Oo-er missis; its the tree hugging cannibals

In last night's episode of Torchwood (yes, I like Torchwood, after a dodgy first episode it has me suspending disbelief with great enthusiasm) the story was set around a remote farm in the Brecon Beacons. The locals had a very quaint tradition. Every ten years they would round up strangers in the area and eat them (shades if I'm the only cannibal in the village there I thought.)

When the Torchwood statutory pretty girl asked the chief cannibal why they did this he replied "because it makes me happy." A chilling reminder there that among all the humandroids, shapeshifters, pan dimensional fart creatures and orgasm - eating aliens that pass through Cardiff's rip in the time - space continuum, good old human evil still has a lot to answer for.

Well that was how I saw it last night.

In this morning's paper I read that the nation's most famous tree hugger, Prince Charles, has just bought a run down farm in the Brecon Beacons.

Oo-er missis, is that coincidence or are sinister forces at work here?


Check out this poem about the consequences of messing with stuff we don't understand ...

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