It's Cheryl Cole - And Her Terror Tadpole!

I Apologise For Tempting You In -
 - with the talentless clothes-horse.  Yes!  Amazingly enough Conrad has heard of her, though thankfully nothing by her, although that dreadful rendition of an Owl City song was only narrowly escaped.  I don't know what the editorial staff at "Q" were thinking when they put her on the cover.  Probably along the lines of "O wow a big fat bribe thinly disguised as an official sponsorship deal!"
     I believe she infests one of those ghastly musical programmes on television, but once again cannot confirm any of this as it would 1) take time to confirm and 2) inflict irreparable damage to my corneas whilst probably 3) generating an urge to kill.
     Oh, the terror tadpole?  It grew up into Tony the Ten Ton Terror Toad.  Art?

Superheroes With Their Pants Down
Almost literally in this case.  Bruce Banner transforms into the Hulk on a regular basis, regular enough to have invented Miraculous Expanding Trousers, which are snug, form-fitting, with a dash of rebel style and won't leave you naked after a bout of Hulking-out.
     Okay, that's the easy target out of the way.  Consider, if you will, what Bruce has to avoid doing on a daily basis, lest he transform into the big green gobstopper.
     1)  No alcohol.  Nor illegal drugs either, although this goes without saying as Bruce is squeaky-clean.  Anyway, booze: to be avoided at all costs lest his emotional control be compromised.  You or I could sink sixteen snakebites and get into an argument in the queue at Tiger Tiger*; Bruce would Hulk out and destroy the entire Northern Quarter*.

Which, for a lot of pretentious bars, would be a very good thing.

     2) No driving.  This is far too risky a proposition, for obvious reasons.  When it comes down to it, public transport is a liability, too.  Hence Bruce walks everywhere.
     3) No I.T.  Certainly not!  Once again, you or I will merely hammer the mouse for thirty seconds, or exclaim "Dog Buns!" loudly, or maniacally stab your stale baguette so violently with your knife that you impale it to the desk, when the IT misbehaves.  Bruce would destroy the whole building and everyone in it.

"Hello?  Is that IT?  You have a problem.  A big green one."

     4) Watch sports.  Again, any emotional investment in watching the World Series as an example would be very ill-advised.  There are the New York - the New York - er - the New York, ah, Jayhawks, doing really well, Bruce is really rooting for them and then they suddenly lose.  You can imagine the sound of a television set being kicked so hard it goes into orbit, can't you?
     5) Play sports.  Perhaps with the exception of darts, this one is self-explanatory.
     6) Stub his toes.  You and I might only swear a lot, clutching the abused digit, hop for a minute or two and then stumble back to bed in the small hours.  Not so Bruce.  O no.  That partition wall would be in fragments, and so would the floor - the entire floor, not just one plank, either.

Poster child for:"Eat your greens and grow up big and strong."

As The Hulk Might Say ...
I know, I'm milking this a bit.  Once again, whose blog is it?

"Yes, puny human?"

     Note that this is the cat in the dog's bed.  Surely an intimation of the End Times**!

An Essay On Ice Cream
Forgive me for banging on about ice cream, as it is surely up there with the i-pod, the internet and the fission-fusion-fission warhead as one of humanity's more impressive achievements.   You hear me going on about having it for breakfast, yes, although I don't believe I've ever explained the process. 
     Katie Wood, if you're reading, start taking notes ... now!
The Raw Ingredients

Pecan and Pistachio Ice cream in the making

     Here we have the nuts, sugar, eggs and vanilla being added, then comes the milk.  Note that I used a quarter of the amount of nuts the recipe calls for, because i) I am a cheapskate and ii) It doesn't need that much nut.
A Zap In The Blender

A deft zef zap

     You need to give it a good couple of minutes, otherwise you end up with big lumps of nut in your creamy blend, which is nut good***.
Fire Burn And Cauldron Bubble

     Sorry, been reading too much Shakespeare.  Anyway, here we see the mix being heated until it thickens.
Cool

Ignore the giant flagon of beer.  Ignore it I say!

