I was going to write a blog whinging about how I've been tricked by evil forces into writing a substantial piece of fiction online, in first draft form, in front of millions of people (although only a select number are reading... ahem). But fuck that. It's fun, right? I don't know what's going to happen and nor do you. And the online thing means I don't get the option to go back and change things, which makes it simpler. One way or another, better or worser, we'll be guiding Blakey home. Or following in horror as he lurches blindly and somehow wakes up on his doorstep, more like.