…and beyond the United Nations

I’ve decided that when I grow up, I want to be a member of Torchwood.  I want to meet alien menaces that fall into two categories: rather slimy and gross, or unbelievable female knockouts built for sex.  My compatriots and I, all of whom are bisexual, will shoot the first and shag the second.  (There are in fact the occasional male knockouts, and I suppose I’d shag them too, being all egalitarian and such.  The peer pressure not to would be unbelievable.)  Then we’d pal around Cardiff and shoot or shag each other – I’ll opt for the second, given my druthers.

I imagine Cardiff, given the stigma surrounding it, which manifests in the “it really ain’t that bad” vibe around it and their making-of specials, to be like Baltimore or Philadelphia.  In fact, I could be the Jack Harkness of Torchwood Five in Baltimore.  I’ll need to get a long black coat, and some way of getting to the top of the Shot Tower or something so I can pose.

Honestly, I do like the show, and need to see season two at some point.   It gave me an idea not too long ago (or at least developed it a great deal) for a trio of paranormal-hunting characters who live as a polyamorous triad – the central male was a real Larry Stu – as the anchor of a Torchwood-like team, but I haven’t really gone anywhere with it.  Which is probably for the best.

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