner of a replica of the stunt pistol used by the one and only Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the Firefly-class transport Serenity.


All I need now is a long coat of a brownish colour.


But most importantly, I have my replica of Mal's pistol. It is sufficiently, if not - scratch that, IT IS - frakking exceptionally gorram awesome!


As has been promised, pictures will follow eventually. My dear friend Phoenix is still buried under mountains of work, but after that, a photo of me wielding Mal's pistol with the tagline "I aim to misbehave" (predictable, yes, but entirely necessary!) will be forthcoming.


In other news, still no new computer. Once again, a blog post is being composed from my housemate's Mac. Current soundtrack: Ketto - Bonobo. Always makes me think of jPod (series, not the book, though both are awesome) and Kam Fong. I swear, every time I hear this song I feel I'm about to bundled into a Chinese mafia kingpin's limo. To date, this still hasn't happened and as my iPod headphones died around the same time as my computer, these fears won't be surfacing on my walk to work. Or general walks into town. I do miss my soundtrack...


There's not much other news from the land of geekdom. It's pretty much my ownership of Mal's pistol. So let's talk about it some more.


It's a strange thing, finding such fondness and beauty in a weapon of all things, but from the first moment I saw it in Serenity (yes, I did the whole Firefly-Browncoat-fandom a bit backwards), I loved that pistol. From an aesthetic standpoint, it's a beautiful thing. It's the shape, it has all the right dimensions in all the right places. Though it may also be some kind of spiritual connection to the wielder of the weapon. There's no denying it - Malcolm Reynolds (and, by extension his actor, Nathan Fillion) is a damn fine and handsome man. And there's a little part (or maybe big part), I imagine, of many, many male Browncoats that look at Mal, aiming to misbehave with that pistol of his, wishing that they were him, that suave, down-to-Earth-That-Was and dashing rogue. Or you were me, wishing you were that loveable pilot, cursing dinosaurs for their sudden but inevitable betrayals.


If only I could pull off a Hawaiian shirt...


Speaking of these damn fine men, I was reading something rather amusing earlier - SFX magazine's Top 200 Sexiest Characters in Science-Fiction. They've paired their Top 100 Men and Top 100 Women lists and the pairings are more than a little gigglesome. And Number 5...yeah, dude, that is totally destiny.


Until next time my dear readers, I'm going to walk around with Mal's pistol looking gorram shiny.

I brought you here to bed my son, not throw him a tea party!

Inspired by a blog post by a good friend and tea connoisseur (find it here) and by the general fact that I haven't blogged in a little while (courtesy of my continued lack of a computer since the passing of my laptop), I have decided that the main thrust of today's random babble will be the short (current) chronology of my journey through the wonderful, mystical world of tea drinking. Also, quick poll - is having "Unfinished Symphony" by Massive Attack playing in the background really appropriate right now? I think so.

Anyway, to the matter at hand.

Tea.

Like many beverages in my life, tea was just...around. It was something my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles drank, but it never seemed to appeal to me. I never really knew what it was and I'm pretty sure the only time I ever made cups as a small child was so I could let them go cold, then use the tea to paint treasure maps I made. This was a brief phase that junior school inspired. At least, I think we used tea. It might have been coffee. It was a beverage. It had milk. It made crumpled up bits of A4 paper look old treasure maps. Pre-teen me was happy with that.

Now we skip ahead to my teenage years. Far ahead. It was sometime after my GCSE year, somewhere around the mysterious ages of sixteen, seventeen or eighteen. My friends were rather distressed to discover that I had never properly sampled tea. They proceeded to make me a cup. I'm presuming it was some kind of PG Tips attempt at English Breakfast tea or something like that. As far as I knew at that time, tea came in one variety.

Oh how wrong I was.

So that cup of tea was distinctly less than impressive. This is not to be construed as an indictment of the tea-making abilities of my friends. As I have learned, English Breakfast is not a tea for me.

