After being revealed in leaked emails the Sony hack in December which set the web tingling Marvel and Sony finally confirmed thatSpider-Man is returning to the Marvel line-up. Well sort of - much like every single 90s sitcom crossover the characters won't mention or acknowledge each other when they swing back to their respective rival franchises as Sony will still produce any solo Spider-Man films. In honour of this amazing, spectacular, sensational news Squeamish Bikini asked which characters from unconnected franchises would you like to see team up.

1. This reminds me of the mind blowing time when characters from Channel 4's Brookside and Hollyoaks crossed a bridge at the same time and they appeared in each other's episodes! I think they call that the magic of TV. I'd love this to occur with Mulder and Scully and Buffy. A nice occult themed comic book story would be there perfect setting for this trio. Squeamish Nicola

2. When you're offered a dream crossover event, the temptation is to just lump in the most awesome, coolest characters you can think of, like a 5 year old playing with his toys, or the producers of The Expendables films. But like the second series of Broadchurch, or inviting Kanye to an awards show, that isn't always the greatest idea. 

Instead of throwing together heroic heroes who will be insufferably heroic with each other, it would be far more interesting to see the results of a more incongruous pairing - one which brings together characters who are as far from being natural bedfellows as Katie Hopkins is from the human emotion of what you earth-people call 'empathy'.

With this in mind, it would be enormous fun to see how Batman would get on hanging out with Swerve from the Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye comics as his new sidekick. Forget a winsome, eager youth like Robin hero-worshipping him - what The Dark Knight needs is the mechanoid equivalent of John Candy in Brewster's Millions following him around wisecracking and trying to get him super-drunk on robo-booze! 

 It would be a compelling scene - the stoic, pathologically serious Batman tooling around Gotham while gregarious idiot, Swerve: Idol of Millionsâ„¢, He Who Never Stops - or better known by his nickname from the Autobot Academy, 'Shut The Hell Up' - shoots his own face off with his My First Blaster and makes quips about Batman’s rubber nipples. Just think of the japes-potential in this crossover.

Forget the upcoming Batman Vs. Superman - this is the team-up to beat. Which is possibly what Batman would be doing to Swerve by the end of it. Chris

3. I'd love to see Al Swearengen from Deadwood (and, you know, real life history too but I'm mainly interested in the one played by Ian McShane) have to deal with a new business rival setting up another bar and brothel in town - a big eared fuck called Quark. Gareth

4. I'm going to take a slightly different approach to this one, as the only comic I read regularly is xkcd, and I have a feeling that doesn't count. So I'll go cross-theatre instead and pair Hamlet with Hedda Gabler for a moan-off. F1 Kate

5. I really feel like Anne of Greene Gables could teach the Sweet Valley kids to loosen up. Squeamish Louise

Ah physical education. PE. It was always the big divider at school between those who hated it and those who liked it/found it a convenient skive. Usually when PE gets a mention in the news it is regarding the amount of hours dedicated (or not dedicated) to it in the curriculum or how to encourage fitness in our yoof. This time PE is on the agenda because rounders, rounders, has been quietly pulled from the GCSE curriculum by the Department of Education. The Telegraph has declared this a tragedy for those who hate sport and possibly discouragement for girls in PE class. We come up with some activities to replace rounders...

1. When I was 10 I got out of six months of gym by claiming to be pregnant. I got in a lot of trouble when the lie was discovered, but it was worth it. I hated gym. In terms of physical activity, I swear by the holy trinity of walking, dancing, and shagging. That last element may not be practical in a school environment, but if my PE classes had involved, lights, lasers, MDMA, and pounding pounding techno music, I would have been the most cardio-fit student ever. Let's just ignore what my insides would have looked like, shall we?  F1Kate

2. You do not know hell until you have been sent to a sporty school when you are not sporty. My school had numerous gyms and when I left was in the process of building two more. Anything that required co-ordination with a ball and a team I couldn't do. I was in fact banned from tennis so piss-poor was I. And then to add insult to injury I had to have my young lungs assaulted twice a week by clouds of Impulse and So..? (nobody showered at my school.) Of course it is tradition that the last week of term is kind of a write off. In most classes you either do a fun quiz, a little revision session or watch a poor choice of film. In PE what is the fun, celebratory break from the norm? Rounders. Everybody would cheer. Everyone. Even the smokers. Traitors. Rounders is my nightmare. Getting picked last for the team. Not hitting the ball with the TINY stick. Not catching the ball as a fielder (fielders weren't allowed to go far because I guess that would ruin the FUN we were all having). Rounders can burn. What I suggest is hula hooping. And cubicles. Squeamish Kate

