Harvester of Eyes

Yes, another song title, and no I won't say who it's by
     Television, that's what it means.  Conrad was asked earlier today if he watched "Strictly Come Dancing".  After recoiling in horror and wielding a silver crucifix, I confirmed that I had never seen the programme, doubted that it really existed and considered it to be a giant joke on Conrad specifically.
     I was assured it really, truly existed.  Damn.  Real world I hate you.  Why view it?  "Because it's watchable rubbish," replied Alex.
     That about sums it up.  Hmm - no. Sums it down.

Now that's what I call watchable rubbish!  Boom boom.

Eeriness actualised
     On the third floor of my still-coyly secret employer, given that there are about a hundred and fifty staff, all busy talking to each other, answering phones, making phone calls, brewing-up in the kitchen, walking around, bashing the table (okay that was me), sorting out the stationery room, opening and closing lockers and doors and cupboards - it's a noisy babbling earstormer of a place.
     Until 11:00 today.  The bell rang and utter silence descended.  No noise, no movement.  Peeking out of the window, I could see even the workmen on the building site opposite were standing still and silent.
     Conrad has a cold hard flinty heart, but it did get it's strings tugged a little today.
     If you will permit, and as best as I recall, a stanza in remembrance:

     "They shall not grow old,
      As we who are left grow old.
      Age shall not weary them,
      Nor the years condemn.
      But at the setting of the sun,
      And in the morning,
      We shall remember them."

Harvester, you can have their eyes!
     Alex, the self-same source of that great quote above, asked what Conrad did if he didn't watch television?  Well, besides reporting back to my invasion fleet (currently having a rest-stop around Alpha Centauri), I read, write, play wargames, compose my blog, wibble on Facebook and bake.  That seemed to satisfy her curiosity, for the meantime.  I left out the stuff about land-travelling sharks, giant moles and denizens of the mansion's dungeons - she might not believe me.

Excellent when barbecued but you need a big grill (as it weighs over a ton)

Oh dear.  Once again the day has worn on and I've not even begun my plans for world domination - there was some fresh fruit to peel and chop and I needed to test the Wobbly Apricot Tart and make lunch for tomorrow.

Fact.  All aspiring world dictators begin like this.

It isn't easy to see unless you look realllllly closely, but those are English Civil War figures.  What I plan to do is start in the 17th century and work forward (I work slowly) so that by the time that invasion fleet arrives, I'll be up to the present day - and you'll all be doomed*!

Righto, off to give those wretched Cavaliers a thrashing that they richly deserve!



* Readers of BOOJUM! will, of course, be exempt from any alien overlordship (though we may riffle through your CD and DVD collections) so tell all your friends.