My proper tea education came in the early half of 2011. It arose from necessity, as I work at the Boston Tea Party, in their Bath store. As is suggested by the name on the side of the building, we sell tea. Proper, good, wholesome loose leaf tea. Initially I was just a dishwashing scut-monkey, but I rose through the ranks to become a Front of House wench. Part of being a Front of House wench (not an official term I might stress) is a working knowledge (basic or otherwise) of the teas that we sell. Twenty-two varieties.

In the course of my tea-tasting session, I discovered, to my mind, an incredible fact. I found that I like tea. Or at least, five of the twenty-two varieties that we sell. They were Lapsang Souchong (still my favourite to this day), Dragonwell (proper name Lung Ching), Spearmint, Balance (a rather funky herbal tea with various things, like ginger, cinnamon and I think rose petals, or some form of rose) and Boston Berry. But this was just the beginning.

Later, in September 2011, I met up with my friend Noodles and we went to the Teahouse Emporium (where my aforementioned tea connoisseur friend works). By this time, I had made an incredible discovery. See, one of my colleagues had been talking about this fact he discovered on the back of a Twinings tea packet - Earl Grey goes better with orange than with lemon, due to the presence of bergamot oils. This led to an experiment with my favourite Lapsang Souchong. After a couple of tries, I found that orange was a far more beautiful compliment than lemon. And thus began my quest to tell pretty much everyone I know about this. Also, every customer who orders Lapsang with me gets the spiel. Most have been converted. Some have not. Thus is the way of the world.

Anyway, back to the Teahouse and Noodles.

This visit to the Teahouse was the first of many and the beginning of my further education. I learned how to make green tea properly, which led to my affinity for Chinese Gunpowder and its variation, Moroccan Mint (Gunpowder with mint leaves. I should mention, I love mint). My friend Phoenix has since gained employment at the Teahouse and my visits have increased, with new teas being tried and added to my repertoire of favoured teas - Pu-Erh Sweet Chai, Pu-Erh Wellness Guarana, and Mate IQ to name but a few. And as I continue my patronage of the Teahouse, my journey shall continue. I mean, with one hundred and seventeen varieties of tea, I have quite a bit of choice.

But it doesn't stop there. No, I've become a tea drinking fiend at home too. As may be plain to see from a prior blog about my perfect Sunday, I have a teapot. A nice, matte black, four-cup teapot. Which does about three Aperture Laboratories mugs' worth of tea (thank you, Valve Store!). Since that first perfect Sunday, every successive Sunday has involved work in the morning, tea in afternoon, quiz in the evening. Finest kind.

So there it is. My continuing journey through the world of tea. It's a fascinating world, folks. Read my friend's blog (link at the top), he puts it far more eloquently than I can. But rest assured - there is most definitely a tea out there for you, more exotic and exciting than English Breakfast. Trust me, I work in a place with "tea" on the side of the building.

Now my perfect Sunday...

We're breaking out the Hot Fuzz quotations this time (sorry Joss), as the most prominent subject in my mind is my perfect Sunday. The perfect Sunday that I just had.

So. My perfect Sunday. It kicked off with, as most Sundays do now, with being at work. It was a beautiful, sunny day and anyone familiar with the English weather's current behavioural patterns will know that it just hasn't been sunny for a long while. The typical English response to this - mass exodus from their houses, descend on their town centres and then harass poor, innocent cafe workers with their relentless tide of tedious requests.

I assure you I am not in the least bit bitter about any of this. Honestly.

Anyway, back to my perfect Sunday. So far, you might think it had been a bit pants. I'd been stuck inside all day, serving the general population who were enjoying the sunshine. But strangely enough, that didn't manage to detract from how nice my day became. If anything, it provided a much needed contrast, thus balance, enabling my day to be perfect.

Could I say "perfect" any more? I'll let you keep the running score.

