Pub-a-dub-dub

Trying to Tolerate Tabloid Tat
     There are always some vapid "celebrity" pictures in our pub quiz, but Conrad does not lower himself to trawl the bottom-feeder news sites that feature banner headlines about single-name persons he cares nothing about.  No, instead he brings along Darling Daughter Sally for that, since she is worryingly familiar with the biographies and photos of these peripatetic pond-scum.

Darling Daughter Sally.  In winter plumage, since you ask.

Chips
     Or "fries", for any of our Trans-Atlantic apple-pie fiends.  We here in the UK call them "chips" after "chipped potatoes", which is more accurate tonight because I made sweet potato chips.  There were a couple of the tubers waiting to be used up, but when you make chips they get coated in oil and baked in the oven.  Thus not fries.

Before

They have the texture of a carrot rather than the good old King Edward* so slicing them up takes a bit of practice.  After half an hour in the oven -

After

There is no third picture since they went in minutes, despite Wonder Wife deciding that she couldn't manage many - Darling Daughter's fingers moved too fast to be seen.

Th-th-that's all, folks!
     As I said, we are off to sample some bitter and try to win without Googling.  Fortunately the scones got made last night, and tonight I got some squirty cream and extra butter to go with them - we already had strawberry jam.

So - Tanks?
     Oh go on, then

Come back Sigmund Freud, all is forgiven ...

This is a Sturmtiger, a giant naval rocket launcher fitted into a tank chassis.  Looks more like an article from Warhammer, to be honest.

Now, I really must be off!