3. I will miss rounders as it was an opportunity for me and my best friend Kelly to offer to play field position. Which meant standing far out on the grass and hoping no one managed to hit the ball in our direction. If I could go back I'd have enjoyed playing basketball. We were only allowed to play netball, a truly dumb sport in which when you catch the ball you can't move, you can only turn in a frantic circle like one of your feet is glued to the floor. A poor girl's basketball. Squeamish Nicola

4. Seeing as I used to bunk off PE every week to either get stoned in the nearby woods or head into town and drink, the answer seems to be some sort of mind-altering substance. I'm not sure they really combine with sports though. Maybe they should just have given us all two pills each, set up some strobe lights in the gym, and got a big dancey rave on. That sounds like a responsible way to act if you're in charge of a bunch of teenagers right?Squeamish Louise

According to ELLE magazine (or rather an ELLE writer whom Caitlin Moran fears is dead inside): "Crying is having a bit of a feminist moment. There is an entire female reclamation of tears happening online, where women who have been told for years that to cry in public - especially at work - is to lose all credibility are now flaunting their waterworks." This is the first we have heard about this, other than Tina Fey saying that crying "terrifies everyone" which is not the same as saying crying is feminist. ELLE goes even further to say crying is not just feminist but a POWER MOVE. Is it? We investigate...

1. Crying in public is NOT a power move. I have cried in public many a time. At the cinema, on the tube, in the street. It's all fair game and I don't care who sees me if I'm crying because that's what I gotta do. At work however there was an epidemic of crying due to some work politics and it just brings everyone down. Go to the toilet. It has a lock and if work is stressful or causing you to lock yourself in the bathroom more than someone with a bladder infection you need to talk it out not cry it out. Squeamish Nicola

2. The best power move I know is to jump twice, crouch twice, step to the left, then the right, then left again, then right again, make the sound of a sheep, select a goal and then you are ready to start your day. I find it gives you 30 times more energy than you had before. Gareth

3.  Is crying a power move? I suppose it is if you're a kind of spoilt kid who fake cries to get their own way even though they are far too old to be crying like that. If you are an adult, who is also far too old to be crying like that, who can say? I once burst into tears in a meeting when it was suggested out of the blue I take on my recently resigned manager's responsibilities, with no salary increase. I had already been suckered into that when someone else had quit and the thought of taking on three jobs, all of which I hated, caused hot angry tears to roll down my blotchy cheeks. Whilst I did have the element of surprise here it did not work to my advantage and I handed in my notice the next day. Was it a power move? Well I did exercise my power each time someone from my old office had to call and ask where things like PRINTER INK or STAMPS were. BWAHAHAHAHABOOHOO.Squeamish Kate

4. Hahahahahahahaha no. You want an office power move? I'm afraid it's as simple as increasing your fitness by exercising more, or improving your diet by cutting out crap. The number one office power move is to kick ass at what you do. Suck up to your superiors effectively by never questioning their whacked-out ideas in public. Blitz your performance reviews by doing your job well. Sell yourself as a team player by volunteering to train/mentor newbies. Work hard, don't make waves, and results will come. Dull but effective, I'm afraid. F1Kate

5. I have a horrible feeling that 'is X the new power move' is going to become the new 'is X the new black?' What is a power move anyway? Does crying make you look powerful? Not the way I do it, which tends to involve a blotchy red face and a total inability to control my voice. But if I was doing that sitting in a penthouse on a stack of paper money sadly toying with the controls to the city's power supplies like some sort of super villain then who knows? Let's just redefine power moves as doing whatever we want. Not brushing my hair is my new power move. Snapping at people because I haven't had any coffee or breakfast and it's morning is my new power move. Apologising and buying someone a croissant is my new power move. I can keep this up all day. Squeamish Louise

