As Samuel Johnson once said, “When a man is tired of Scarborough, he is tired of being attacked and defaecated on by the equivalent of a homicidal turkey which is willing to fight you for your lunch.” And so it went at Fantasycon, especially for those gentle souls who weren’t brought up on the North Sea coast. It is telling that no gulls dared come near me or the Editor-in-Chief. They sensed the East Yorkshireman’s natural talent for wringing their necks and selling them to Gordon Ramsey as ‘sea-pheasants’. Continue reading Fantasycon – The Truth →