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B7 Advent Calendar 2019
Joe Dredd
Ooh... what's this wedged at the back of the fifth slot?

Edited by Travisina on 07 December 2019 12:33:37
Moon Disk
Iain Short
This may be a bit early - but tomorrow has turned out to be an active day. So doing this now - hope that's OK (first time posting on here). Anyway - a link and anecdote(s) from long ago:

Click here.

First - a huge big thank you to 'Fandom History' for posting these songs. I never thought I'd hear them again, they only ever 'sold' a little over 200 copies and after Mummy died, Dad locked the mastertapes away. Since then he has never let anyone, not even family listen to them.

But anyway, onto happier Christmas matters. Thought you might to hear a few stories about how they were written

"Decimas have their Picnic" is obviously not an original song, but even still it it was not easy for Mummy to write the B7 words, mainly because she couldn't remember the words to the original.

The idea first came to her while she was giving my little Sister one of her first proper baths (in the real bath, not the kitchen sink) and I heard her singing the first few lines - then she shouted for me. I was at 'that age' when it was in no way cool to know the words to such songs, so it was under much protest that I sang them to her, repeatedly as it turned out, until she had the song.

She loved the line about kicking about a couple of heads or two and almost sploshed my sister right out the bath when singing it for the first time whilst keeping time by whacking her hand through the bathwater and getting it all over the floor. Fun times. My sister coughed and did splutter a LOT.

Other Ditties: 'These Sleeves' is most definitely about Blake in Redemption - the line that always seemed to confuse her B7 penpals was the "wide and white" one which made some people think it was about Avon for some reason. The line was meant to be "wide and wild", but given the recording facilities available back then (a microphone hooked up to a tape deck) she decided to let it go and not have to record the other songs again first to correct that one line. She's also trying to sing in a bit of a Welsh accent for Gareth - hence the rolled Rrs.

"DSV" is also meant to be in an American accent I know not wny). It is surprisingly much harder to sing in accent than you'd think. Go on - give it a go.

Final song on B7 - 07 - which I booked to post quite coincidentally on the 7th Dec - was my reaction to the final episode. When I was - SEVEN. It was a bit of a letdown when a series 5 never appeared.

Click here.
Yes, I know it’s an unearthly hour of the morning, but I was awake. So what do we have as today’s offering? Well, with apologies for my artistic shortcomings:

Shortly after the end of Gambit...

(Click to enlarge and read the caption)

“Good morning, Dingle, the Happy Fedmas Elf!”

“Good morning, Jingle, the Expository Fedmas Elf. Say, who was that in the break room singing, ‘I’m Dreaming of a White Fedmas,’?”

“That was Bingle, The Baritone Fedmas Elf, of course.”

Dingle puzzled, “Shouldn’t he be getting the sleigh ready…”

Jingle interrupted, “Don’t you mean the SPACE sleigh?”

“Don’t start with me, Jingle, you know what I mean. It’s Fedmas Eve. The sleigh should be ready, you know, just in case more than seven people made the Nice List this year.”

“The space sleigh is already gone.”

Dingle puzzled some more. “Don’t tell me it was stolen again? Space Rats this time?”

“No. Not stolen. And by the way, the Space Rats are on the Naughty List again this year so we’re still stuck with those surplus space choppers. Orders to take the space sleigh out came from the Kringle himself.”

Dingle, the allegedly Happy Fedmas Elf beamed a genuine smile, rather than the one he normally wore for Jingle, or children lined up at the Space Mall to have their pictures taken with Father Fedmas. “We haven’t had to take the space sleigh out in centuries. Jingle, do you mean to tell me there were so many people on the Nice List this year that the Kringle had to take the sleigh out early? Last year there were barely seven on the Nice List, and they weren’t all that nice, actually.”

“Well…” Jingle hesitated. “It’s not that there are that many on the Nice List, but those that made it have rather pressing needs this year.”

Dingle tapped his foot. “Don’t leave us in suspense. You’re Jingle, the Expository Fedmas Elf. Exposit, already.”

Jingle offered a shrug as he produced a clip board. “Well, there’s Kaarn, or New Auron, if you prefer. They get five thousand packs of nappies, and two crates of whisky.”

Jingle flipped a page. “Then there’s Home World. Seems the Kezarnians managed to resettle on a planet that is nothing but rock. They get three thousand two hundred and seventy – three sets of prayer beads, three thousand two hundred and seventy – three packs of vegetable seeds, and one odd request, a sniper rifle with three thousand two hundred and seventy – three bullets.”

Jingle flipped a page. “Then there is Horizon…”

Dingle beamed. “Ro and Selma and that lot?”

