Geek? Me?

Gandalf stands by the showmasters' forum lounge, stalwart and unmoving. His gaze pierces and surveys the passing assortment of an intriguing cross-section of a population.

Middle-aged trekkies mingle with pre-teen fangirls. Housewives glide past in full hobbit costume chatting amiably with pvc-clad goth girls with unholy hair and corsetry.

So far he's counted 15 Eveningstars and 12 One Rings.

Opposite him on a stand is a signed Will Turner photograph, and the Smeagol standee just in front of him is bad company indeed. Just as well he's being sold to already overladen fans, chubby cheeked and eager for just a slice of the fandom pie.

They snatch up dear Sméagol, and Gandalf can't quite bring himself to mourn the loss of his demented presence. Maybe he's off to get signed. His alter-ego is up to ticket number 240 on the autographs, but Gandalf's heard rumours of Grease songs warbled in a throaty Gollum voice.

Who knows what's in store for a Sméagol standee?

You're the one that I want... ooh ooh ooh, prescioussss.