Eventually, work finished, I managed to run away. Now, a bit of context here. My laptop died after three years of noble service (this post is being crafted on my housemate's Mac. The switch around of the @ and " keys is still a little disconcerting). Due to this, when I arrived home on Sunday, I did not automatically switch on said deceased laptop and check my emails. Instead, I made myself a pot of tea (Moroccan mint. Finest kind), stretched myself out on a sofa in our now clean and tidy living room and proceeded to blitz my way through The Gods Themselves by Isaac Asimov.

About half an hour into these extremely pleasant and relaxed proceedings, I had my epiphany. I was in the middle of my perfect Sunday. Everything was calm and peaceful, I had a good book and some damn good tea (thank you Teahouse Emporium!). All was well. The Universe was in balance. Could it get any better?

Apparently so.

You see, I am a man of infinitely useless knowledge. And that knowledge occasionally finds a convenient outlet in a pub quiz setting. So when my friend Phoenix text me and asked if I wanted to go to the quiz, my evening was pretty much set.

Quick aside: my close friends all have call signs. This is a result of extreme Battlestar Galactica geekdom, which manifested in August 2010. My wingman, Starbuck (so named for the obvious reason of being my wingman...or really wingwoman), was elsewhere while I was at a club, where I was hoping to run into a girl I had met (/Starbuck had made sure I talked to). In a moment of nervous geekdom, I text Starbuck for advice and called her the aforementioned call sign. It stuck. Since then, many people have call signs. I received mine (from Starbuck) in November 2010: Achilles. Why? Because girls are my Achilles' Heel.

They really, really are.

So anyway, pub quiz with Phoenix, Starbuck's boyfriend Wench and two other mutual friends who have yet to receive call signs, rounded off my perfect Sunday. We may have only placed 5th, but it was still an extremely enjoyable evening.

There you have it. My perfect Sunday. Tea, a good book, followed by a damn good quiz. Tradition to continue next week, with different tea, different book, but same quiz and more than likely the same team. But who knows? The future holds many wonderful possibilities. Assassin Girl could come into the cafe and I could finally pluck the courage to ask her out. Kindle Girl might impress me first. A rampaging mob of respectable feminists may murder me for the previous two comments. The editor of SFX could come back in, I would recognise him this time (not just his Mass Effect N7 hoodie) and the resulting conversation could land me my dream job.

If only.

Alternatively, I settle for him noticing the Twitter post linking to this blog, reading it, putting two and two together and then offering me a job...

I get the feeling I'll see Assassin Girl before then...

Eggs. The Living Legend Needs Eggs.

Once again, I'm borrowing a line from Firefly, but it appears to be my thing. That and it just seems that Joss Whedon managed to conceive a line of dialogue for every occasion. Joss is Boss. Fact. Just wait. Avengers is going to prove that. The trailer has shown us this already.

However, as much as Avengers is so awesome it's getting mentioned again, this is more about Pancake Day. Hence why I'm quoting Jayne Cobb. Today at work someone wondered what was the deal behind Pancake Day (though I'm fairly sure they phrased it as "Shrove Tuesday", Pancake Day's official name). My response - "Jesus. It's something to do with Jesus."

Now why am I babbling about this? I'm a fatalist. To that end, let's talk about the pancakes. Or, more precisely, the failure of our experiment with coffee in the pancake mix. I think the failure was the result of the kind of coffee used (at this point, I have *definitely* worked in the coffee industry too long). We used soluble coffee granules, the kind from a jar. The problem was I expecting something like iced coffee. You know, shot or two of espresso in the mix, that would've worked. A note for next time.

Okay, so I'll be honest. A bit underwhelmed by Pancake Day this year. I had, pretty much, one pancake. Well, two. One coffee pancake and one regular pancake. With cherries. I don't the cherries were the problem. My inability to find maple syrup, that was a problem. Must admit, I'm also fearing a slight Christmas Effect here. Allow me to elaborate.

