Bradmas came early this year. I suppose that’s only to be expected when you live in the future.

After a long and censored day of work which ate away at bradmas like a ravenous cur, the quitting horn sounded and I, for want of a dinosaur, turned off my computer and flowed straight out the door.

I changed from my filthy work-clothing (building the internet is a dirty business), to something more dracula-friendly, and it was off to Dracula’s Cabaret Restaurant.

There was singing, screaming, possibly some dancing, and even some food. There were “jokes” and “illusions”, a few ridiculously drunk people, and more screaming. Our draculet was Suicide Blonde, and much of the shrieking came directly from her.

Happy Bradmas, and don’t forget to collect your doom at the door.