Jingle offered a stern look. “Who’s the Expository Fedmas Elf here? Wrong Horizon, Dingle, I’m talking about the mad sads. Let’s see. There are quite a few requests for Avon clones that we will be unable to fill, sadly.”

Dingle nodded. “I know, they all shot each other. I had to clean up the mess.”

“Then there are the Jenna and Del Grant Clones for Brad and Paula, respectively.”

Dingle sighed. “I hope we’re not doing that again, last year the Grant and Jenna clones stole the Space Sleigh and ran off together.”

Dingle nodded. “Don’t worry, between Jenna’s Space Sleigh driving and Grant’s affinity for shooting things, Health and Safety have pulled the plug.”

Dingle flipped a page. “ And then there’s TT, he wants a full color 3D photo copier, and five minutes with Soolin.”

Dingle puzzled some more. “The copier will fit in the sleigh, er, the space sleigh, but how do we arrange five minutes with Soolin?”

Jingle arched a brow and waited. Dingle wasn’t the brightest elf in the toy shop, but eventually the other shoe dropped. In this case a green felt shoe with a pointed toe and a bell on the end. “Me?”

Dingle produced some rather small, but carefully wrapped packages, and a list, which wasn’t exactly the Nice List. “Five thousand packs of nappies take up a lot of space. So while you’re tracking down Soolin, deliver these to her and her friends on the Not Entirely Naughty List. We couldn’t fit the gifts in the sleigh. ”

Dingle pulled a face as he accepted the packages. “Don’t you mean space sleigh?”

“Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to locate Soolin. As always should you or any member of your team be captured, The Kringle will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This list will self-destruct in five seconds.”

“You need therapy, Jingle.” Dingle vanished into the ether and headed off on his search using the magic of the Fedmas Elves, namely a teleport and a surplus Space Rat chopper.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Dingle carefully, but hurriedly made his way down the corridor. He could hear loud noises. He looked for a window and saw daylight.

“Gosh golly gee whiz and darn it!” Dingle exclaimed, which is about as close to swearing as an elf ever gets (if he thinks someone might be watching). “I forgot to take into account daylight saving’s time.”

Reaching a large central room, he saw several black clad figures in helmets surrounding another black clad figure without a helmet. All the black clad figures had what Dingle could only describe as noise makers. Several other Not Entirely Naughty looking people were lying on the floor.

“Freeze Time!” As Dingle issued the command, time did indeed freeze, just as the central black clad figure brought his noisemaker up to his face, an odd smile on his lips.

Dingle darted about the room. One of the people lying down caught his eyes. “Ah, you must be Tarrant. You’re on this Not Entirely Naughty List with Soolin. Nice of you to turn in early so I can give you your gift. Here it is.”

As it turned out, Soolin, Vila, and Dayna were also lying down, or was it laying down? Dingle wasn’t sure, but he’d ask Oxford the Grammar Elf when he got back.

Dingle spotted Blake. “Here you are, Blake a nice, shiny, new… oh, oh, my. You’re not just lying down, or laying down, are you? Oh, my, that’s a lot of... Oh, my…”

Dingle looked up at Avon’s freeze-framed form. “Well, mister shiny buttons, you just made the Naughty List. Your present goes back.”

Dingle took Avon’s gift and ripped the wrapping open to reveal a shiny cigarillo case. Dingle hummed. “Hmm, I don’t think only one would do you much good anyway.”

Dingle moved from Dayna to Vila to Soolin. As the fact that they were not merely lying down, or laying down (he’d be doubly sure to ask Oxford the grammar elf) slowly sunk in, he picked up the presents he had left moments before. “They all look like cigarillo cases. If only Jingle hadn’t chatted on for so long. Oh, woe is me, I have no nice, or not entirely naughty people left to give these cigarillo cases to. And poor TT, he’ll be so disappointed, a brand new 3D color copier and nothing to copy.”

Walking away down the corridor towards the overhead door, Dingle noticed something shiny glinting in the back seat of a speeder. “Oh, aren’t you pretty, all decked out in Fedmas lights. Oh, you can’t hear me.”

“Unfreeze Time!”

“Now then…” Dingle had to raise his voice to be heard. As soon as he unfroze the universe, the men in the gallery all started setting off their noise makers. “Now, then, what are you?”

+I am Orac, and I will kindly ask you not to waste my time on mindless pleasantries+

“You’re a computer, aren’t you, Orac?”

+I most certainly am not a computer. I am the sum total of all computer knowledge+

“All computer knowledge? Could you help me find nice people who need gifts, preferably cigarillo cases?”

