Say Something In Latvian!

Or - Pateikt Kaut Ko Latviesu Valoda!
     Our resident Latvian refuses to say anything in Latvian, claiming that it isn't a sufficiently beautiful language.  Not sure her argument holds water as here we are conversing in English, which cannot be called beautiful, innit?
     Never mind.  One day - one day Ms. S. will speak Latvian.  Probably something along the lines of "Yes, officer, that is the man, he followed me here -"

"I didn't follow her, I came for the architecture.  Honest."

That's Quite Enough Of That!
     And by that I mean naked bus.  Bus without poster.  Unseemly bus that fails to delight the eye and involve the mind.  Bus in dereliction of duty to inspire Conrad, who is both idle and habit-bound and who now expects buses with posters to furnish him with witticisms for the Blog.

Disgracefully underclad!*

This visual interregnum took place whilst walking alongside Darling Daughter on our way into Manchester.  I commented on the lack of poster and how altogether unseemly it was, since it would not generate an humourous post, and was told some people might not find it funny.
     "Humour, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder," quoth I.
     "You can't have humour in your eyes,' riposted DD, who likes the last word in any 1) Argument 2) Conversation or 3) Both.
     "Aha!  But you can!" counter-riposted Conrad, remembering O-level Biology.  "Aqueous humour."
     This puzzled DD for a minute until Conrad explained further.
     "It's the squidgy jelly-like stuff in your eyeball.  You know, "Out, out, vile jelly!" in Shakespeare (King Lear)where they squeeze a chap's eyeballs till they <Mr Hand intervenes to prevent any feelings of nausea arising>"
     I do hope this stream-of-consciousness stuff doesn't leave you puzzled, dear reader.

"Stop whining, human!  You're making Much Ado About Nothing!"

Tea!  Indian Or Chinese, It's Still Oh-So British
     Conrad - thanking the muses for a double dose of bus-powered inspiration - saw another poster on a bus rear** featuring Typhoo.
     Now, Typhoo is part of the British cultural landscape and has been for over a century.  This hide-in-plain-sight factor has blinded everyone except Conrad to the real question about Typhoo:  where the hell does the name come from?
     No!  It's not derived from a Typhoon.  As Darling Daughter observed, "Who would buy a tea called "Typhoon"?"
     A quick resort to Google-fu revealed that the name derives from Chinese, the word for doctor pronounced "Dai-Fu".
     BOOJUM!  Admit it - the world would be a duller place without it.

As it would be without small children inhaling lit candles

The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread
     A phrase that Conrad was curious about.  Let us presume that this phrase refers to loaves sliced by machine, since otherwise we could refer back to 15,621 B.C. when Mister Gupta living on the Deccan plateau hacked his bun apart with a flint knife.  
     So.  It appears that sliced bread became an actual concrete thing in 1928.  You could buy sliced bread wrapped in paper.
     Wow.   1928.  Was 1928 a slow year for news?  What else happened?  Oh yes, John Logie Baird demonstrated television.  Sellotape was invented.  600 die in California when a dam breaks.  The fathometer is invented.  Madam Tussauds opens in London.  Women's rights in Fascist Italy are eliminated.  Mickey Mouse first appears.  Fritz Von Opel's rocket-car hits 200 m.p.h. Amelia Earhart flies the Atlantic - etcetera, etcetera
     Why, obviously - obviously! - nothing else in 1928 can compare with having a machine slice your loaf for you!

Regard the dull and boring 200 mph winged-rocket car.  Dahling, it's so passe compared to thin-sliced bloomer!

Finally
     Time is a-getting on so I'm going to cheat and use a Facebook photo of our resident furry fireball:

Not sure why she's on a stool.  Perhaps to keep her still?

*  Do NOT Google "naked bus"!  I'm just telling you.  Do not.  Especially at work.
** What is the official term?  What is it? Tell me!  Tell me!