Tucker and Dale vs Evil

Given that it’s the season to be spooky, I thought I’d finally talk about a film I only recently got around to watching—one that I should have seen a long time ago. Tucker and Dale vs Evil.

At first glance, you’d be forgiven for thinking this is just another backwoods horror flick. A group of college kids heads out to a cabin in the woods, ready for a weekend of drinking, swimming, and bad decisions. Along the way, they bump into a pair of scruffy-looking locals, Tucker and Dale, whose awkward attempts at friendliness are interpreted as menacing stares and sinister muttering. The setup is familiar, and horror veterans know exactly where this should be going: the kids will be hunted, the locals are evil, and the blood will flow.

But that’s the joke. The film takes those expectations, flips them upside down, and gleefully plays with them. Tucker and Dale aren’t killers—they’re just two best friends fixing up a run-down cabin with dreams of turning it into a fishing lodge. They’re well-meaning, a bit hapless, and completely bewildered when one by one, the college kids start dying around them in freak accidents. To the kids, it looks like a massacre. To Tucker and Dale, it looks like the strangest, bloodiest case of bad luck imaginable.

The misunderstandings pile higher as the bodies do. A simple rescue attempt becomes an apparent kidnapping. A chainsaw accident while fleeing bees turns into a terrifying chase. One teen literally dives into a wood chipper trying to attack Tucker, who then has to explain the situation to a horrified Dale while covered in gore. It’s slapstick comedy drenched in horror aesthetics, and it works far better than it has any right to.

The casting sells it completely. Alan Tudyk as Tucker is every bit as hilarious as you’d expect—his weary exasperation in the face of chaos had me in stitches. Tyler Labine, as Dale, is the heart of the film: shy, kind, and deeply insecure, yet impossible not to root for. Their chemistry together grounds the madness, and without it, the whole premise could have collapsed into parody.

That’s not to say the film doesn’t lean heavily on the very tropes it’s mocking. For all its clever subversions, it still relies on horror shorthand: the dumb but attractive college kids, the remote cabin, the escalating gore. There are moments where the satire softens and you’re just watching another horror cliché play out with a comedic twist. But in some ways, that’s the charm. It loves the genre enough to poke fun at it while still giving horror fans the blood and chaos they expect.

What struck me most is that beneath the carnage and comedy, there’s actually a gentle story about friendship and acceptance. Dale’s awkward romance with Allison (played by Katrina Bowden) feels surprisingly sweet, even amid all the dismemberment. Tucker and Dale’s friendship is the steady core: two good-hearted men just trying to live their lives, unfairly judged by appearances. It’s a reminder that “evil” isn’t always where we expect to find it, and that assumptions can be deadly in more ways than one.

It’s not perfect, but Tucker and Dale vs Evil is one of those rare horror comedies that genuinely earns its cult status. It made me laugh, wince, and occasionally look away from the screen. Most importantly, it reminded me that horror doesn’t always have to be about despair—it can also be about having a bloody good time.

So if you’re looking for something seasonal that doesn’t lean too hard into outright terror, this is well worth your time. Just don’t operate a chainsaw near bees. Trust me on that one.

The Quiet Joy of Re-Reading (and Re-Watching)

There’s something quietly comforting about going back to a story I already know. A book I’ve read before, a TV show I’ve finished, a film I could almost recite line for line. Some people chase the new, the thrill of the unknown — and I enjoy that too, but every now and then I find myself drawn to the familiar.

When I re-read a book, I’m not really chasing the ending anymore. I know what’s coming. Instead, I notice the little details I missed the first time: a clever line of foreshadowing, a look between characters that suddenly feels heavier, a piece of worldbuilding I brushed past too quickly. The story deepens, even though it hasn’t changed.

The same is true with films and TV. A favourite series becomes like background music for the soul, something I can put on when I want the comfort of characters I know. Watching them again is like visiting old friends. The tension of “what happens next” is gone, replaced by a softer anticipation of “ah, here comes that moment I love.” Sometimes it’s a dramatic scene, sometimes just a small exchange that always makes me smile.

Re-reading and re-watching remind me that stories aren’t just about surprise. They’re about connection. The first time is discovery; every time after is relationship. A well-loved book or film isn’t just entertainment, it becomes part of my personal landscape, a touchstone I can return to whenever I need grounding.

So yes, I’ll keep chasing new stories. But I’ll also keep circling back to the ones that stayed with me. Because in their familiarity, I don’t lose the magic, I rediscover it in a different way.

Ashes of the Damned is out!