+Of course, I could, but that would be a waste of my time and resources for no practical gain+

“Suppose I were to mention that I have several terabyte ram chips and high speed tariel cell network boosters just lying around my workshop back at the Fedmas Village.”

+…That… that would constitute a practical gain, and a worthwhile use of my time and resources+

“Do you know any nice people who could use a cigarillo case?”

+Available data indicates there are three thousand two hundred and seventy – three Kezarnians on Home World that could use a cigarillo case rather urgently+

“Orac, my blinky friend, this could be the start of a beautiful relationship.”
The smallest change.

It was dark, and he had no idea how he had got here; wherever ‘here’ was. Hastily, he scrambled to his feet, reaching for his gun, and felt the top of his head impact with something hard. Immediately he was aware of two things: his head hurt and his gun was missing.

Tentatively, he put up his hand. The roof - ceiling? - was smooth and cold, almost glass-like. Some sort of rock perhaps? Stretching his arms wider, he encountered resistance to his left and right, but none ahead or behind. A corridor or passageway then. Narrow but passable. He crouched down and felt around on the surface of the floor. Gritty. Probably natural. Nothing there that would help his survival. Survival. Fool! He grasped his arm, pushing up his sleeve. Ah. No bracelet. No easy rescue.

Suddenly dizzy, he bent forward, resting his head on his arms. He didn’t think he’d hit his head hard enough to do any damage, so the vertigo was probably the result of tension. Or thirst. He shivered slightly, licking dry lips. No time to waste questioning what might have happened. He’d have to find water if he was to get out of this alive.

Cautiously he got to his feet again, relieved to find that the faintness had past. “Hallo,” he called, his voice seeming to bounce around him. Silence. “Hallo,” he tried again. More silence. One hand against the wall, he did the only thing left to him and shuffled forward, surprised by the panic that clotted in his chest as the blackness closed around him.

How long he kept moving he couldn’t tell. Long enough for the dryness in his mouth to become a torment: to become so dehydrated that he didn’t even wonder when the blackness abruptly thinned, and a slim, white arm reached out to him holding a cup. He just grabbed it, hopefully.

The darkness thickened again, so he couldn’t see what was in the cup, but he could hear something sloshing in it. Water. Let it be water. Despite his need, he hesitated, then dipped in a finger, and carefully laid it against his swollen tongue. The relief could have brought tears, if he’d any to shed. He lowered himself to the ground, hugging the cup and its precious contents, and then, schooling himself to resist the urge to gulp, he raised it to his lips and took a sip, and another, and another, feeling his strength return with each swallow.

Payment for services delivered.

The voice was soft, feminine, but when he spoke to it there was no reply. He felt around in the inky blackness, but there was nothing. He’d have to move on.

Thirst quenched, he became aware of his hunger. It was some time since he’d eaten, and inching forward in the dark was consuming his energy resources. Hunger pangs gnawed at him until, eventually, he knew he was too weak to carry on. Close to despair, he sank to the ground, doubting he’d find the will to rise again.

The darkness shivered and thinned for a second time. An old man with long, white hair pressed a bowl with a spoon in it into his hands. Too famished to be picky, he stuffed a spoonful of the greyish mush into his mouth. He had never eaten anything so sustaining.

Payment for transport, quavered an elderly voice.

He knew better than to expect it to talk to him further, so he finished the bowl and prepared to move on.

Now the floor became rougher, littered with obstacles. He barked his shins and tore his clothes as he negotiated his way. Soon he was bleeding from numerous tiny abrasions. Sore, frustrated, he struggled onward, until his foot caught against a particularly large object, and he fell heavily onto his knees.

This time the voice was lilting. Musical. But he heard it inside his head.

Payment for an attempted rescue.

Ahead of him, an opening appeared high in the darkness, lit from within, and eagerly, he scrambled up and made towards it. It was a way out. It had to be. A ladder reached up from the floor to the light. He had only to climb it and he’d be free.

He was nearly at the top when the voices began again. Two this time, very different from each other: one crisp and Alpha -like; the other with a distinctive, Delta intonation. Somehow, he knew they belonged to one person.

Payment for holding the line, said the first.
Watch now and learn, added the second.

Once more the darkness thinned, and through it he could see a man, scarred yet familiar, dressed as a hunter, a knife stuck in the belt of his leather jerkin. His face spoke of lessons learned through pain, and hope hewn from defeat. A strong face. Capable of compassion, but stern and ruthless if that was needed.

I have to test them myself, he protested.

By posing as a bounty hunter? Is that wise? a smaller man, sandy hair flopping over his face, asked anxiously, as he came into view. It could get you killed.

