The Net-presence

Fear me!HEY, YOU! Yes, you. Do you even exist? This is, as you are aware if you exist, the frames version of my site. It is hell to update, and a constant thorn in my side. What's more, I strongly suspect that nobody uses it, or even realises it's here. Want to prove me wrong? Please do. Otherwise I just might pull the plug on it. You have been warned. If you exist.

Ahem.

Well, Free-Online chose to cancel my account just because of the quibbling detail that I hadn't used it for so long I could have been declared legally dead. So I have taken my business elsewhere: here!

Why is my counter so high? I have no idea. I'm getting more than one visitor a day; it's ridiculous. Who are all you people? This is a person's homepage, you should be cursing it and scrolling down the search results to a page that really does have something to do with souls, or whatever! (I've looked at the statistics, and I really have got some weirdos visiting here. Really. They make me look sane.)

There's really not a lot new here. As always. A whole host of new pictures (sort of,) and an introduction to the lore of the Jackstah... I have some new feedback to put up, too, but I'm not sure whether I can bring myself to do it; it's all so mediocre. You people don't deserve this site...

Capitalist sector
Pictures
Animation
Others
Links
Myself
Feedback
Decide

Legal stuff (important)

I last edited this site on the 30th of July, in the space year 2002. Now it's time to patiently wait once more. Put some music on, if you like.

According to the all-seeing prophesy-o-counter, you are.. (gasp) visitor number The all-important figure. Remember it, yours may be the LUCKY NUMBER O' FUN...... it really makes you feel valued, doesn't it? Look at that number. That is what this website is worth. And you are worth precisely ONE. Think about that, won't you?

You watch me watching you. And look: these fine people are safeguarders of the REAL site statistics... the ones YOU WILL NEVER SEE.

This site is ©2000-2001 James Burrows. So keep your filthy hands off, lest I find your house, and drench it in fuel in preparation for an act of violence.