Grigori Rasputin was actually restored to life a short while ago. Not many people know that. He lives a peaceful life in a hidden corner of the world and avoids going to Tesco's because people keep mistaking him for someone called Sirius Black.

From Russia with love, healing, mysticism and a mesmerising hypnotic gaze...

I am your master and you will dance on my command when I speak the words: "Ra ra Rasputin!"

"Shall I be believed? I do not know. And it matters little, after all...

"... I'm Jules Verne, chronicler of the improbable and extraordinary. But there's something kind of fantastic about that, isn't there?"

 

Grandfather of Science Fiction he may well have been, but Mr. Verne was refusing to accept any responsibility for the small child who had infiltrated the studio and scribbled on the backdrop to his portrait. 

"Kiss me, Hardy!"? I call that bold talk for a one-eyed, one-armed sea man!

 

After swiftly dispatching both mint choc chip and raspberry ripple, Nelson set to work on the Neopolitan campaign.