I definitely won't be applying for this which sounds more insane than almost anything Ballard ever dreamed up. You can wonder really what the organisers - the European Space Agency and the wonderfully titled Institute of Biomedical Problems - are looking to discover. Perhaps the strangest thing about it though is that Endemol aren't involved in any way, at least not yet. As soon as the floods have subsided I am thinking of organising a similar experiment in my cellar, if anyone wants to participate. 

A place to eat where the words ‘fresh food prepared on the premises’ seemed more like a warning than any kind of advertisment or inducement to consume. Indeed as a statement it only seemed to flag the need for more detailed enquiries, suggesting questions like – where exactly on the premises was the food allegedly prepared, by whom and when?

 *

A very strong new story from M John Harrison here at 1001 Nites Cast from the great prompt "not a hint of irony".  Maybe it's my jetlag but this one seems more melancholic than the others Mike's done there. Perhaps it's all in the narrator's distance from events, and in his articulation of a world in which certain possibilities cannot or should not, or can no longer be explored.

 For no good reason (I think) the story brought to mind these lines which I'd cut and pasted from an online guide to Beijing, a few of years ago.

 After the destruction of all the capital's dogs in 1950, it was the turn of sparrows in 1956. A measure designed to preserve grain, its only effect was to lead to an increase in the insect population. To combat this, all the grass was pulled up, which in turn led to dust storms in the windy winter months.

I'm writing again for the 1001 project on Friday - I have the feeling its going to be a strange one since because of timezones I'm getting the prompt first thing in the morning and I have to have it written by noon.  

In the walkway down to the plane, the guy behind us says:

"Clinton won't be elected. She has such high negatives". 

There's a collection of white plastic garden furniture stood beside the pool in the hotel basement. Six chairs, a couple of loungers, a trio of small tables (maybe footstools, its hard to say). On one of these, in any case, set at an angle like the earth titled on its axis, is a green apple, from which several bits have been taken. A man is swimming with his daughter, some blokes come and go from the steam room. Nothing happens.

Later a woman wearing some kind of semi-uniform (in the general area of nurse/dental hygenist/pharmacist), comes out from the health-spa reception and dons a pair of the white latex 'Inspection Gloves' from the box that's lain on the floor near the entrance. She walks over to the small table, picks up the apple in her gloved hand, and takes it - held at a sceptical distance from her body - back out towards reception for disposal I guess, or some kind of forensic analysis.