and so... IT ENDS!

Salutations, Peoples of the Blogger Sphere, please attend carefully!

And so it has come to pass that the Sparacus Blog of Setting the Standards And Telling It Like It Is... fell. And Ben Chatham is no more. And I look down at my now pointless dominion, at a loss of what to do, and think it drammatically ironic. Might as well piss off and watch Series Four and forget any of this ever happened.

So, fellow Chathamaphobes, basically... um... end of the world... not that we ever wanted it to survive...

See you round, dudes.

+++INTERNET TRAFFIC IS ADVISED TO STAY AWAY FROM THE CHATHAM ODYSSEY BLOG+++

+++BLOGGERS ARE WARNED THE CHATHAM ODYSSEY BLOG IS NOW ENTERTING TERMINAL EXTINCTION+++

+++TERMINAL EXTINCTION IMMINENT+++

+++LOCATION LOCKED+++

+++TERMINAL EXTINCTION IMMINENT+++

+++ACCESS NO LONGER NECESSARY+++

+++TERMINAL EXTINCTION IMMINENT+++

+++AWAITING TERMINATION CODE+++

+++TERMINAL EXTINCTION IMMINENT+++

+++THE CHATHAM ODDYSEY BLOG IS CLOSED+++

+++THE CHATHAM ODDYSEY BLOG IS CLOSED+++

+++THE CHATHAM ODDYSEY BLOG IS CLOSED+++

(Adam the Eco-Terrorist Who Wears A Lot Of Hats plays a gentle tune called I Did It My Way On My Own Quite A Lot And Now I've Got A Sore Hand on a piano in the corner of a club filled with characters from The Ben Chatham Spin Off Misadventures. Ben Chatham, naked, leans next to the piano and sings with his usual staggering lack of talent to the audience.)

Ben: A stranger in the night.
I made it through
The rain and thunder.

(Ben straightens and addresses Richard III as he sits nearby.)

Ben: A strainer for the nose.
But what the heck?
I'm still the guvnor!

(Ben crosses to the bar where Rose Tyler, Corrine Shaw, Genna Nolastname, Donna Noble, and Kylie Minogue are sitting. He sits on the last bar stool as Katie Ryan creeps up behind the other girls and one by one beats them to death over the head with a spade she carries.)

Ben: Oh yes there were girls
All the round the world
In backs of cars
On every highway!

(Katie hastily sits down into the vacant chair directly in front of Ben. He tenderly reaches out to touch her face.)

Ben: But more
Much more than them

(He turns and looks adoringly in his reflection in the mirrors behind the bar.)

Ben: I love
Myself.

(Ben passes a long line of adoring fans: Brigadier Ashford, Paul Farraday, George W Bush, Harriet Jones, several odd-looking aliens whose names begins with zed, Charles Broxby, Jake Simmonds, Nick Nolastname, James Deadmeat, Karl Simpson, Robin Hood, Kyle Scott, Captain Jack and Adam Rickitt.)

Ben: I'm always
My own man!

(Ben invites several of the men to ruffle his hair. Kyle tells Ben to fuck off.)

Ben: I am the king
Of every castle!

(Katie appears behind Kyle and garottes him with cheese wire as Ben wanders off, not noticing.)

Ben: I've lived with
My own clan!

(Ben is now with a bunch of elderly, stereotypically homosexual Nazi-sympathizing Oxford dons smoking pipes and shooting up with Fox's Glacier Mints.)

Ben: I've disappeared
Up my own asshole!

(Ben returns to stand by the piano. Stephen Poole is playing it and mugging to the camera.)

Ben: What is a guy
If he don't do
What he must do?
Dee do be do be dooo.

(Ben appears to be talking to his reflection again.)

Ben: I'm proud
To say out aloud
I love

(The reflection in the mirror grabs Ben's head, headbutts him and leaves him to fall to the floor, bleeding from the nose.)

Ben: ...my...self...

(He takes a sip from a glass of absinthe, then spits it out in the face of Anselm Ashduxforthshireworth, who doesn't for a moment take his eyes off Ben.)

Ben: I spat it out!
I stuck it in!
And waggled it about!

(Ben is once more by the piano. Hitler is now playing the piano with his usual flair. Ben starts making ridiculously elaborate hand gestures as he loses all pretense of talent.)

Ben: I took it on
I played it rough!
I knocked it off!
And hammed it up!

(He passes a police box, a scruffy youth counting acorns, and David Bowie.)

Ben: I'm full of grit!

(He returns to David Bowie with a lustful expression.)

Ben: I'm full of shit!