You worry too much. I have to know whom I can trust. I have to.

And Avon? Do you trust him?

I’ve always trusted him. Once he joins us, it can begin.

As the vision faded, the light ahead flared brightly and intense. He screwed his eyes shut against its brilliance. When he opened them, he found himself on the flight deck of Scorpio, his crew staring at him expectantly.

“Could he be a bounty hunter, do you think?” Dayna asked.

Does it matter? The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he knew they were not the ones he wanted to say.

“Blake? Hunting people for money?” He dismissed the notion with a new-found certainty. “Of course not. We can trust Blake.”
Edited by Annie on 10 December 2019 08:28:37
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
Space Heroes Quiz – part 1/3

The objective of this quiz is to guess a famous non-B7 role of one of the regular B7 actors. To find the answer, you have to complete three tasks.

First, identify the following space heroes!


Don’t worry if you cannot name them all – there will be further hints in parts 2 and 3.
Space Heroes Quiz – part 2/3

In the second part of the quiz, you have to match the heroes of part 1 with their respective spaceships. However, I did not draw the ships but instead more or less symbolic representations.










Hint: One of the nine heroes is not associated with a specific spaceship but uses various passenger ships to get around the galaxy. In order to represent that I had to resort to a terrible pun Shock.
Space Heroes Quiz – part 3/3

After matching the heroes with their ships, you now have nine number/letter combinations, which correspond to coordinates in the following grid (click to enlarge). Find the letters at these coordinates and read them from left to right. This will give you the solution.

Warning: if you believe the following, you’ll probably believe anything...

“My back’s killing me.” Vila hauled the tree into the tent with a bad grace, and manhandled it upright into the centre of Orac’s casing. “There; it’s the best use we’ve found for you yet, you festive flowerpot.”

Orac’s lights flashed indignantly. “Really; I must protest...”

“You were hardly the only one to be damaged in Blake’s latest ridiculous scheme, Vila. It was a minor injury.” Avon didn’t bother to look round, too busy staring in distaste at the outfit laid out on his chair.

“You call being shot in the back a minor injury?” Vila crossed to the table by the tent’s entrance, opened the bottle of brandy sitting there, and took a swig. “I suppose by that reasoning being stabbed in the back doesn’t matter at all, then.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“What is what supposed to mean?” inquired Soolin, walking in from the rear entrance. Both men stopped at the sudden interruption, their faces turning identically expressionless.

“Nothing,” they chorused dully. Vila took another long drink from his bottle.

“Well, hurry up. It’s nearly opening time.”

“I fail to see why I should play the major role.” Avon was still unconvinced by the general plan. “From what you tell me, Blake is of a far more suitable build...”

“He thinks his eye would put small children off.”

“It is more likely to fascinate them. However. Why not Vila, then?”

“Because if he so much as breathes on a child, they’re likely to fall off his lap dead drunk.” Soolin gave the rejected candidate a warning look. “We need some of that left for the parents.”

“All right! I’ve hardly touched it.” Vila raised the bottle as if to make up for this oversight; Soolin looked disbelieving.

“If you carry on drinking at that rate, we’ll be able to dress you as the red-nosed reindeer,” she said. “Assuming you can stand.” He looked offended; but he put the bottle down.

“It keeps the cold out,” he muttered, then gave a sudden cough. “Talking of cold, I think I might be getting one...”

“If you’re cold, have one of these.” Dayna came in, clutching a tray of mince pies. “They’re still hot.” Vila took one and bit it cautiously.

“Oh!” He looked pleasurably surprised. “Not bad...”

“I said one, Vila! We need some of these left, too.” Dayna sighed as Vila deftly swiped a second.

“Perhaps they’ll soak up the brandy he’s drunk,” suggested Soolin. There was a rustle from the curtains at the back of the tent; a curly head, enhanced (or not) by pointed fake ears and an equally pointed hat, poked through.

“If he eats enough of them to do that he’ll need a doctor,” remarked Tarrant, grinning. “What do you think of the outfit?” The rest of him wriggled into view, clad in a bright green tunic and breeches and candy-striped stockings.

“Do you really want to know?” queried Avon, still looking repulsed by the red suit he was expected to don himself. “Please tell me Blake isn’t dressed up like that.”

“No, I’m not.” Blake followed Tarrant in, somehow managing to look serious under a set of furry antlers. “Aren’t you ready, Avon?”

Avon looked at him coldly. Blake was right, he decided; the eye was distracting. As were the antlers.

“Remind me why we are doing this?” he demanded.