     This is the boring part.  Please be aware that I've cat-proofed the mixture with a plate over the top, otherwise madam ("Yes, puny human?") might interfere.
Whisky

It has a whisk.  Hence "whisky"

     Here the mix gets a good 30 minutes of rotating action, and a couple of tablespoons of vodka, which helps prevent it setting like concrete.
Voila!

End product

     This is the mix just before it goes into the freezer.  I've not made this ice cream for over a year, so it'll be interesting to see how it turns out tomorrow.

Shakeshaft
I have to admit that I derive a gratuitous delight in bashing Bill the Bard Of Avon with the nail-studded truncheon of parody.  Since he died about 400 years ago I don't suppose it bothers him one whit.  I do live in fear that some Shakespearean fanatic will post an unkind Comment^.  
     Have at thee Sonnet Number whatever:

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

You can, Bill, but I don't swing that way.

"Though art more lovely and more temperate"

Bill, old chap, you're getting desperate.

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May"

Yes, English weather takes one's breath away.

"And summer's lease hath all to short a date."

"A date"? Bill, I told you, no flirting, mate.

Heh heh!



* Manchester night-spots.
** Or, just a cat doing a cat thing.
*** Do you see what I did - O you do.
^ Since the only Commenter here is ME this is highly unlikely.

It's Dave Grohl - And His Murderous Mole!

It Might Be A Real Thing
It might be!  And no, I don't mean the kind of mole you have on your face.  I mean the little furry chap with big paws and bad eyesight, who lives on a diet of worms.
     Or blood, if you're a Murder Mole*.  
     I suppose you're going to quibble that Dave Grohl doesn't have a pet mole.
     Fine!  Be my guest and disprove his collection of Terminator Talpidae doesn't exist.

Ah, the things you find at the back of the kitchen cupboard

     In the meantime, Conrad will be getting on with the blog, if that's alright with you?
     Thank you so much.

The Doggerel Deadline
O the woe.  Conrad has been described - rather flatteringly in his opinion but heck take it where you can get it - as a "wordsmith".  For evidence please read yesterday's post and the "Pome For Alison", or indeed any post on BOOJUM! although sadly I don't have a copy of my 3-page handwritten letter to First Bus.
     Okay, in about 3 weeks Mo**, Rick and Roxy all leave Service Delivery, where they - ah - deliver service.  Mo and Rick go to People Support, where they - er - support people.  Roxy goes off to do project work in Food, where she - oh, you get the idea.
     "Fascinating," I can hear you saying.  
     I can also hear you saying "This is deadly dull.  Who wants to know about people moving around in the Enormous Anonymous Employer of Conrad's?"
     Excuse me!  A little less cheek, thank you.
     These transpositions of staff matter because Conrad has been nominated by default to knock up a goodbye pome for staff departing these shores.  So that's three to come up with all at once. Oh well, I suppose with great ability comes a lot of default job-nominating.

Forget poems, they're not very visual.  Have an industrial blender instead

Television: A Report
Once again Conrad was watching television whilst dog-sitting Edna; more about her and Jenny later.  Up came Dick and Dom, compering and book-ending a clip-show dedicated to "Takeshi's Castle".
     If you haven't seen this programme, imagine "It's A Knockout"***, but with more contestants and humiliation.  You've got to give the Japs kudos for being good sports about it when they end up deluged with slime, water or mud.  Some of the trials are ridiculously difficult, whilst some consist of pure chance, and there is always a high probability of falling into a giant muddy pond.

Sitting on a rocking dinosaur trying to spray a pink bat.
Of course.

The Adverts
These seemed to fall into two categories; loan companies and lawyers.  There was one with a lot of women being annoying by dancing merrily so I killed the sound and will never know what they were trying to flog^.  
     Lawyers.  I am minded at this point to repeat a quote from Barry Newman's character, Petrocelli, from the show "Petrocelli".  "If I wanted to make money I'd have scabs on my knees from chasing ambulances."  That line has stuck with me.  If only all lawyers were like Petrocelli, and lived in a caravan whilst building their own home.

That's a very Zen statement, don't you agree?

