No Cake For You!

Because You Were Bad!
     No, dear reader, I am not traducing you.  I mean my work colleagues, who will not be getting a cake tomorrow, as I will not be in work tomorrow.  Not with them, anyway.  They might not have been bad, either, but you know I have to practice at being horrid, it doesn't come naturally.
     What's that you say?  The Monkey Bread I baked last night? 

No Monkeys were harmed in the making of this cake.

Ah, but they don't know I baked it!  I only put a few photos on an obscure website called "Facbok", nobody'll ever catch on.

Pub Quiz Tonight
     I have been doing mostly logic puzzles in my spare time this week, instead of swotting up on tabloid tat or vapid celebrity pap.  Fortunately for us, my darling daughter will be on-strength tonight, so our score for the picture round may reach double figures*.  Must also remember - if taking food away from pub, sign disclaimer.  It's not really needed in my case, but human beings are known to have sensitive stomachs.

To you, lethal toxins.  To Conrad, milkshake flavourings!

Just FYI, Not FYR**
     It is possible to render yourself immune to poisons.  Not that you would ever do so, unless you have an especially dog-eat-dog work environment or your children think you are a practitioner of the black arts, but it is possible.
     How?  Well you start off with a very, very dilute solution of the poison or poisons you wish to be protected from.  You consume this until you stop frothing at the mouth and spasming uncontrollably, then increate the concentration.  Done gradually - the only way, because if you get it wrong - done gradually, you build up a toleration and can consequently quaff foaming tankards of deadly poison that would finish off whole busloads of people.  Mithridates VI of antiquity used this method to prevent assassination by poison.  Didn't stop him being skewered upon a sword, mind ...


So - Tanks?

This might be the front.  Or the back.

Yes, meet the Martel One-Man Tank.  Just as there are one-man women, so there are one-man tanks, and this is one.  Built in Mr Martel's garage, this pant-wetting terror on tracks was intended to be operated by one man, who also had to operate (the apparently virtual) weapon, and was intended to swamp enemy defences by sheer overwhelming force of numbers.  Since only 12 were built, the War Office's idea of "sheer overwhelming force of numbers" is obviously different from yours and mine.

* This would be impressive indeed, as there are only 10 questions
** For Your Replay