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As is the custom in our humble abode, we watched V for Vendetta tonight, it being the 5th and all that. Now, as some may now, this month is nanowrimo month, the time of the year when I give in to the voices within and and let the words out. Sometimes it's a torrent, sometimes a trickle. So far, so torrent. I've discovered I get the words out by hand much better than by keyboard; there's so much more you can say with ink and hand than you can by keyboard.

To help the wording along, I've been trying to read lots- the more words in, more words the brain thinks about, the better and more eloquent my scribbling becomes. I'm busy digesting the original Frankenstein, a collection of Hellboy short stories, a treatise on ancient warfare and, now and then, some Jon Shannow. Exciting stuff.

Anyway, the point is I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed the dialogue, especially V's. It's an echo of the time before the cinema dragged English into the gutter, sodomised and left to limp its way into the 21st century, a shadow of its former glorious self, and has made me promise myself I won't betray my characters with lazy language.

And yes, the thought of blowing parliament up (whilst in session) and starting afresh certainly seems more appealing every time I watch both the movie and the news.