Ever found that, as you grow up, Christmas becomes less and less exciting? Back in the day, as a kid, you couldn't wait. You'd wake up at ridiculous o'clock, sneak into the living room and watch really, really random CGI animation things (that you only ever found at Christmas and still have no clue what it was called), desperate to open those presents staring at you from under the tree because you've already exhausted everything that was left in the stocking. Or, in the case of my later years, under my little Christmas tree. This is the Christmas Effect - over time, excitement decreases. Has this happened to Pancake Day for me?

Well, just going to have to wait until 2013 to figure that out. For now, I'm blaming no maple syrup. Maple syrup was good last year. Also, my flipping technique needs a *lot* of work.

Random digression time. Mass Effect time. Just finished my second playthrough of the first Mass Effect. Finally decided to get around to playing Mass Effect 2. Not played very much yet. Enjoying so far nonetheless. Don't think I'll have it done in time to play Mass Effect 3. I'm saying Mass Effect a lot today. Mass Effect.

Oh, now here's something good to babble about. My growing collection of Quantum Mechanix swag. My last post prior to my list of top ten villains mentioned my anticipation of the arrival of my Claudia Donovan (of Warehouse 13 fame) maquette and F-302 (Stargate SG-1 fame) replica. But, thanks to QMx's ability to torture me with awesome stuff (namely free Firefly buttons), I now have a Viper keychain. Attached to my bag. Complimenting my Quantum Mechanix rocket (which came with my River Tam maquette) and my Millenium Falcon Lego keychain that was a gift from my nephews when they went to Legoland Windsor.

I still haven't been. A fact that still torments me to this day.

So yes. I have my new QMx swag now. Claudia is now dutifully guarding my GameCube and, by extension, looking down on me whenever I'm watching a DVD or playing a video game. Thankfully, not in a judgemental manner.

Pictures of my QMx swag will follow. Eventually...

Now to wrap this up with some kind of profound thought. "He who asks is a fool for five minutes. He who does not ask remains a fool forever." Chinese Proverb. I think that's pretty profound.

I want to be an achiever. Like Bad Horse.

At work today I was struck by my not uncommon compulsion to sing, but something was very, very wrong. Not with my song choice - Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. But with my ability to remember the songs. I mean, this is Dr Horrible. A work of Joss Whedon. I can recall all the words to the Buffy musical episode "Once More, With Feeling" (a phrase that, I must say, I don't get to use as often as I would like to!), but somehow, Dr Horrible escaped me.

This, was most definitely, a problem. One which I resolved, somewhat easily, by putting it on as soon as I arrived home from work. And, a tad naturally, it sparked my neuro-synaptic relays. Or, in other words, I started thinking. About villains. About my favourite villains.

Oh yes children! It's time for my top ten run-down of my all time favourite villains!  As always, spoilers will be avoided as much as possible, but apologies for any that slip in.

10: Darth Vader (Star Wars)

Ever moaned about your boss breathing down your neck? Feared his or her wrath if you didn't do your job properly? Then spare a thought for the poor men and women of the Galactic Empire. Failed to stop those pesky Rebels from stealing the Death Star plans? Were those really the droids you were looking for? Then watch out, because Darth Vader isn't above using the Force to choke the life out of you. He's also a pretty mean duellist with a lightsaber. Just ask Obi-Wan Kenobi.

9: Julian Sark (Alias)

He's dashingly handsome, dashingly devious and has an uncanny knack for keeping himself alive. Captured numerous times by the CIA over his criminal career and yet this sneaky little bugger always manages to escape. How does he do it? His response to Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn should sum it up - "Not a problem. My loyalties are flexible." Enough said really.

8: Dick Jones (RoboCop)

When it comes to money-grabbing, amoral capitalists, none do it better than Dick Jones, Senior Vice President, Omni Consumer Products. The driving force in the ED-209 programme, mastermind behind a criminal underworld, general all-round jackass. His departure from his service to OCP is particularly memorable too. Ronny Cox has played many a villainous jackass in his brilliant career, but his portrayal of Dick Jones makes him the definitive corporate villain.

