Let us pause for a moment and pay homage to one of American comic's unsung heroes, Robert Crumb, and his creation "Mr. Natural". Who tends to go on about things, rather. So you may indeed say that he rambles.
He normally tends to wear a long robe, but on occasion has been known to go "au naturelle" as in below - don't worry, all very tasteful and all you see is beard -
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| This is BOOJUM! after all. No full frontals |
Oh - wait a minute - did you think I meant that chap in the news? Oops - sorry!
Toxic To Voles
Forgive an old man's obsession. I have another verse for the song "Toxic To Voles" by The Skreeming Voles, their signature song and a favourite around the YMCA hall in Hampton Dibney during the summer of '79:
Lethal to lemmings! lethal to lemmings!
We hate posh British actors -
Like you, David Hemmings!
Lethal to lemmings! Lethal to lemmings!
Well there you go, social protest and cruelty to animals in one compact package. Vocalist Tarquin ffrench-Hughes Hallet, who went under the stage name "Pocksy Afflicted", said that his father (the Right Reverend Hugh ffrench-Hughes Hallett) was a staunch member of the RSPCA* and stopped his allowance when the LP "High Voleacity" came out.
| Watch it, Pocksy - Mr Hemming is armed |
It's a Scottish surname, and Conrad was curious about it because - well, in recent days we've had "lammergeyer" and "lambast", so what does this mean?
Firstly, it's compound name. "Lammer" comes from the French "L'ambre", corrupted over time. Yes, French. The French and Scots used to get together every so often and pick on their common enemy, the English. "Moor" means "moor", i.e. an open stretch of heathland.
Amber moorland. That's a bit dull, I expected a bit of blood at least.
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| Too true it's dull! Have a picture of a nuclear bazooka. Range = 500 metres. Blast radius = 600 metres |
Ah yes the Metro. Conrad has not turned his beady, heedy, greedy eye upon this publication for a few days now, meaning it's circulation has probably risen.
Enough! What do we have here? Someone French attacking the English - my how some behaviour is consistent over the centuries! - at which Conrad spots Mister Hand with a bamboo skewer and moves hastily away from current affairs, and onto -
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| Agincourt. Back when the English (and the Welsh) were not such terrific chums with the French as they are now. |
Two articles about him in the paper today, after another one in yesterday's! What's going on? Is there a lack of things going on in the world? How hard are his agent and publicist shovelling stuff at the media*?
Let Conrad put forth his Shark Theory On Talent-Free Celebrities.
The shark, you see, lacks a swim bladder. If it stops swimming, it will die. To live it has to constantly swim.
So it is with the preponderance of these (frequently single-name) celebrities. They have to be constantly in the spotlight or, lacking any real ability, they will die***. Thus they employ a flock of lesser parasites - publicists, agents, managers, promoters - that parallel the remora you see sucking up to sharks.
Of course, this gives me another excuse to have a picture of the Weasel Shark along:
| Quite shark-y looking, rather less so of the weasel about it. |
Ah, now the Metro partially redeems itself, posting an interview with Mike Leigh.
What do you mean, who's he! The exit door is THAT WAY!
Mike Leigh, I'll have you know, is a British film director, who makes excellent idiosyncratic British films - his latest is "Mr Turner" about the painter.
Your homework for tomorrow is to go away and check up on Mike over at IMDB.
There will be a test.
| Vivien Leigh. Close enough |
Okay, that's enough of the Metro. Let us move on to -
SSE Energy
You'll have seen the posters for this energy company, boasting about prices or somesuch drivel^, up on hoardings and perhaps on that television device installed as a novelty in several homes across Greater Manchester.
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I hate to undermine the image here, but Bearsden is not Borneo.
Conrad actually much prefers the sombre, deadpan, gentle and wise orang-utang to the hideous chimpanzee. 2000 AD also like orang-utangs, viz:
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| Dave the Orang-Utang, Mayor of Mega-City One! (It's a long story) |
Ah, you can never go wrong with cute baby animals (except the wyvern) so here you go with bit more orang-utang:
| Second later, it ate the photographer. |
* The Royal Society For The Prevention Of Cruelty To Animals. This noble country's inspiration for the ASPCA.
** At a rate of some 160 m.p.h. (masses of publicity hackness)
*** Only metaphorically, but Conrad can dream, can't he?
^ Conrad has not, apparently, paid enough attention to these posters.
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