Death Visits The Mansion

Yes, Thought That Would Get Your Attention!
As you no doubt recall, yesterday Conrad was banging on about The Grim Reaper and all sorts of issues not normally addressed about the Incarnation Of Death.  If - IF! - you didn't read it or the details remain at the hazy horizon of your memory, the link:

http://comsatangel2002.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/the-septic-sardine-of-michael-mckean.html

     I trust you will visit and check it out, because I have your ISP details right here ...
     Well, earlier this evening there was a knock at the front door.  Normally it would be impossible for any casual visitor to make their way across the minefields, the motion-triggered machine-guns, the barbed wire and beartraps, and the Guard Hog.
     This particular visitor could hardly be called "normal" as he stood seven feet tall, wore a black cape and clutched an equally long bladed implement, and was escorted by a very humble-looking Guard Hog.

(See interview for in-joke)

     Naturally I thought my time on Planet Earth was measured in seconds, but the figure waved one boney hand in a negative gesture.
     'I'm not here for you tonight.  I read your post yesterday and thought you might like to interview me.'
     I think that's what he said, I was a mite distracted.
     'You should have seen your face!' he laughed, which I thought a bit unkind.  Also, he had a Newcastle accent.  'How about it?'
     'Okay,' I agreed.  How could I refuse?
     'The accent,' he explained.  'I speak mostly English now that the South Canadians run a lot of the world.  Back when I started it was French and Latin.  You could get by on Latin alone, in a pinch.'
     'And the Newkie accent?'
     'It pulls the birds,' he blithely said, but he may have been joking and I wasn't going to challenge him*.

The Grim Reaper Diet Plan!

The Interview
Conrad:  Er - well, Mister Reaper -
The Grim Reaper:  Albert, please.
Conrad: Oh.  Albert.  Albert.
Albert (suspiciously): What?
Conrad:  I just didn't imagine a down-to-earth name like that.
Albert:  Don't be a pillock, it's a splendid name, nothing wrong with it.  Now, if I'd said "Wilhemina", then you'd have a point.
Conrad: Quite!  So, how come you got the job - being the manifestation of Death?
Albert:  Oh, I put the word around that I was on the market and about seven hundred years ago I got the gig.  Vellum contract, squid ink, wax seal, the lot.
Conrad:  A contract?  I see.  Is that why (indicates scythe) -
Albert: Right.  It's a bloody nuisance at times.  I've lost count of the number of times I've cut meself with it.  You'd think I'd be allowed a Barrett Light Fifty or an SA80, but no - the contract says "Seven foot scythe".
Conrad: Does the contract specify black clothing as well?
Albert (ruefully): Too true!  I've got to "differentiate" so I don't get confused with Old Father Time.  I did suggest perhaps cerise with a paisley trim and got laughed out of court for it.
Conrad: What kind of workload do you have?
Albert:  A ruddy crushing one!  Do you mind if I spark one up?
Conrad (puzzled): What?
Albert:  A tab.  A fag.  A cigarette.
Conrad (frowning): I don't smoke and I don't want to inhale your secondary smoke.  Hey!
Albert (lights cigarette): Don't be such a pansy.  You don't die until the Great Robot Rebellion of 2087; I won't say how but it's not from secondary smoking, chum.
Conrad:  Really?  Wow!  2087, eh?  Don't you know how bad smoking is for you?
Albert:  So?  Do you think I'm going to visit myself?
Conrad:  You have a point.
Albert:  You mentioned the workload.  When I started it was a doddle, there were so few people around.  Now there's seven billion of you lot - well, humans, anyway, and I get no rest.  None!  This interview is going to mean working overtime to make up the shortfall.  Plus, when the Europeans start fighting amongst themselves I have to subcontract.
Conrad:  Are there any other downsides to being the Face of Death?
Albert: No social life.  Let's face it, who'd bring me to a party or a wedding?  There is this Indian bird, Kali, if I get a bit of time off in a century or so I might see if she's interested. Conrad:  Really, these are issues nobody ever raises about you, Gr - Albert.  Very profound.  Very thought-provoking.
Albert: Why thank you Conrad!  You know, I might give you a reprieve in 2087.  Not promising anything, mind.
Conrad: Oh, another thing - what do you think of the media's portrayal of you?
Albert (crossly): Some people are just taking the p - oh, whoops, sorry, forgot the No Swearing policy!  Some people are taking the mickey.  William Sadler in that Bill and Ted film.  I've got my eye on him.  He'll get a real showstopper, he will (mutters).  Although I love that cartoon "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy" - hilarious!
Conrad:  And Ingmar Bergman with "The Seventh Seal"?
Albert: That's an awesome film.  I did try to argue his case with The Authorities but they wouldn't let him go beyond 89.  Sorry, Ing.
Conrad: Where do you see yourself in ten thousand years time?
Albert: Same old same old!  Should be grateful I suppose, I got guaranteed job security. (checks hourglass) - got to go, or Old Father Time will ensure my ass is grass.

