Don't Know Who You Are, But, Erm... Thanks?
When my postman isnt sunning himself in some tropical land, or refusing to be a scab during the perpetual postal strikes that make my job as a reviewer an absolute sodding nightmare, he sometimes puts interesting things through my letterbox. I'm always glad to receive goodies (I'm a merch fiend) and my bedroom is a nerdy testament to my passions, which sounds a lot like a CSI team would find a modern-art style smattering of gentlemen's relish all over my room if they brought in the black lights. Anyway... A few mornings ago I awoke to this lying on my floor- no official packaging, no stand, just the main figure in a padded envelope- as if my own particular cylon had gone mental on the journey to my doormat- curiously minus any kind of introductory letter or return address. To my mystery benefactor I thank you, and to everyone else, look how good the merchandis for Battlestar Galactica is...