Ah feminist freedom. We have been freed from glimpses of perky nipples on a beaming young woman who is named (or credited as I like to think, for her nips) in The Sun paper. No more will you sit next to a person admiring such tits on public transport. No more will you be forced to explain breasts to your infant child. No more will you have to concern yourself over the agency of women in their late teens and early twenties. For, dear reader, Page 3 is kaphut. Well kind of. Look you are still going to have to look at women in undies or revealing outfits on Page 3, but you had to look at that on all the rest of the pages already. It's still totes a victory. I just don't know whose victory. Perhaps it's a step in the right direction, if what we hope to achieve for our children is prudery and repulsion over women's naked bodies. 

Of course those who run the No More Page 3 campaign don't want everyone to be repulsed by the womanly form. Or I assume they don't. However it is problematic for various reasons. One is that it has been seen as classist, something that I am not going to touch on today. Another is that it is complicated when a feminist campaign focuses on stopping women from doing something they choose to do. 

Do we want freedom from having to know some women pose topless or do we want freedom to pose topless without judgement?  

It risks belittling women, it certainly reduces their choices when it comes to making money - on Twitter today a glamour model has stated that it was the first job she could fit around her disability. There's also the problem that it ends up also objectifying women because it is branding a certain type of bodily autonomy unacceptable. 

As Sara Pascoe suggests in her stand up routine, and I have said before what we need is more nudity. More nudity means more diversity in nudity. Like great big pendulous breasts sir? Do not be ashamed, for it is great big pendulous breast Wednesday only in The Sun! Feel a bit weird that looking at baps belonging to someone young enough to be your daughter? Worry not for we have nude women of all ages! Believe that fat is fabulous - fantastic, look at these beauties! Not keen on white girls with long blonde hair? That's fine son! Look over there for a wide variety of nude women, all of whom are acceptable to all!

And of course if there was more nudity it would be harder to announce that not one of these naked women knew what they were doing. Or query their education. Or dismiss them as oppressed. There would not be enough Lib Dem MPs to speak for each naked woman to put the words they meant in their mouths. The Daily Mail would struggle to criticise unflattering fashion choices or circle shameful sweat patches if all celebrities hung out nude (sure LA has the climate). 

It is not that I admire Murdoch's enterprising ways with breast photography. It is not that I will yearn for the days of Page 3 (which may return if sales dip apparently). It is that I am pro women. All women. And when it comes to The Sun...one page down, more to go. 

Squeamish Kate

Pub bore with no pub to go to Nigel Farage is to go head to head with Al Murray's pub landlord in Thanet where he is standing for election with the Free United Kingdom party. The pub landlord said: "It seems to me that the UK is ready for a bloke waving a pint around, offering common sense solutions." UKIP responded:  "At last, serious competition in the constituency." While unlike the BBC we think there is such a thing as 'too much Farage coverage' we do have some ideas about who we would like to see him debate...

1. My first reaction was that as he always reminds me of a carp I would like to see him debate one. Underwater. But I think it would be better for everyone if Farage had to debate, sensibly, calmly and at length, any one of the hard working immigrants in this country. I could recommend several I live and work with  - a Bulgarian architect; a Swiss marketing manager; a Belgian helpline operator; a German secretary to the head of UKIP... Squeamish Louise

2. I'm going to treat this 'Who would I like to see Nigel Farage up against in a debate?' the same way I treat the 'Who would you have, past or present, at your ultimate dinner party?' I would summon the dead to battle Farage with an apocalyptic political rhetoric that had never before fallen on the ears on the living. Maybe every immigrant ever to grace the shores of the UK would rise from the grave to give him a piece of their mind. I understand this scenario is rather indulgent and I would expect it to end in a horror movie style where Farage gets sucked into a vortex that appears in his bottom and the a sucks him into oblivion. Squeamish Nicola

3. Is it inappropriate to say I'd like to see him debate a firing squad? Or a cruise missile? Or a T-Rex with PMT and anger management issues? I think you see where I'm going with this... F1Kate

4. Who would I like to see Farage up against in a debate? I don't know. I think the most annoying thing about the man is that he never seems ruffled (apart from the time he was in that plane crash). This is perhaps something to do with the ever present pint in his hand. This is a man who enjoys a laugh. So let's put him up against a comedian. I'd like to see Farage debate Stewart Lee. Squeamish Kate