I’m excited to share that my new short story, Ashes of the Damned, is now available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FHY2YPWX

Set against the backdrop of a burned-out industrial estate and a crime scene like no other, this tale follows Paladin Gideon Voss and witch detective Isolde Thorne as they uncover whispers of rituals, missing persons, and something far darker rising beneath the city.

The deeper they dig, the higher the stakes become—until the threat they face could tear everything apart.

Though short in length, Ashes of the Damned packs in all the grit, sharp dialogue, and urban fantasy atmosphere of a full novel—perfect for a quick, immersive read.

Writing and Escapism

 I’m a daydreamer. I often retreat into my own stories, crafting worlds and creating new narratives. It’s one of my favourite things—like having a brand-new movie on demand, only one that plays out entirely in my head.

It’s probably why I write. Some of these stories seem interesting, at least to me, and I hope that by sharing them I can pass along even a fraction of the joy they bring me.

Sometimes the ideas arrive fully formed and feel unique, as if they’ve come from nowhere at all. My mind latches onto them and starts filling out their reality with details and characters.

Other times they’re sparked by games. I’ve always been drawn to open-world sandboxes where you start as a blank slate—no obligations, no backstory, just freedom to define who you are within that world. That sense of possibility is intoxicating, and it often bleeds into the stories I write.

Books inspire me too. When I’m reading, I sometimes put the story down and imagine what else could happen. I’ve written before about my favourite characters, and occasionally I rewrite their fates—saving them, adding someone new to balance the group, or better yet, disrupting it completely.

Films do the same. I’ll drift off and change the ending in my head. Some films invite this more than others—I’ll let you decide which.

Imagination is a powerful, wonderful thing. I’m not suggesting anyone should live there all the time. Reality is tough, but it’s also necessary—and honestly, there’s no finer source of inspiration than the world around us. The trick, I think, is learning to carry that spark of daydreaming into the everyday, where it can make both fiction and life feel a little richer.

Behind the Scenes: Detective Eleanor Bryce

Detective Eleanor Bryce has built her reputation on grit, discipline, and a fierce sense of responsibility. A senior officer with decades of experience behind her, she’s the sort of person colleagues look to when things get difficult. Calm under pressure and unshaken by intimidation, Eleanor has a talent for keeping order in chaotic situations.

She carries herself with quiet authority—never needing to raise her voice to command attention. Her silver-white hair and sharp eyes make her instantly recognisable, but it’s her steady composure that leaves the stronger impression. Whether in uniform or plain clothes, Eleanor presents a picture of professionalism, always immaculately turned out and always prepared for the unexpected.

Though she operates in a world where supernatural forces often collide with the everyday, Eleanor herself has no magic or enchanted weapons to rely on. Instead, her strength comes from training, experience, and an unwavering moral compass. She believes in protecting people first and foremost, especially those who can’t protect themselves. That fierce protectiveness has earned her the loyalty of her colleagues and the respect of the communities she serves.

Outside of the badge, Eleanor is private. She doesn’t talk much about her personal life, and she’s not one to indulge in gossip or idle chatter. What people do know is that she has a dry sense of humour that surfaces at the most unexpected times, and a sharp wit that can disarm even the most stubborn personalities.

Above all, Eleanor Bryce is defined by her integrity. She does the job because it needs doing, and because she refuses to stand by when others are at risk. In a city where the lines between ordinary and extraordinary are often blurred, Eleanor remains firmly, proudly human—proof that courage and conviction can be just as powerful as any spell or blade.

When Cleverness Wins the Day

 I like it when the Doctor—the Doctor, as in Doctor Who, not my local GP—is clever. There’s something special about those moments when the Doctor is standing toe-to-toe with a villain, the odds stacked impossibly against them. Everything looks lost, companions are in danger, the enemy has all the power… and then, with a spark of brilliance, the Doctor reveals the plan. Suddenly the tables turn, and the day is saved not by brute force, but by wit, timing, and sheer cleverness.

But here’s the key: it has to be done properly.

The best of these moments are like a good whodunnit. All the clues were there, scattered for us to see, but we missed them—or didn’t quite piece them together. Then, when the reveal comes, it feels both surprising and inevitable. You realise the solution was in front of you all along. That’s when the writing shines.

It also works best when it’s the underdog who pulls it off. The character who has been battered, beaten, and underestimated. The one who never quite gets the upper hand, who’s been on the ropes the whole time. When that character finally turns things around through sheer ingenuity, it’s not just a resolution—it’s a triumph. That’s when you get the jump-out-of-your-seat moment, the cheer, the fist pump, the yes, they did it! feeling.

