Station Of Critical Review By Kennedy Hiscox-Wormegay: The 13 O'Clock Podcast

The 13 O'Clock Podcast

Kennedy's Laborious Introduction

Sentiment of greeting, at you, from me! 'Twas too long a period of silence and no-speak, and it was high time for rectification. And here I am, ready to rectify. Rectii. Rectus, Rectum. That's probably Latin for something clever. I shall have my offspring check it on an internet for verification.

The last time I did dare venture out to offer my critical reviews, I was prevented by the cad, Dex Diabolo. And a cad he is. I would have had plenty to say about the wonders of Peter Davison's The Hunt For The Ptero-dactyle Apostates, amazing and full of wonder as it is. But shunned were I, and quiet I stayed.

But not no more. I am back, returned from the hospital ward where I was stowed, to bring to you my most achieviest achievement to date. Upon my headstone will be chiseled the words, "Here lay the greatest critic, Kennedy Hiscox-Wormegay, whose words toppled libraries."

(Kennedy won't be writing the headers, 'cos he's sh*t at them. - Ed.)

Jenny's and Tom's Guilty Pleasures: Real-Word Criminality and Bat-Shit Crazy People's Bat-Shit Crazy Paranormal Experiences

As my legion of four regular readers will attest, I am decidedly unfamiliar with the trappings of the Wide World Web. That said, I have been known to venture into its wiry and electronical depths, to drag facts out into the light for the consumption of my legion, which includes my psychiatrist, his psychiatrist, the editor of Beware! The Zine, and the guy who delivers my meals-on-wheels and who also proof-reads my work.

This week's wondrous digital offerings are made in the old British colony of the United States of America, which is an island off Cuba. It is a podcast, which is like a worm cast which you find on a beach, but instead of containing worm guts and sand, it contains information.

The 13 O'Clock Podcast is still relatively young, but has swept forward with its foul-mouthed, common-sense attitudes toward famous paranormal events and real-life crime stuff. The routine is of a weekly arrangement, alternating between spooky things, such as ghostly intrusions and cryptozoological weirdies, and evil murder killy moments of life-ending ferocity. 'Tis clear that the podcast boss and goth-fringe-wearer, Jenny Ashford, is dedicated to the study of these two disparate subjects, and she is accompanied by goth companion and romantic property, Tom Ross, who provides exposition and vape sound effects. The vaping is very audible. Is there a hidden message in the puff pattern of Tom Ross? Perhaps he is crying out for help? Or perhaps he is crying out for more vape? Or perhaps I am overthinking this.

But it is true that Tom vapes A LOT.  He sounds like a train puffing steam. He is Tom The Vape Engine.

(Enough with the vape talk! We don't need a lawsuit!- Ed)

Jenny Ashford and Tom Ross, of the 13 O'Clock Podcast.

One should make mention of the fruity linguistic palette with which Ashford and Ross paint their wordy deliberations. They like to use what colonists call curse-words, but which Britons call potty-mouth. Never in a million minutes did I think I would hear so exotic a word as f-f-f... Ack! I cannot bring myself to repeat it, lest I explosively blush all the blood out of my face and onto the floor! I shall leave such naughty-word-talk to Messrs Ashford and Ross! They are good at it.

"POLTERGEIST!"

This is what Tom shouts when Jenny describes a ghostly anything. It seems that once in Tom's young life, he lived upon a mountain where spectral mammoths did wander, and his home was invaded by them. I may have an incorrect end of the stick, but that is the gist. And every time Jenny does suggest a ghost, Tom doth utter, "Poltergiest!" and "That'll be poltergeist activity!" and "Are there kids there? That's poltergeist!" I think he really likes poltergeists. Or maybe just the word. Jenny Ashford wrote a book with Tom about his mammoth poltergeist problem.

Tom does not ever sound like a mad person in the podcast, and this lends weight to any strange things he might make utterance of. The Mammoth Mountain Poltergiest can be purchased here. Read it and know of Tom Ross's unusual life before he was an army man.

The Unseen Hand

Jenny Ashford likes to write. If it were not for her fondness for talking, one might make a speculation that it is all she does. Write and write. She is of a prolific disposition and has written about subjects other than Tom Ross's poltergeist-ridden childhood. She has written about an unseen hand. Now, one might wonder how much there is to say about a hand which cannot be seen, but I am ensured that this is a metaphor, and that I probably also misunderstood the mammoths in the previous paragraph. This book deals in exclusivity with poltergeist phenomena, which must make Tom Ross very extra happy. It is a lengthy and example-saturated collection of historical and newish cases, and each one is given just enough typed attention to be interesting, but not so much that it should be a different book – such is Jenny Ashford's skilled treatment of The Unseen Hand. The audio book is of welcoming nature, but regular listeners of the podcast might be perturbed by the lack of swearing and also the lack of Tom Ross.

Those who wish to roll their eyes upon the text of this may do so via Amazon, here.

That is all from me. If you missed me, the blame must fall firmly at the feet of Beware!'s editors. If you didn't miss me, you will learn to.

Faithfully yours,

Kennedy H-W

(If you want to hear/see more from Jenny and Tom, and you want to support them, consider purchasing one of their physical or audio books, or go to their Patreon page, here. And don't forget to listen to the podcast! - Ed)

Late Edition! Jenny added that she writes true crime literature, too. Check out 'The Faceless Villain' here.

