There have been dramatic scenes at the World Food Programme's head office in Rome today, as celebrity chef Gordon Ramsey added his weight to the objections laid out by the Burmese Junta.

As planes finally began to unload their cargo at Myanmar Airport, Ramsey was seen wielding a baseball bat and demanding that the food be sent back to its country of origin...

Detective Inspector Peter Legge listened while his car door clunked solidly behind him. It was satisfying sound and its novelty hadn't yet worn off. It was a clunk that assured him that his money had been well placed. After years of making do with a flimsy Nissan, he had a car that clunked properly...

"What the hell is going on!" I screeched with anger. I was shouting so hard that the back of my throat had started to sting. My eyes grew wider as I glared at the long line of cars in front of me. I glanced at the clock: 18:24pm. "Typical!" I said to myself. The one night I leave work early to go out, I get caught up in traffic. I was supposed to meet Ben almost half an hour ago. I'd tried to call him to say that I was going to be late, but the blasted signal on my phone was dead. Stupid phone, stupid cars. "Move! For Gods sake!" I yelled, but it was no use, we were stuck and weren't going anywhere. I reached over to the glove compartment, fumbled around and eventually pulled out a crumpled packet of Marlboro Lights that had been stuffed away for use in emergencies. There was one left inside and I really needed to calm down. I wound down the window. Summer heat and the sound of humming engines poured into the car. I lit up and took a long drag from the cigarette...

It must be at least ten minutes since the front door clicked gently shut. The roaring inside my head has subsided, so I can at least tell for sure that all is quiet in the flat. This is not good. This is not good at all. My chest and stomach are in contention to see which can clench tightest. I think I’m going to heave. Deep breath. Swallow hard. The night sounds are clear now; I can hear vehicles passing intermittently, the tyres on the wet street like waves breaking on a starlit beach. Nothing else. He must be gone. I’m going to throw up. I gulp again to quell the sensation...

It all started with someone's music teacher.

They mentioned that they had come across this website called Activeworlds. A 3D world where you could build houses and talk to people online, from anywhere in the world. Back in 1999 it seemed like a really imaginative use of the internet. Can you remember what it was like back then? Ive seen some photos on here, with people reminiscing about their early computers, so I guess so...

In fond memory of Mark Speight.