Traffic jams! The man who invented them ought to be shot, hung, beaten with a nail-studded baseball bat, boiled, oiled, broiled, soiled - can't think of any more threats ending in "-oiled" - shanked, spanked, planked, bitten, smitten, mauled by a kitten and pecked by a bittern. Would the culprit be Hermes?
Obviously I've done something to peeve him and today he decided to get a bit of the old divine retribution in.
I drove out of our side road, onto the hilly heights of Rochdale Road, and what did I espy below? A hundred yards from our house a traffic-treacle* stretching, unmoving, all the way to the centre of Royton.
Conrad has walked that distance many a time. It's a mile. Ergo, a mile of stationary traffic.
Turning round, I beetled off into Rochdale, thinking "I'll go in a big loop and then come off the slip road at Elk Mill. Heh!"
Hermes had second-guessed me there. A huge queue of traffic had formed on the slip road, and the matrix signs displayed the message "Ha! Hermes - 1 Conrad - 0". So I continued onto Broadway, which was a mistake, because Hermes got me there, too. A crash outside the 6th Form College had backed traffic up for a mile, crawling past the obstruction.
After that there was no bother, and with a song on my lips I - no actually I cannot sing, I was listening to William Orbit, to soothe my savage temper - I came to the end of Broadway.
"Surprise!" crowed Hermes. Another traffic jam, where normally there is none.
"Here is my middle finger, Hermes!" I responded, calling in work to warn them I'd be a little late (having set off earlier than needed. "Hot stuff on travel and cars, but not well-schooled in digital communications technology, are you!"
He frowned deeply. Hmmm. I may have gloated a bit too much there. We shall see what tomorrow brings, eh?
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| Hermes. A big fan of Paul McCartney and ... |
You will have seen occasional photos of Conrad, louring darkly at the camera with his evil little eyes, sporting a moustache.
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| The eyebrows almost as evil as the tash |
This hirsute appendage didn't exist until Movember 2012. After growing it, people forgot it never existed prior to 31/10/2012, and would be hideously surprised were it to be shaved off. I was reminded of this by bumping into my old boss Michelle, who has been off on maternity leave for a year and who wants to come back as work is easier than two small children. She passed comment on the tash. Very "Conrad the Cashiered Colonel", I feel. Tomorrow I plan to wax the ends, then I can tweak them like a Victorian vaudeville villain**.
Things To Come
The 1936 fillum, not - NOT! - that 1979 travesty.
I still have 15 minutes to watch, which is enough to pintificate*** about what I've already seen.
Set in "Everytown", what they mean is "London". After a short prelude, the unidentified enemy begins a bombing raid on Everytown, with gas bombs.
I fear the authorities ruling Everytown's realm are a tad slow on the uptake. They only start to distribute gas-masks seconds before the raid begins. The whole town is lit up like a Christmas tree, so the enemy bombers can see it from fifty miles away.
Later on we witness John Cabal, our intrepid, impeccably-spoken hero, shooting down an enemy bomber, then seeing to the fatally injured pilot at his wrecked plane. Which pilot seems to have a French accent ...
All this aside, it's a fascinating film, what 1936 thought the future might look like, and I would think one of the earlier post-apocalyptic cinematic depictions. There are omissions that seem strange to us now - the 1970s aircraft are all turbine-driven propeller powered, not a single jet to be seen. No rockets or missiles. No nuclear weapons (or it would be a short film!). Lavish use of gas, which has in reality been rare since 1918. No satellites, of course.
Then there is the supposedly benevolent organisation "Wings Across The World", which insists on
<Mr Hand intervenes to point out that Brian Aldiss probably puts this across better in his interview amongst the extras>
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| Our Hero, John Cabal, with a - with - er - . I give up. Answers on a postcard - |
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| World's biggest man humbles African bull elephant |
** You may never see more "v" alliteratives in one place again
*** "Pintificate" - not to be confused with "pontificate". Pintificate is holding-forth with a beer in your hand.
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