“It is an Old Calendar festival which the people of Gauda Prime still celebrate,” answered Blake patiently. “Every year at this time a mythical figure supposedly comes and distributes presents to the children. To get them into the festival spirit, certain organisations will create a grotto where they can visit this figure...”

“And part with a ridiculous amount of money for doing so,” put in Soolin.

“Exactly,” agreed Blake. “Money which we need if we are to get away from here. Now the Federation think we’re all dead...”

“Which we very nearly were,” Avon reminded him. “Especially you.”

Blake sighed. “I had to try and make it convincing.”

“Oh, you did. Despite all the plot holes you left in the story.”

“Some of us have still got the bruises to prove it,” added Dayna. Vila nodded vigorous agreement.

“And yet you are all still prepared to follow his latest plan,” said Avon disparagingly.

“Oh, come on, Avon. He said ‘money’,” Vila pointed out. “Anyway, have you got a better idea?”

“No one will recognise you under that beard,” added Tarrant cheerfully. Avon’s expression was positively murderous; but it seemed that he did not, after all, have a better plan. Slowly, and with infinite reluctance, he donned the red suit and the white beard which accompanied it.

“I should have thought white fur trim was more in Servalan’s line,” he observed, looking down at himself.

“You look... well, you’ll do,” amended Soolin.

“Just try to smile,” suggested Blake; then remembered the tracking gallery. “Actually, maybe not.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” said Avon mirthlessly. “Get on with it!”

* * * * * *

They got on with it. Suitably attired, the ‘mythical figure’ and his band of unlikely helpers doled out presents to a long queue of Gauda Prime infants, while simultaneously relieving their parents of numerous credits for the privilege (Tarrant and Soolin, openly) and, in selected cases, their identity cards (Vila, somewhat more circumspectly). True, Blake had had to retire for a while when one of the local bounty hunters had brought his six young children in- even a one-eyed reindeer might have been recognised as a former colleague, after all- and there had been an awkward moment when one tiny girl, on her name being demanded by Avon, had answered, “Anna,” but on the whole, the plan seemed to have been remarkably successful by the time they reached the end of the queue.

“So now what?” Avon stripped off his beard with relief as Soolin hung up the ‘Closed’ sign outside. He looked round the tent. Tarrant and Dayna, having found a shooting game amongst the few presents left, were entertaining themselves with it. Vila was asleep in a corner, in an attitude suggestive of having overreached himself with both the brandy and the mince pies to a point which he would regret intensely when he woke up. Blake was retrieving the pile of stolen identity cards, ready to be altered for their onward journey, from beside him; and Soolin was tipping out the cash box.

“We haven’t done badly,” she observed, before answering Avon’s question. “Traditionally we would watch the Commissioner’s speech next, then sit down to a special feast.”

“Are you suggesting we follow the traditional pattern? Because I, for one, have no desire to sit and watch Servalan gloat over our supposed deaths while we could be on our way off this planet.” Avon scratched his face; really, that beard had been unbearable. “As for your feast...”

What Avon’s opinion of the festive meal was remained a mystery; for at that moment there was a tap on the tent flap.

“Are we too late?” said a female voice. The atmosphere immediately grew wary; Dayna and Tarrant turned from their game, ready to shoot in earnest. Soolin, too, drew her gun. The tent flap rustled; Blake and Avon stared.

“Jenna!” cried Blake, at the same moment as Avon choked,


The combined exclamations disturbed Vila; he opened his eyes with a groan, his jaw dropping as he saw the two newcomers.

“I swear I didn’t drink that much,” he protested, to no one in particular. Awakening fully, he sat up, and turned suddenly pale. “Ohhh... maybe I did.” The others ignored him; something much more interesting was happening.

“I don’t know why you’re looking so surprised; it’s not as if the report of your deaths was exactly accurate,” Jenna pointed out coolly. Everyone continued to gape in astonishment. “It’s just as well we realised you’d faked it, or we might not have dropped in to collect you.” She looked oddly round the assembled party, then exchanged amused glances with Cally. “You might want to get changed before we leave. You’re all looking a little conspicuous.”

Cally nodded agreement. “A little.”

Nobody could argue. Three elves, two reindeer- one with his antlers at a decidedly drunken angle- and an unconvincingly beardless Santa trooping across the Gauda Prime landscape would, after all, definitely draw attention.

“But...” Blake was still staring at Jenna. “How?”

“Never mind that; we can explain it all later. We haven’t got all day. Are you coming?”

Slowly, it dawned on Blake and the Scorpio’s crew that rescue had arrived. Slowly, relief dawned on their faces. All except one. Tearing his eyes off Cally, Avon turned to Blake. Slowly, and very deliberately, he spoke.

