spyderfyngers

Because being a witch isn't all black lipstick and raising the dead.

That's your choice, kids.

The trials of the Pendle witches in 1612 are among the most famous witch trials in English history, and some of the best recorded of the 17th century. The twelve accused lived in the area surrounding Pendle Hill in Lancashire, and were charged with the murders of ten people by the use of witchcraft.

Top up your local fascists's calcium levels today. It's good citizenship.

The answer is yes. Yes, you wouldst.

Oh no. Too spoopy. Too creppy. Oh.

If you're anxious and you know it...

Drink a toast to the downfall of all fools who oppose you, slight you, or otherwise mildly inconvenience you. The ideal mug for making friends in the office.

"Merciful Death, how you love your precious guilt." Poor Louis, not quite human, not quite vampire. We love you anyway, you sad French goth.

Give up the day job and become a swamp witch. Live the dream, hag.

Ah, the singular pleasure of reading about fictional elves bonking fictional mages, as written by a sixteen year old who ought to have been doing her maths homework. You love it.

These things are always inside Christmas crackers in England. Sit them on your palm and let the curl into a shape, then check the little slip of paper to know your fortune. Clever fishy!

Montague Rhodes James' classic tale of curiosity and arrogance, Oh Whistle and I'll Come To You My Lad, is one of the finest ghost stories in the genre.

Why say I love you when a pug wallowing in sweet yellow goo is so much more expressive of your adoration?

"Ex Umbris et Imaginibus in Veritatum" is Latin for "Out Of Shadows And Phantasms Into The Truth" and has a way of turning up on gravestones. The photo is of the Countess of Castiglione, a Victorian noblewoman and spy known for her striking fashion sense and photographic modelling.

Be bi, do adventures.

Edmund was king of East Anglia during the 9th century, and put to death by the Vikings. His head was returned to his body by a faithful wolf, who protected his body until it could be buried. I took this picture of his statue outside the Cathedral at Bury St Edmunds. Saint Edmund is now the patron saint of wolves, pandemics, and victims of torture.

A picture I took on my last trip to the seaside. In England, a visit to the beach necessitates purchasing sticks of sugar - usually minty - with words going all the way through them. We call them rock. Mine was supposed to say 'holiday', but looked more like 'harridan'. Nevertheless. Gotta have yer rock.

Quaff precious liquids from the chalice of the gods, brother!

I can feed the caterpillar, I can whisper through the chrysalis, but what hatches follows its own nature and is beyond me

Finally, we were ready. The Second Congress to Unite Women got under way. When Michela and Jesse flipped the lights back on, both aisles were lined with seventeen lesbians wearing their Lavender Menace T-shirts and holding the placards we had made. Some invited the audience to join them. I stood up and yelled, "Yes, yes, sisters! I'm tired of being in the closet because of the women's movement." Much to the horror of the audience, I unbuttoned the long-sleeved red blouse I was wearing and ripped it off. Underneath, I was wearing a Lavender Menace T-shirt. There were hoots of laughter as I joined the others in the aisles. Then Rita [Mae Brown] yelled to members of the audience, "Who wants to join us?" "I do, I do," several replied. ...

Sick of all those rambunctious girls and boys on Santa's naughty list? It's time to invoke a lost-lost Christmas tradition - the Krampus! The Krampus would come and deal with any little horror during the festive season, either by taking their toys or chaining the children up and dragging them away for punishment. Hooray!

Nothing is more metal than looking after yourself and staying as well as you're able. Respect your mortal shells, my brothers. Tonight we storm the gates of Hell!

The Cross of Saint Zacharias of Jerusalem has been used for centuries to protect the bearer against pestilence. The letters of the cross are an acrostic for a prayer against the plague.

Love is a drug and there are no rehab centres.

He's the pope, but he's young.

Only true 1850s kids will get this... The perfect gift for the hardened bibliophile, these marbled endpapers came from an 1950s novel I picked up in a second hand shop. Gorgeously unique, marbled paper needs to make a comeback.

Be proud of your roots.

I ain't afraid of no-- okay, fine, I am.

Just a little home truth. *swims in a vat of cappuccino*

It's going to be a weird Halloween this year.

Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you Happy birthday Lord Byron You complete and utter loon.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Mirror mirror, who's the fairest Bysshe in all the land?

Britain didn't build and lose an empire, win two world wars, and one world cup just so you could swan around drinking FIZZY POP, sir. FIE, sir.

If you're anything like me, you spend a good 40% of every day politely smiling at people who feel the need to bound up and tell you the bleeding obvious. Yes. I am tall. I know.