(At the piano, Ben himself is now playing. He's rubbish.)

Ben: I'M FULL OF
MYYYYYYYYYYYYYYSEELLLFFF!

(Ben lies on a bed, drenched in honey.)

Ben: And now
I'm near the end.
There is nothing
Left for me to see.

(We now see his boyfriends from Steve Carly to Kyle Scott are licking this off.)

Ben: Surrounded by my friends
True gentlement
You know, I have
A degree!

(The open doors of the club, beyond which is a blindingly bright blue sky. The scrawny silhouette of Ben stumbles out into the light.)

Ben: And when I die
Don't say "goodbye"

(The silhouette turns and stretches out its weak arms, ala Jesus on the cross.)

Ben: I'll come back for
My res... erection.

(We see a brief glimpse of Ben - balding, emaciated, body ravaged from a life time of alcohol abuse, malnution, and glazed honey orgies - before we return to the silhouette in the doorway.)

Ben: Oh, don't cry
Bold blue eyes
I've still got
MY... SELF!

(As the music reaches a crescendo, a strange figure in a scaly outfit with fins sprouting from the head, a sad clown mouth and fried-egg eyes steps in front of the silhouette and closes the doors to the club with a rumbling crash. And on the closed doors is a poster marked:

Finale - Crystal

BRISTOL

Parte the First - Pissweak Cliffhanger Reprise Retcon

The TARDIS lands in the grounds of The Cedars Private Clinic For Absolute Fucking Nutters in Bristol, a well-maintained Victorian building set among a spacious and well-kept garden.

"THIS is the best you can do?!" Donna Noble complains as she, Tom Wallace and the Doctor stagger out onto the grass, struggling to support the immensely gravid Ben Chatham/Benita Chatham/Abby Simpson.

"Exclusive private clinic, her own time zone, where her family can visit, lovely Victorian neo-gothic architecture. It's not that bad, surely!"

"I thought we'd be off to some space lab or something to turn her back!" Tom growls, referring to a previous plot development which, for the moment, completely escapes me and might actually be completely irrelevant.

"No point," the Doctor says grimly. "She can't change back, not physically at least, her DNA is completely rewritten."

"You mean I'm stuck like this forever?" wails the pregnant blonde. "Oh very perceptive," she suddenly chips in irritated. "I don't know why you bother with her, Doctor. What sort of companion are you dragging around without me? I bet she uses heroin and suffers withdrawal symptoms! Is that why you're dumping me in this lunatic asylum?"

"Oh, this is just creeping me out," Tom complains.

"Abby's still alive!" Donna gasps with delight, and they promptly drop her.

"Yeah," the blonde complains. "But now I'm stuck sharing my head with a complete bastard. Quit dissing me! Whatever I've done I'm still Ben Chatham and you all love me! Oh great, loads of commonophobia, chavophobia, childophobia! You are constructing a simplistic caricature of my complex mental state! And a split personality who wusses out of all the dangerous business, instead choosing to drink over-expensive alcohol and sleep with fellow posh men. I am truly blessed. Now you're talking sense. Oh shut the fuck up, Ben!"

to be continued...

RIP Sparacus?

As fellow blogger Dom Kelly of http://tds4atoday.blogspot.com/ says:

There’s a guy on Outpost Gallifrey called Sparacus who has for ages been doing his own stories with spinoff character Ben Chatham, who is basically a misogynist tosser. The stories are strange and repetitive and dull, and I at first enjoyed watching the line by line criticisms of them unfold, but eventually found it all rather sad and disheartening. That’s the case with basically any idiot on the net now; I tend to laugh heaps at them, and then feel really sad for them. Not guilty, cos I don’t do guilt over the internet (er, mostly), just sad that that’s how they are.

Well said. Is Spara finally gone? Well, his blog is off limits to the entire internet. Some speculate that he has been annihilated by his former employers. And silence is all that is heard.

No... wait...

Regarding my blog, it is no more end of. It is just a place for me to store info but as a public blog - gone, over, finished. I use the internet for enjoyment not to create hassle for myself dealing with some of the things being posted.

...

Obviously too drunk to write in a diary, then.

Well I do think its time to 'rest' Ben Chatham for a while. I shall still write stuff but not post stories for some time. Things are getting out of hand . Well I'll finish 'Crystal' as i've started it and build the 'rest' into the storyline lol

How WILL I cope?!

Still, at least the wikipage will now be definitive.

Meantime, Spara hit the big time with THIS article noting what an utter nutter he is, and why no one takes him seriously. We salute you, Ted Grant!