After decades of willowy white teens modelling clothing and accessories the average 18 year old can ill afford there seems to have been a small shift in fashion advertising. Now the octogenarian Joan Didion can be seen posing (or...just sitting) in sunglasses for the fashion label Celine and now at 71 years old Joni Mitchell has been revealed as the face of Yves Saint Laurent Music Project campaign. The choice of both models make sense. Didion can most likely afford and definitely suit a Celine outfit. Joni Mitchell makes music. The signing of these women causes a suitably flattering ruckus because they are old but also chic and therefore we are allowed to aspire to them. How good of these companies to employ not just older, but old women, aren't they brave? Now as women we know that we can get old. Thanks for the permission. 

Now it truly is great that within days of each other two big advertising campaigns have used old women as models. Whatever you may think of advertising, the fashion industry or Big Yellow Taxi the two campaigns are important for the visibility of older women in a way that M&S isn't. It is, ultimately, an endorsement. Not of Celine or YSL but of ageing women.

For those who are white, financially stable and slim a small battle has been won for you. This is good. But rather like eccentricity is only for rich people, age might be reserved for white influential people. So it's good for someone like me who is cis, middle class and white but what does it mean for other women? What are their options when they look to advertising?

Who knew taxes remained a certainty after death and that some of our most famous women seemingly have to carry on working long after their script reading capabilities ceased and their punctuality waned. 

In spite of death making stars...hm...differently abled it also makes them the ultimate fashion icon. Ageless, they say what you want them to say and they will never go off message. Unless they have a troublesome family who question the morality of reanimating their dead relative to sell chocolate or perfume that in life they never mentioned. 

Which is where the importance of using older women comes back in. While a dead woman or young woman are thought of as more attractive to use because they are perhaps more malleable and more likely to have active Instagram and Twitter accounts (yes) an older woman is a risk not just because we worship youth but because this creates a presence for older women who speak out and don't take shit. And that includes the myth they can only buy clothes from M&S. 

Squeamish Kate

It's 2015! We are probably now beyond the time you can say "Happy New Year!" but after the first week back at work we are still having trouble adjusting to the cold light of plain old winter with no Christmas or New Year to look forward to. Taking down the lights, folding away Christmas jumpers, no longer having giant meals accompanied by crackers and chocolate coins ceasing to be legal tender, it's that dull time of year when you have nothing to do but readjust to everyday life and wait for Spring. The odd pang of memory and sadness should you find a Quality Street sweetie squirrelled away in your coat pocket. Life seems bleak. So what are our tips for adjusting to 2015...

1. The best way to adjust to real life after Christmas is to ease yourself out of the festivities slooooowly. No cold turkey for you but a yes to discounted snowman shaped chocolate treats (once 50p now 12p!) and get one Rudolph adorned  Twiglets tubs. You'll be putting those out on the coffee table next time you have company. Last but not least embrace the presents! Start the knitting pattern you got from Aunt Liz and wear all the jewellery you got at once! It's not over yet! Squeamish Nicola

2. I didn't take any time off work apart from the bank holidays so you'd think it would have been less of a shock to the system going back to 'normal' this week. Not so. I didn't realise how used I had become to the relatively quiet public transport, deserted offices and expectation that everything stops at 5pm so we can all get back to the important business of shovelling mince pies and mulled wine down our gullets. Suddenly I'm surrounded by noisy, driven people on health kicks. There's only one way to deal with this and it is to resolutely pretend it is still December. I am cheerfully telling anyone who asks that I am going to make and start my resolutions in February because I need to spend January readjusting and preparing by drinking all the leftover booze and eating up all the cheese. Look outside - it's miserable. This is no time of year to be denying yourself anything. Have another cake and put the TV back on. Squeamish Louise

3. How do I deal with the end of a holiday I can't stand? Easy - I breathe a sigh of relief, pack a small bag, and head off to Amsterdam to celebrate my birthday. Tradition. F1Kate