Of course, when it isn’t done well, the magic disappears. If a solution suddenly appears from nowhere, with no groundwork laid, it doesn’t feel clever—it feels like the writer pulled something out of thin air. Instead of being impressed, you’re left thinking, well, that was convenient. Nothing kills tension faster than plot armour disguised as genius.

I’m looking at you, Star Trek. As much as I love it, nobody does last-minute techno-babble like Starfleet. Voltaire even wrote a song poking fun at it—“bounce the tachyon particle beam off the main deflector dish”—because sometimes it really does feel like the writers are just making it up as they go along. It sounds impressive, but without proper set-up, it’s more like narrative duct tape than true cleverness.

That’s why I enjoy Doctor Who when it gets it right. Often the Doctor’s plan looks chaotic or half-formed, cobbled together from scraps and quick thinking. But when the final reveal comes, you can look back and see the breadcrumbs that were there all along. It’s not magic, and it’s not luck—it’s storytelling that rewards your attention.

Think of the way Sherlock Holmes lays out his deductions—you had the same evidence, but he saw what you didn’t. Or how Bilbo in The Hobbit wins not through strength but through sharp thinking and a different perspective. These are satisfying victories because they feel earned.

That’s the essence of why I love the clever win. It’s not easy to pull off, but when it works, it sticks with you. It’s the kind of storytelling that respects the audience, makes you want to go back and spot the clues you missed, and leaves you grinning long after the credits roll.

Hard to write? Absolutely. But when it lands, it’s brilliant.

Behind the Scenes of A Paladin’s Vow: Isolde “Izzy” Thorne

Behind the Scenes of A Paladin’s Vow: Isolde “Izzy” Thorne

Isolde Thorne isn’t someone you meet and forget. She has that rare quality of making the extraordinary feel natural, of weaving together strength, playfulness, and heart until they’re impossible to separate. People call her Izzy — and the name fits. It carries the brightness and approachability that she herself radiates.

Izzy’s path was shaped early on by her connection to magic. Under the mentorship of Selene Awkwright, a witch whose name carries weight in arcane circles, she grew into her power with discipline and imagination. What stood out wasn’t just her talent for elemental spells or the versatility of her craft, but the way she approached magic as an extension of herself. She treats it with the same ease as conversation or breathing.

Elemental fire, protective wards, healing salves, even glamours to nudge perception — all of these are in her repertoire. But for Izzy, magic isn’t about what she can show off; it’s about what she can do for others. It’s the difference between conjuring flame to destroy, and conjuring warmth to protect.

If you expect Izzy to be serious all the time, you’ll be surprised. She has a keen appreciation for the ridiculous. Where others get weighed down by chaos or nonsense, Izzy tends to lean into it with a grin. It’s not that she can’t be serious — she absolutely can when the moment demands — but she refuses to let life become only grim struggle. Absurdity, to her, is part of what makes life worth living.

This lightness makes her disarming. Even in high-pressure moments, she can find a thread of humour, a small reminder that not everything has to be darkness and duty. It’s a quality that helps people breathe easier around her.

Izzy is perceptive in a way that goes beyond magic. She notices things: the unspoken hesitation in a colleague’s voice, the flicker of fear in someone’s eyes, the details others skim past. This emotional insight makes her invaluable, not just in crises but in everyday life.

She doesn’t posture. She doesn’t need to. Her long blonde hair, usually tied back when she’s working, her focused gaze, and her calm confidence make her memorable — but she never performs for attention. She’s at ease in her own skin, and that authenticity is what draws people to her.

Izzy inspires loyalty because she gives it freely. She stands by those she cares for with a kind of fierce gentleness — protective without being smothering, present without being overbearing. She is quick to comfort, but not afraid to challenge. Friends and colleagues alike know that when Izzy is with you, she is with you.

She’s also someone who values connection. That might come through in a shared laugh at the absurdity of a situation, or in the quiet reassurance she offers when someone is on the edge. Her relationships are built not on grand declarations, but on consistency — the steady presence that lets people know she’ll be there when it matters.

Izzy is, in many ways, a conduit. She belongs fully to the world of magic, but she never loses sight of the human side of things. Her command of spellcraft and ritual would be impressive enough, but what makes her remarkable is how she combines it with empathy, humour, and integrity. She is both the flame and the hand that steadies it.

What makes Izzy unforgettable is not just her power, but her perspective. She demonstrates that being strong isn’t only about wielding force — it’s about knowing when to listen, when to laugh, and when to stand firm. People gravitate toward her because she proves, again and again, that kindness and strength aren’t opposites. They are at their most powerful when they walk together.

Isolde Thorne is more than just a witch. She’s a reminder that in a world filled with darkness and uncertainty, compassion, humour, and quiet strength can be just as vital as any spell.