Part of me is hoping that “sparacus” is fully committed to an elaborate hoax, that he’s only pretending to play the pretentious fan-fic writer who thinks he can do better than the people who are actually paid to do the show for a living, but, well…

Meantime, some more quotes about the smoothe scumbag himself:

Ben Chatham is a Doctor Who companion played by Adam Rickitt.

(On Ben's diet)
Ben doesn't do cum-facials. He's too delicate.

(On Ben's sluttiness)
Ben Chatham is not a rent boy. Neither is Adam Rickitt. If I walked up to Adam and offered him £200 for a horny session involving massage oil & dildos he'd no doubt be shocked.

Ben Chatham on youtube! Theres loads of them! Unfortunately without broadband I find Youtube too slow to use. But I'm sure they've very good.
(upon learning what Johnstone's vids were like)
Ben does tend to induce a strong reaction in people.

(On "Wolf")
Its set on New Years Eve. and Ben saves the day

(On the word "smoothe")
An in-joke

(On me doing artwork for his "annual")
I've been relaxing in the garden drinking white rum after retrurning to Colchester. But seeing this 'graphic art' on OG has had my sides splitting.... That comic strip is the work of YOA by the way. I am impressed actually, although I'm told its quite easy to do if you know how.

(On the Spartha Jones Annual)
LOL

(On my wikipage)
How amusing that my online activities should be so infamous. Actually i'm in the mood to go over there & write some more of my latest styory. Fuck I've just noticed that a certain Ewan Campion-Clarke aka 'Youth of Australia' had a heavy hand in writing it....

(On the wikipage's deletion)
I request that people get over there and post 'do not delete' comments soon as there are a whole string of humourless 'delete' ones. It just goes to show what a flawed concept Wikipedia is. Its supposed to be an encyclopedia anyone can contribute to and then they delete whole pages. There was nothing factually innacurate about that page.

(On Doc Filth's greatest creation)
I stress that Ben Chatham is a popular companion with many fans and is discussed more often than the likes of Bernice Summerfield. As such he qualifies as canon in the view of many, however derivatives like this Tom Wallace character are non-canon.

(On canon)
What is and what is not definable as canon in Doctor Who fiction/tv derivatives constitute a huge proportion of the debates on OG. They can get very heated and emotional. Any story, no matter how well written is not part of the Whovianological canon without the exploits of Ben Chatham and I suspect that most people would rather find out how the Ben/Katie relationship plays out and whether Ben saves the earth from the Xmas alien menace than this immature xmas Kylie Minoge runaround.

(After inviting me to join him on Moopy)
YIKES!. So YOA has registered on HERE Moopsters have no idea whats in store for them...... When on OG, YOA used to reply to my posts with 4000 word essays. You take such banter too seriously. I hope you lot don't make YOA 'run the gauntlet' in the usual initiation way with newcomers. He'll go ballistic

(On the suggestion he wanks over Ben Chatham)
Someone has been changing it

(No, I don't understand what he means either)


And now... OUR FEATURE PRE-ZEN-TAYSHUN!!! Celebrating the end of the Chatham era!!

BEFORE BEN CHATHAM THERE WAS ALISTAIR AND BEFORE ALISTAIR THERE WAS...

Beth Chatto the Neanderthal Man of Ben Chathmness!

Beth Chatto was sitting in his Chelmsford besdit drinking Special Brew when all of a sudden out of nowhere there was a huge explosion.

His windows caved in and part of his ceiling collapsed.

Beth was thankful that this happened to him all the time otherwise he would have flinched.

At this point he phones Belgian popstar Kate Ryan, who lives in Belgium.

By complete luck she was in her flying car which can cut out whole plotlines.

At this point Kate knocks on the door enters Beth’s house. She has a bottle of white lightning and some heroin.

This conveniently leads us to the next day when they both wake up on a park bench smacked out of their tits.

Kate wakes up and nudges Beth. Beth stirs and reminds her that was too much detail.

Kate in her drug ridden state pipes up “Why are you washed up has been Adam Rickett, when you could be any amount of more recent actors?”

Beth stirs and explains “The Y2 Virus meant that all popular culture following 1st January 2000 doesn’t exist and I’m stuck in the past”

Kate didn’t understand.

Beth told her “Why not use my magic ‘telling us stuffmatron’… It has superpowers which reveal all!”.
Kate confided she’d already googled it and realised that she was Lolly.

"What’s Google?” exclaimed Beth.

“It doesn’t matter, don’t forget there was an explosion yesterday”

At this point aliens arrive, some implausible stuff happens and it was all a dream.