 4. I actually quite like the whole idea of new starts and out with the old in with the new. Yes I am a sucker for that - I blame all those teen films and books in which a student returns to school after a long hot summer completely changed and suddenly loved. I love Christmas but often suffer from Christmas fatigue so hoovering away the pine sheddings and replacing season earworms with classic Smiths songs is pleasant. What I can't deal with is the jolt back to early starts. If you can't deal with no Christmas to look forward to I suggest you set your sights on the fast approaching Valentine's day, which I am already receiving press releases about. Squeamish Kate

2014 seems to have been the year of celebrities saying they were feminists and feminists saying they couldn't be because they had been seen in public wearing pants. Spangly pants. 2015 is shaping up to be the year celebrities say they aren't feminists, sorry not sorry and feminists comment that they bloody should be and to apologise for this lack of desire to join a seemingly unwelcoming movement. While Beyonce, who spent last year discussing her feminism, equal pay and featured a Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie quote about women in her single Flawless before standing in front of a screen that said FEMINIST in giant letters on the MTV Awards has earned reams of features explaining why she can't be feminist. Meanwhile in a recent interview Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting was asked if she was a feminist and when she answered "Is it bad if I say no?" received a shocked and disappointed response from feminists and commentators. 

Apparently feminism needs a woman who portrays an occasionally air-headed blonde on a TV show but it doesn't need prominent multi-millionaire women of colour. Cuoco-Sweeting's role of Penny on The Big Bang Theory in which she is regularly flummoxed by or dismissive of scientific knowledge does not negate her own potential relationship with feminism but apparently Beyonce's penchant for posing in sexy stage outfits does. 

Now, let me be clear. Of course Cuoco-Sweeting could be a feminist if she wanted. Her character on the hit TV show is also welcome to the pack (although her fictional status makes the practicality of this challenging) with her liberal views on women's sexuality and lack of shame over her sex life she shares plenty of feminist opinions. But it seems strange how feminism appears to think it can say 'we want you - we don't want you' when the main message of the movement is that there is space for us all, female, queer, male etc. 

We must assume that those who say it is not something they know much about - Cuoco-Sweeting told RedBook that feminism was "not really something I think about." are not anti-feminists so much as simply ill-informed, which is hardly a crime even if sometimes it feels like it should be. 

Since the publication of the interview Cuoco-Sweeting has said her comments were taken out of context, though it seems unlikely as she has not said she is a feminist after all. It seems sad we are forcing a woman to apologise for a stance we disagree with particularly as it means nothing. We're just joining the march to make women constantly apologetic and unsure. 

Considering Cuoco-Sweeting followed that statement with: "Things are different now, and I know a lot of the work that paved the way for women happened before I was around...I was never that feminist girl demanding equality, but maybe that's because I've never really faced inequality." demonstrates that we simply aren't being clear enough about the continued struggle and that it is everyone's struggle whether or not you encounter sexism, if the person next to you is then you have to fight it and the reason you might feel you don't have a fight is feminism. 

Squeamish Kate

Everybody is supposed to be having a huge amount of fun right now because it's Christmas. It's all sparkly this and spiced that and eggnog-flavoured-what-now? Are you excited? About Christmas? We hope so. Although it's not healthy to build your expectations too high so we are going to go all Grinchy on you and share times when Christmas has been ruined for us. Tales of the Santa myth being crushed, falling foul of alcohol, yuletide stomach bugs and party present shortages start here, what ruined Christmas for you?  

1. I vividly remember how I found out Santa isn't real.  it was all Sue Townsend's fault.  Our family always kept books in the loo and one of these was The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole. Adrian was shocked to discover his parents were Santa and so was I when I picked it up to read as an overly curious six year old. The scales fell... But at least I got to join in the lies to my younger brother. Squeamish Louise

2. Christmas stole my birthday. Being born in Christmas week is pants. When you're a kid, family obligations override birthday party invites, and when you're older no one has the money or energy for an extra night out between Christmas and NYE. And that's without even going into cheapskates trying to palm you off with combined presents. I hate Christmas.F1 Kate

3. 'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house [flat] not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; then I woke up and vomited. I continued to vomit until Boxing day. Meaning I missed Christmas dinner, totally harshed on my family's buzz and my general sense of Christmas cheer went down the toilet. Squeamish Kate