     There you have it.  The Grim Reaper: likes cigarettes, has a Newcastle accent and a fair grasp of modern idiom.

Swan Song
Finally finished this yesterday, all 951 pages of it.  I could have finished it on Sunday but I deliberately limited the amount I read.  
     I like the set-up, which was set towards the end of the Cold War and, before good old Putin It About came on the scene, was wildly outdated.  Now - not so much**.
     Anyway, it ambitiously begins with the end of the world, then follows a slew of survivors who begin to pick up the pieces again, with an amount of supernatural shortening thrown into the mix.  

Art Department strike again

     I thing Rob (i.e. Robert MacCammon, the author) glosses over the end of the warring miniature armies at the end of his book.  We could have done with more detail there.  Also, there's scope for a sequel.  Swan, the titular heroine, ends the novel as her journey to re-green America begins - plenty of scope for more adventures.  Then, as wise old Conrad mentioned, we could have a detailed depiction of how those armies died out.  Josh and the rebuilding of Mary's Rest, of the Russian survivors who came to the West Coast, of Canada and Mexico, there are tales to be told there.  And, as ever, The Man With The Scarlet Eye, the spiteful little child driven by an atomic rage and hatred, he's still around.
     Hmmm.  Might be an idea to visit Fanfiction and see if anyone has added to the canon.
     Blimey.  I only meant to write a line or two.  Am I verbose tonight or what!

Conrad.  Chatty as all get out.

The Tanker And Covert VIP Travel
I do apologise for that idiot Art mucking things up yesterday when I first mentioned Spectrum and how they moved people by hiding them in plain sight, using a tanker.  We shall now pause for Art to drop a gonad once again.  Art! Hands out of the biscuit jar!

This is Art's idea of "sneaky and covert"
I shall poke him with a sharp stick later

Captain Scarlet
Think about this: you have a VIP whose life may be in danger from ordinary terrorists, never mind the Mysterons.  How do you get them about in safety?
     Yes, you can stick them in a Spectum Maximum Security Vehicle, or you can use this:

Sneaky!

     After all, who'd look twice at a fuel tanker on an airfield?
     

      
     But what's this?  An entrance door?

     And it's quite plush inside.  2067 tax money at work.

The Black Sapper
The background to this is quite interesting.  Prior to 1971 in Hotspur comic, the Black Sapper was an outright criminal villain, a technological whiz who stole whatever took his fancy.  Come 1971 and the Asian Khansu invasion of the UK, the Black Sapper nobly strides out to bat for his mother country and take on the enemy.  He assists the home-grown British resistance movement, who get people around unseen from A to B via a converted milk-tanker, viz:

Earlier today I had a panel with the open tanker but it's not there tonight :(

     The milk tanker gets busted when Khansu soldiers use poles to sound out the tank, the (lying!) driver pleading that the tank is empty as he's just " - delivered milk to the mighty Khansu forces!"

Callan
Once described as a "grey, de-gadgetised Bond***", Callan has the job in the episode "Breakout" of breaking a KGB spy out of jail, and then killing him.  To get well away from the prison and avoid nosey police and prison guards, they use an empty petrol tanker.  Sadly I cannot locate a picture on Google and I'm not going to spend 20 minutes browsing Youtube to get one.  So use your imagination.

"Awww!  She's sent me flowers - I'll have to tank 'er."

Department S
In "The Trojan Tanker" a road traffic accident forces a petrol tanker off the road.  When investigated by the other driver, the tanker hull turns out to be fitted out like a yacht, with a bikini-clad girl in residence.

"Proof!" crowed Conrad.  Without any underclad girls to boot.

* Conrad.  A coward, but a live one.
** I know, I know, politics and current affairs.  Once again, whose blog is it?
*** Ah!  Realistic, then.