“Well, now; it seems there is a way out of here after all. A way requiring no money, no identity cards, and above all no ridiculous charades like the one I have been forced to endure for the whole of today.” He scratched again; that damned beard had left a rash... “This time, Blake...”


“This time I really am going to kill you!”
Edited by stormypetrel on 12 December 2019 00:59:33

(Click on image to enlarge)
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
Ellen York
This is an old one, but still a favorite of mine. I read it every year and it always makes me cry (there is a happy ending I promise, but the getting there always gets to me). Mad-sad, but I suppose it is the B7 equivalent of watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special every year. Happy Fedmas to all!

Good morning! Day 15, and it's puzzle time again Smile


Hidden in the grids below are the episode titles for all four series of B7. The words can be read in any direction, and some letters may overlap. Click on the grid to enlarge.

But wait - there's a catch!
The grids for Series A, B and D are each missing one of their episodes
The grid for Series C is missing two episodes
The grids for Series B and D each have an additional B7-related word.

Your mission is to solve the grids and identify the missing episodes. Have fun!

The solutions will be posted on Boxing Day.








Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
(16 December here; my country is an hour ahead and I have to get up very early)

This is the 16th door!
I have a “bite the time with a game” present for you!
Click here to play a B7 Christmas Sliding Puzzle and let us know your score in the comments thread and tell us what happens in that scene. Enjoy!

You don’t have time to do the puzzle ?
Then I also made some less time absorbing stuff for you to enjoy.
Look at these Christmas captions, based on some famous Christmas quotes.
Can you come up with some other Christmas related lines/scenes?



Jenna (Blake not noticing her, as usual):






Cally (referring to the Assimilation Course for Earth Immigrants book):


Orac ( blaming a typo in the Assimilation Course for Earth Immigrants Dictionary Appendix):


Dayna (raising her weapon):


Tarrant (smug):




Gan (revealing his sixth sense):






Security Ro(Hug)bot:


Del Grant:

Lara&Sue's Blake's 7 stories and *my PD as Kerr Avon Tribute*
*No, I am not. I am not expendable, I'm not stupid, and I'm not going.*
Hello boys and girls, it's time for our annual Fedmas Filk Fest and I have three new filky songs for you to sing Now, here we go, and a one and a two and a three...

Have a Very Merry Fedmas

(Sung to: Have a Holly Jolly Christmas)

Have a very merry Fedmas
And in case you didn't hear
Kerr shot Blake- that's no mistake
(But) the Fed guards gave good cheer

It's a bloody mess on GP
'Cause our heroes all went splat
But don't you fear, Arlen's here
What do you think of that?

Uh-oh, there's something wrong
Where is Servalan?
We can't end this way
Without her cunning plan!

(So) have a very merry Fedmas
And be full of hope and cheer
We'll meet each week, to watch our Blake
I'll see you all next year!

The GP Song

(Sung to: The Christmas Song, aka Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)

Wild hare roasting on an open fire
Roj Blake nipping at some gin
Arlen flushed, with her cheeks all aglow
It's Fedmas on GP this year

Tarrant's crashed the ship, what else is new?
Right into a forest track
Soolin, Vila and Dayna escape
And Avon leaves with his Orac

They say that Servie's on her way
She's brought lots of Fedmas troopers by the way
And every bounty hunter hopes and prays
That they'll have lots of easy pickings come the day

So let's just hope and pray our heroes live
And make it through the season too
I know it's been said, many times, many ways
Merry Fedmas to you

Justin Blows

(Sung to: Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow)

With love to the Horizon Rewatch gang!

Oh, the episode's quite horrendous
But our Og is just stupendous
So before we yell 'Go Og Go'
Justin Blows, Justin Blows, Justin Blows!

And the Og poo is all around
Have a care when you step on the ground
Justin didn't clean up the floor
Which made Avon slide through the door!

Old Og and his crew are dirty
So don't get verry flirty
And odor control's a go-
Justin Blows, Justin Blows, Justin Blows!

And the scenes with Servie are great
If you don't mind the science of hate
She can hypnotize Danya fast
But it just doesn't seem to last!