4. The worst Christmas I ever had was at the age of 14. We went to friends of my parents while the dinner was cooking. These friends were utter alcoholics and there were open bottles of booze everywhere. Naturally as a teenager I took advantage of this and I proceeded to get utterly plastered. So plastered that I missed Christmas dinner as I was passed out on the floor of our bathroom. I have a vague memory of my dad screaming at me, but that's pretty much it until the evening. My gran was told I'd eaten too many chocolates and had to have a lie down. They didn't even leave me any leftovers! I missed out on Christmas dinner entirely that year.Gareth

5. Christmas for me was ruined when I went to my friend's school's Christmas party, I was six. As you can imagine apart from the dancing and fizzy pop the main attraction was Father Christmas was coming right at the very end to hand out presents. I was very, VERY excited to be meeting him, like One-Direction-fan-Harry-loving excited. I was quite small and ended up at the back of the queue for Father Christmas. I waited patiently and excitedly and slowly the children ran off with their presents. Suddenly I was standing in front of the man himself. He looked down at me and then looked into the red sack. Then he looked at me and said "I don't have any more presents". He may as well have crushed my little heart with his white-gloved fist. I smiled through the pain,I walked away and my friend's mum asked where my present was. When I explained she was furious and then dragged me back to Father Christmas and began having an argument with him. Father Christmas argued back. I stood teary eyed, my hopes and dreams SHATTERED! Squeamish Nicola

So the nicest thing about a cold Christmassy winter is this nostalgic image: the foggy haze of out of focus multi-coloured fairy lights strewn over a synthetic evergreen. The only way to achieve this blissful and blurred scene is to indulge in some liquid Christmas cheer - mulled wine! I equate the long success of my Christmas spirit with the amount of warming wine I have consumed. Sadly I am only on my first mulled wine of the season but at £4.95 a glass who can blame me? It's time to get myself mulling (and my liver), please do join me!

Classic Mulled Wine: Victorian Vintage

This is a case of the more the merrier. Think Victorian living rooms with burgundy flock wallpaper patterns and more chintz and china than you can shake a candelabra at, put EVERYTHING in this concoction. Clove up that orange with any delightful pattern your mind can imagine! The more cinnamon the better! Also I have a sweet tooth so I suggest you sugarplum fairy this bad boy up as much as possible.

Cloves - as many as you can sink an orange with or to taste.

One orange - to skim the zest off a bit

Do you like ginger? Add some root ginger too!

4 cinnamon sticks

115g sugar

Pop ingredients in to a pan with two glasses of water (maybe not your cloved orange - just cloves and zest for now, add the big decorated orange when serving to totally wowed guests). Stir on a very low heat for 20 minutes until you have a syrup. Once that's done add red wine and mix it through, it should be nice and warm for serving. Fun mulling fact - the cloved orange is actually called a pomander and has an interesting history not only related to Victorians but ladies not wanting to smell bad, faaaascinating!  

I'd make it one third brandy to your two parts wine but add as much or as little as you like. Port is also an option. Possibly may induce the on-set of gout...

Mulled Devine: Christmas Cider/Apple Juice

Litre of cider or apple juice

2 cinnamon sticks

2 orange peels (why not peel them so they look like a long spiral!?)

Sweeten to taste with sugar, honey or your animal friendly alternative 

So it's cold outside and you need warming, even with the heating on, you may be externally warmed but somehow it's not quite doing the trick. A hot percentage-fulled drink maybe? Well, just because it's a chilly Christmas doesn't mean you need to be on a boozy bender until 1st January. Give you liver and your non-drinking friends a break from your Christmas tipple overload and have some cosy Christmassy mulled apple juice instead! It's also quite good if you have kids who want to be involved in the Christmas activities usually only open to their rosy cheeked parents.

Just bung all the ingredients in a pot and heat through for 5 to 10 minutes. There is (like so many things in life) an alcoholic alternative. Just substitute the wholesome apple juice for its bad boy cousin cider and you're back on the ground, a face full of dust and the wagon disappearing into the distance without you.

Whatever you decide to drink this Christmas make sure you drink the purest and satisfying of drinks as a chaser. A pint of water goes a long way and will stop you from making the New Year's Resolution "I shall NEVER drink again!" Merry Christmas everyone - enjoy the festivities!

Squeamish Nicola