This one's for Manuela, Fillip, Marcus Morgan, Tanya, Derek, David Bishop, Dave Taylor, Wendy, Andy Lane, Charlie 'the man with no name' Stross, Karen, Neil, Kevin, Kevin, Trish and Daniel, Beth, Rebecca, Peter, everybody at the LBG, Charlie 'X-file' Adlard, Giles and Liz and Ben, the Crimson Pirate, Hector, Julie, Jon and Caroline, little Amy, Paul Cornell, Charlie 'sad male fantasy' Gillespie, Sharon, Kim, Lush, Jeff Cummins, the nice people of Bifrost, the other nice people at Off-Pink, the rather less nice pack of money-grubbing jackals at the British comic-book industry, Fritz Leiber, Anna Maria and John, Erroll Flynn, the memory of 'Susan', Roger Langridge, Claire, the other Claire, Steve Marley, Mum, Dad, Andy Bodie, Caspar, the Lemonheads, any number of Simons, Harry Harrison's Star Smashers of the Galaxy Rangers, Gerard, Clive, Andrew Cartmel, Michelle Shocked, Mo, Richard, Vince and all those other many unsung others for variously sometimes simultaneously and in no related order whatsoever giving me inspiration, information, undeserved love, a sofa to sleep on, a shoulder to cry on, jokes, more jokes, a sounding-board for my jokes, mutual massage, pause for thought, an outlet for otherwise unpublishable venomous rants, paying work, unconditional support and the crawling pain of grief and loss that never ends; for providing models to aim for, templates skeletons for heroes and villains to infest and animate, unending helpful suggestions, sporadic sex, a soundtrack, beautiful art in a variety of contexts, free money and, just when I needed it, a reason to live; for reducing me to an incoherent spitting fury, for stroking my hair, for wilfully misunderstanding every word I say, for cooking me breakfast, for being drop-dead gnaw-ya-knuckle gorgeous; for the heat of you, the odd cheap thrill, your friendship, talent, pint of semi-skimmed milk, understanding, asinine spite and all those tempestuous nights under the stairs with the tub of Swarfega and the bullwhip.Stuff. Thing. Anyhow.D.S.