So before we get sick and nauseous
Of Justin- because it's so obvious
He's such an old perv, you know
Justin Blows, Justin Blows, Justin Blows!
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
Now what is behind the 18th door?
Why, it's another instalment of the All the Fun of the Fair Saga...
With another lovely piccie by Lurena

When we last saw Commissioner Sleer, she had taken a slow ride on the Tunnel of Love in the Amusement Park from Hell and then paid a visit to the Three Ring Circus.
Now she was heading towards a rendezvous with the entity behind the Park to put forward a proposition…

All the Fun of the Fair

A Christmas Gift

Commissioner Sleer had left the now darkened three ringed circus behind her, but as she walked towards her appointment, the desolate stalls began to spring into life. Lights dazzled her, some strange music began to sound from the ancient tannoy system and white flakes began to fall around her.
It was snowing, but she didn’t feel the slightest bit chilled.
It made the Amusement Park from hell almost magical; it was rather like…
‘..Walking in the Winter Wonderland...”
How apt, thought Sleer, as the music grew more intense.
She knew that her Guard Commander would be nervously awaiting her return, but the chance to come to an amicable agreement with whomever or whatever controlled this park was of greater importance.
She passed several rides and stalls, all with figures beckoning to her, but she ignored them.
Then she passed the shattered Mirror maze, but one mirror still seemed to have a reflection in it. She stopped to look…and suddenly he was there. Staring at her
“Well now, you couldn’t resist, could you?” the figure smiled, “But you are making a mistake.”
“That depends on your point of view, but I mustn’t keep my new associate waiting.”
She continued her meandering until a gaudy coloured tent caught her attention.
A sign outside proclaimed “Fortunes told; I know your past, present and your future.”
Sleer stood still.
Standing in the curtained entrance was a figure; it seemed to be a woman, her long dress and all covering veil seemingly gently blowing in the breeze.
But what breeze?
The woman raised her hand and invited Sleer in.

“Welcome,” the mysterious figure said, “Please be seated.”
Sleer cast a look around the darkened tent, heavily draped with dark curtains, some of which had seen better days.
There was only one available chair. It was by the round table, and the figure was seated opposite, its face hidden.
“I will look into your past, your present and…”
“My future?” Sleer said, slowly taking the offered seat, “I already have plans for that, I assure you. I do not need some side show quack to tell me.”
“And I assure you that I am no side show quack, as you so quaintly put it.”
Sleer smiled, “My apologies, but I have not come here to discuss me, but a proposition that will benefit you and the Federation.”
“So I understand.”
“You know of my offer?”
“I know all things. For instance, if I do agree to your proposition then you can be sure that HE will return.”
“The man named Avon. In the short time that he has been here, I have come to know him, his thoughts, just as I know yours.”
“I’m sure this is so thoroughly interesting…”
“Remember I know everything about you. Your past, your present and what you hope to achieve in the future. You have killed many people in your relentless pursuit of power, and even now, you must kill those who have the misfortune to remember you.”
“As I will kill you if you persist in openly referring to me by the name of a dead woman, woefully mistreated, her memory tarnished.”
“Avon has tried to kill me, as I him.”
“Then why did you fail?”
“Because he was surrounded by people he could trust and rely upon…break that trust and he will crumble. And now to your proposition. As you know this Amusement park was created as a form of execution; to make those condemned by the creators believe that they had a chance to win their lives and their freedom.”
“But I take it, none succeeded.”
Sleer was thoughtful for a moment. “Then I have a proposition for you. “
“Which is?” the mysterious figure asked.
“I know that there are those who would like to destroy this park and you, whoever you may be. But I can see to it that you continue as you are, but for the Federation. We have many criminals…”
“And you have many enemies…”
“Quite. I can arrange for you and this Amusement Park to remain open and continue as you were intended to function. Except, it will be my prisoners who come here.”
The masked figure was silent, and then slowly it lifted its veil, “I will consider that.”
For a moment Sleer was stunned into silence as she found that she was looking at a much younger image of herself. As she had been. Servalan.
“I should be honoured,” she said, finding her voice, “Now I will leave.”
Sleer took one last look at the figure seated before her and then made her way to the heavily draped exit.
But he was there; barring her way.
“He would be proud of you, making a pact with the devil.”
“Really and how would you know, you’re not even real, are you?”
“I may be a Hologram, but I know.”
“You flatter yourself.” Sleer smiled and tentatively put out her hand to touch the figure before her. She was surprised at just how solid the being was.
“Needs must,” she continued, “if I and the Federation are to survive. And I will be more than pleased to finally get the real Avon here, alone.”
“He will not die easily.”
“I don’t expect him to. Now, if you would excuse me…”
She walked away leaving the being that was Avon standing by the tent. She unhurriedly made her way back to the entrance and her waiting Commander.