Station Of Critical Review By Kennedy Hiscox-Wormegay: The TetZoo Podcast

The pleasure of being assigned this particular review should not be overstated, and sits at my feet like a cross between a hot water bottle and a happy dog, minus the smell of new rubber. It is not often that the staff at Beware! The Zine is sent requests to appraise anything specific, but when a typed letter arrives in an unmarked envelope at 3am, well, we'd write a review about the structural integrity of quilted toilet paper if that's how its request was delivered.

Where to start? Well, we're not even sure what we're meant to call the subject of our review. It has been called, variously, TetZoo Podcast, TetZoo Podcats, Tetzoo Podcart, Petting Zoo Food Mart and Non-Christians Against Fish - though under this name, many people assumed it to be a clever hoax - it wasn't. For the sake of simplicity, we shall refer to it as 'Tezpo'. Tezpo backwards is 'Opzet', which is, coincidentally, the name of one of its presenters' pet tapir.

The short-lived TetZoo Top Trumps. 

 Tezpo is the brain-baby of zoological co-conspirators Darren 'Dawn Tyrant' Naish (apparently named for his morning temperament) and John 'Crusher' Conway, who crushed time dedicated to any given Tezpo topic to two minutes, much like a Republican Governor handles educational spending. Twitter users may recognise Naish's name from its association with the #chickensaurus event, whereby he called upon tetrapod lovers to resist a conspiracy by John R. Horner to create an army of giant 'Maximum Chickens'. Seemingly it worked, because chickens are still rather small. Those of an art-appreciating disposition may know Conway through his works of art. He depicts old things. And new things. And some unsettling things. But always beautiful things. Except for this. And this.

Being of a different time, it was of importance-absolute that I did make an effort to acquire a person familiar with the concept of internet. That person is the local postmaster's daughter, Hepzibah. She is of the Age of Digital, and owns an MP3-to-Wax-Cylinder converter, facilitating my scrutiny of these scientific lectures. The Digital Age is not so different to the Wax Age, with the exception that the Wax Age usually falters in Summer.

Collector's favourite, John Conway.

Armed with five-hundred-and-forty wax cylinders and enough navy rum to pickle a Harry Secombe, I locked myself away from the harassment of modernity, and began my foray into the world of Naish and Conway. And what a world it is. The first thing which struck me about the ears like an irate spinster was the music. It is very sensible. It lulled me into a false sense of security, for I imagined that the rest of the programme would be similarly sensible. How horrified I was to discover that this show is a blend of dry science, popular science, film reviews and humour. Yes. Humour. I wondered about what else the weary listener should brace themselves for. Interpretative dance? A lecture on why the Empire might not be a good thing, perhaps? Preservation of the Fen dialect?

With the progression of the series, each episode quickly turned into a long list of corrections of mistakes from the previous episode. O! How awful a time the receptionist at Tezpo Headquarters must have when the mail boy brings in those sacks of letters from disillusioned listeners - though, it must be said, it doesn't appear to dissuade people from listening. It is almost as if they listen for the steady stream of errors - perhaps as many as three or four each episode - in the same manner that a social outcast might sit at a bus station recording the busses which pass through like sweetcorn passes unchanged through a child. Common errors include misremembering plot elements from films of the Planet Of The Apes franchise, announcing the discovery of only one new tapir EVERY episode, and mispronouncing the names of everybody referenced in the episode. On several occasions, I believe, Naish even pronounces his own name incorrectly, uttering "nich", and commenting on how it will upset listeners in Jamestown. And maybe Boston. Cohn Jonway never mispronounces his own name, for he is the thinking-organ of this outfit, as demonstrated by the discussions which sway in his favour.

It was not long until Tezpo disciples, or 'podkittens', concocted a method by which the backlash to these errors could be softened.* A drinking game was devised as a call-to-action for weak-willed listeners to ply themselves with thee deville's fluids, numbing the brain and resulting in a fog in which they were hopelessly lost. Drink must be consumed for such incidents as Naish forgets the show is about tetrapods and deviates into a monologue about a film he doesn't like. More drink must be drunk if Conway has not seen that film, and still more drink must be swallowed if Conway then offers forth an opinion about that film which he has not seen. ALL of the drink must then be had should Conway eventually realise that he has seen the film. And this happens for every episode. In addition, there are numerous other drink-worthy elements which recur with such frequency that it is hard to be believe that any Tezpo's listeners survive to hear the wind-down lounge music which terminates each performance. The result is that no one can remember any of Naish's vicious slurs against fish or invertebrates, and no fish-lovers or arachnoculturist harbour any resentment towards him, nor his Conway. The rules for this debauchery may be found here, along with many details such organisations would usually keep to themselves. It is clear from the titles held by its members that this 'Empire' has ideas above its station, with Naish and Conway seemingly keen on elevating their band of infamy to the status of a cult. Beware.

*This is usually attributed to The Shadow Man, Mike Keesey, though, as seems fitting for such an irregular set of individuals, a 'Yodelling Cyclist' has also had considerable input. Irresponsible alcohol consumption, cycling, yodelling. Where will it all end?

The Tetzoo Podcast, hosted by Darren and John, may be enjoyed sensibly here. John Conway's art may be enjoyed and, preferably, purchased here. Darren Naish blogs at Scientific American's site, here. 

You can also support John and Darren at their respective Patreon profiles.