7: Robert "Sideshow Bob" Terwilliger (The Simpsons)

Voiced wonderfully by Kelsey Grammer, Sideshow Bob is quite possibly one of the most charming villains ever to grace animation. I mean, who else would consent to his arch-nemesis' last request of a performance of the entire score from Gilbert and Sullivan's HMS Pinafore? That's right. No one but Sideshow Bob. Though it has to be said, he really didn't need to rig his mayoral election. But oh well. Still a wonderful villain.

6: GLaDOS (Portal)

Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System. Quite possibly the most deranged and psychotic Artificial Intelligence since the seminal HAL 9000 from 2001. As can plainly be seen, Ellen McLain's completely off-its-axle AI beats out its forerunner to the number six spot. There's nothing more joyous, yet also incredibly creepy, than hearing her synthesised voice taunting you throughout the game. "I think we can put our differences behind us...for Science. You monster."

5: Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

"Home sweet home." Oh yes, Spike. You did very much make Sunnydale your home. Crashing through the town's sign in "School Hard", Spike made one heck of an entrance to the Hellmouth, then went on to make his awesome speech about the Crucifixion, the first of many epic monologues. But none finer than my favourite Spike episode, "Lover's Walk" - "Love isn't brains, children, it's blood! Blood screaming inside you to work its will! I may be love's bitch, but at least I man enough to admit it." And a damn fine man, and villain, you are Spike.

4: Hans Gruber (Die Hard)

"You asked for miracles, Theo, I give you the F.B.I." When villains come as slick and sneering as Alan Rickman, you'll overlook his less-than-German accent. Every word from that man's lips are just so beautifully enunciated that it doesn't matter that he's not an evil dictator of the galaxy, maniacal AI or corporate tool, he's an amazing villain. In his own words - "I am an exceptional thief, Mrs McClane. And since I'm moving up to kidnapping, you should be more polite." Genius. And classically educated too.

3: The Master (Doctor Who)

Although his name would say otherwise, The Master isn't master of this list, but he comes frakking close! Alas, my early Who knowledge is limited mostly to "Genesis of the Daleks" and Jon Pertwee's adventures with the Autons, so it's John Simm's joyously evil performance as the megalomaniac Master that snags the number three spot. As seen with Sideshow Bob, it's not uncommon for villains to attain political office. But only The Master would go Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, gas his entire cabinet at their first meeting, then go on to completely take over the world and successfully capture the Doctor. Now that's villainy.

2: Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto (X-Men)

Shown here by the wonderful Michael Fassbender, but also including Sir Ian McKellan's classic performance as the X-Men villain, he is just short of my favourite villain, but by a tiny margin. It was a very close race. For me, Magneto is made exceptionally brilliant by a remark in the third film (many deny it existed, but sorry guys, it did happen and it had some pretty good moments) - "Charles Xavier did more for mutants than you will ever know. My single greatest regret is that he had to die for our dream to live." It his genuine respect for his own nemesis, his old friend, that elevates Erik Lehnsherr above your rank and file villains. And we can only hope that Michael Fassbender will continue to breathe new life into the character as the franchise continues. Also, it gives the ladies a villain to swoon over.

1: Mayor Richard Wilkins III (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

That's right kids, it's a Buffy villain snagging the top spot, but not just any old Buffy villain. The Mayor, polite, dedicated public servant of Sunnydale, very particular about hygiene and very disapproving of swearing, but also not adverse to murder and devouring Sunnydale High students and staff (sorry, Snyder) in order to achieve ascension to pure demon form. There's just something that simultaneously warms and chills the soul about the Mayor. He's an equal opportunities employer - humans, renegade Slayers, vampires. In the Mayor's Sunnydale, everyone gets a fair chance. Well, right up until he becomes a giant snake. But thanks to the Mayor, Sunnydale High, class of 1999, gets one hell of a graduation ceremony. Kudos, Mr Mayor. Kudos.