“We were worried Ma’am.”
“No need. I have come to an arrangement with whatever it is that controls this place.”
“A machine?”
Suddenly the whole Park was bathed in bright lights and the unholy melody of music came from all the speakers as the entire park burst into life. It made for a strange, magical scene as the snowflakes continued to fall and the words “Walking in a Winter Wonderland echoed round the now active rides.
“It seems,” Sleer began, “That my offer has been accepted.”
“Offer Ma’am?”
“This park was built by the previous occupants of this system to rid themselves of miscreants and threats to their way of live. My offer to carry on that good work using the Federation’s dregs to fulfil that shortfall has met with approval.”
“Whose approval, Ma’am?”
In the distance came a strange, maniacal sound of laughter.
And in a darkened corner, lined with ancient arcade games, long forgotten by the original builders of this park, was a glass sided case. Inside was a wooden figure of a man; a man with a grotesque countenance. White, with garish colours emphasising his features; his attire somewhat worn, but that of a long time past Harlequin. He was sat on a throne, his wooden hands clutching the ornately carved arms.
His jowly face was set in a wide grin.
And he was laughing; rocking backwards and forwards in his dimly lit case…laughing.
And beside that case stood a lone, desolate figure.
He reached out and placed his right hand on the glass dome.
He did not laugh.
The thoughts of the man in whose image he was created bothered him…and ‘Avon’ sighed.
As the snowflakes fell and settled on the ground, ‘Avon’ held out his hand. He caught a flake, but it did not melt.
Slowly he turned on his heels and began to trudge through the snow, now lying in drifts.
The words ‘I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas’ echoed round him as he walked away and left the hideous mechanical creature to continue its maniacal laughter.
Soon this Amusement Park would reopen and welcome new, unsuspecting guests, unaware of the fate awaiting them.
Somehow he had to stop it.
But he knew he couldn’t do it alone…


* * *
And as I may be very busy that last day of the Advent calendar, here is a piccie of me and Mr D taken at Bournemouth Comicon a couple of years ago, to send all my fond wishes to all my B7 Friends who have kept me going over the last two years. Thank you.
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
(Pictures enlarge when clicked)

Great Christmas Blake Off Servalan Special presents:

Happy Fedmas to the loyal Federation citizens!

Festivities at Space Command Headquarters*!
(*puff pastry, lemon ricotta and minty rum sugar glaze)



Bonus footage of the scandalous attack on the Space Command by the Blake's gang (obtained from Tumblr records here, executed in choux pastry).

The terrorists have no regard for the festivities... (**)

But rest assured that the Supreme Commander and Travis escaped unscathed, and those black and white specs floating in space (ricotta, whipped cream and chocolate chips) are just shreds of their clothes!

(** The Vegetator creator is this Tumblr author, here's her original Vegetator post: https://comarum.t...-vegetator. After Space Command HQ explosion was posted on Tumblr, she wished to see Vegetator attacking it, and so it was done. Smile

And here are more B7-inspired culinary creations, enjoy: https://i-fought-...masterpost )


Post-episode notes:

Ever since I heard Space Command Headquarters called a doughnut I wanted to make it edible. Because not only doughnuts (and other round pastries) are tasty, but by eating Space Command HQ you'll disarm the Federation, thus rendering the Federation helpless.

Eat the Space Command HQ, help the rebellion!
Have a Merry Tasty Christmas!
Edited by Mrs_Underhill on 19 December 2019 14:00:20
(Since I will be out early in the morning; I'm posting Day 20 slightly early.)

*Click images to enlarge*


A blast from the past for my Advent Entry ...

Trivial Pursuit - The Original Genus Edition.

Bought when Trivial Pursuit first came out, it was played every Saturday at family get-together's. Aided and imbued with snacks and alcohol, we worked competitively in teams; laughed, bickered and fought to become the Supreme Winner(s)!

I still love it to this day; the box is battered, the cards are worn - and it doesn't matter how many times you've read and heard the questions, there is always one that you can never remember.

But this one here; my advent entry - and somehow appropriate this year, is an Entertainment Question which everyone in my family knew the answer to during 'Trivial Pursuit Night.'

Whether you've seen this card previously or if you're looking at it for the first time, I hope it will make you smile and think about Avon, dressed in his leathers, doing what he did best on the Liberator!

Question 2: Pink (Entertainment)

Feel free to try your hand at the other questions! No cheating!

Happy Christmas to everyone on Horizon Angry

Mistletoe x



While Blake’s 7 definitely has a Christmas episode, it is not very Christmassy. Fortunately, meticulous search in the BBC archives has now brought footage of a much more festive B7 Christmas episode to light!
Early for some, late for others depending on where you are in the Galaxy. My very first Advent Calendar entry. Apologies for the quality of the image.


Seasons Greetings to All and a Best Wishes for a Happy New Year!
Edited by Obsidian on 21 December 2019 14:43:04
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