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... and manages to restrain herself from purring, "Spike me, baby!" But only just. She emerged strangely revivified from a great evening where she, James Marsters and writer/musician Charles Shaar Murray exchanged blues guitar licks and discussed James's great love for the theatre following his gig at the Islington Carling Academy, 29th April 2005. Best known as ba-a-ad vampire Spike in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, James played one of our most popular arch-villains ever, setting a new record in extreme character arc to become a vamp with a soul and making even the normally cool Ms Chen's heart pound in her chest like a bloody big bass drum kicked to smithereens by Keith Moon and John Bonham back from the dead and mightily pissed. Oh, yes, it was that good. James was in town promoting his first album, Civilized Man. He released a second album in October 2007. Since Buffy and Angel, James has been in demand with regular appearances in Smallville, and Without A Trace, and, in January 2008, he guest-stars in the second season of BBC's Dr Who spin-off, Torchwood, which some of us are calling "Touch wood" in the hope that writer, creator and Joss-Whedon-wannabe Russell T Davies doesn't screw up this fine opportunity to show what Brits can do the way he did with the risible Dr Who Xmas special. Torchwood - or Wahey! My Cock's On Fire - has the sad reputation of being what you'd get if you gave seaside postcard artist Donald McGill an infinite number of internet pervs and keyboards and told them to get on with it. Torchwood season one is what you'd get pooed out the other end, albeit without the wit and artistic finesse, but we live in hope. I may just have to turn the volume down and sigh whenever James is on. I detected something of a bemused note in some of James's Interviews on the matter, politely writing off the show's infantile sexual idiosyncrasies as a British eccentricity. According to SyFyPortal.com, he told one convention audience: He probably thinks we all dress up in maids outfits and strap-ons and pray to the Great God Benny Hill. Russell, may I point out out the bleedin' obvious? James Marsters does not need your help in being sexy! James doesn't try: he be! One last beef: remember, there is only one Captain Jack and Keef Richards is his Dad. Yet another instance where Russell couldn’t keep his sticky mitts off a good idea.
Charles Shaar Murray shows James Marsters some hot blues licks
James and Charles chat. (Note Charles's invisible stake!)
James and Charles through the eyes of Francis Bacon
Anna Chen and James Marsters Big thanks to Roz and Lisa Click here for James Marsters' Live website Click here for Charles Shaar Murray at Rock's Back Pages All pictures (c) Anna Chen
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