     Elementary:  Never heard of this before, but a little digging reveals it's a contemporary take on Sherlock Holmes, rather like an American version of "Sherlock", and seems well received.  I may watch in future, but I have about 20 films and two other tv series to watch before then.  I'll get back to you on this.

Lemon.  Close enough.

     Banshee: Again, never heard of it before.  Once again the oracle of the internet pronounces it to be an action-drama, focussing on an ex-convict taking on a false identity in the town of Banshee.  That's Banshee Pennsylvania, FYI.  

Bandsaw.  Close enough

     "Classic Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?": and here my bilious nature comes to the fore.  "Classic"?  CLASSIC?  Get out of here before I baton your shins with an empty wine bottle!  It's not remotely classic, it's just old.  Get that.  "Are You Being Served?" likewise is NOT a classic - it's just old.  Star Trek The Original Series and B & W Doctor Who^^ are classic, however.

Every second true.

Okay, ranting and tanting about telly over, you can come out from behind the sofa.

It's Like Looking After Kids - Kids In Fur Coats!
Yes indeed.  Any parents reading this will vouch for the validity of my statement - when you can't hear or see your children, when there is an uncanny silence, then something is wrong.  Every time.
     So it was with Edna.  Normally she sits in the lounge whilst I watch television and do my indexing, either sitting upon me or close by.  After a few minutes I noticed her absence and found her in the Upstair Lair trying to eat Onion Rings out of a pack I'd (unwisely) left on the floor.  Fortunately the pack was too narrow for her to force her head in, although if left any longer she'd have torn it open.

How cute! the little criminal

     Okay, back to "Police Interceptors" - one of Conrad's guilty pleasures - and after a longer delay I notice Edna returning from an absence, chewing a rawhide roll.
     She disappeared again, coming back with another rawhide roll, at which point I discovered that the pack of said rolls had fallen out of the wicker tower.
     'Bad Girl!' I chided, to a head-down, static-tailed dog who knew she'd done wrong.

     Then I had to put up with a squabble about who got to lie on Conrad the Comfy Cat/Canine Cushion.

The somewhat-gnawed evidence

Look At This!

     Fourth language in, that's Cyrillic, and is pronounced "Russkiy Sluzhba", and Stanimir at work confirmed this alphabet and language is one of the hardest to learn, given that it has more characters than the Roman alphabet, including ones that look the same but which are pronounced differently, and there are three tenses.
     Oh and there's something there about a Cup Final.  Whatever that is.


* This is, of course, assuming that such things exist, which they might, because they'd be so deadly that no-one would survive an encounter to bear witness.
** Happy Mo, not K-Mo.
*** I'm not going to explain this - go and Google it!
^ Ha!
^^ The most influential documentary series ever, even if it does resort to re-enactment.

Don't Be Dismal - It's Pepto-Bismol!

Life Reflecting Art

For ages I have muttered the above as an imprecation, not particularly interested in what "Pepto-Bismol" was, except that it rhymed.  And then today Sophie* posted - well, you will see a bit further down what comes from what she posted.

     So, Pepto-Bismol is a real thing.

     Next - Sprong is revealed to not only be real, but used in airframe maintenance -

Spronging it

A Pome For Alison

Alison, who is one-third of The Kites**, had a birthday event at work on Friday, as she wouldn't be present at work on her actual birthday.  Thanks to Manisha's prodding, Conrad (normally a dozy git at the best of times) had remembered to write her a bit of nonsense doggerel, which she was kind enough to want a copy of.

     Here's your copy:  

A POME FOR ALISON*

Normally it’s Alison who speaks up in verse,

On behalf of the Kites of San Quentin.

Today, obviously, that’s all in reverse;

She gets to hear someone else venting.

Her Facebook page is set to “Confound”

In the persona of mystery Joan Mitchell.

Partner of promoter and player renowned –

Phil “Blood Boy” Mitchell from Minshull.

Alison – or Joan, it does get confused –

Is invariably sunny-natured at work

Get it straight, she is not drug-abused!

Just bright, breezy and prone to twerk.

This attitude, I fear, depresses the glums,

The greys and the gloomy and boring.

To them I say stop flapping your gums

Treasure Jaunty Joan, don’t be so abhorring.

Musically our Alison should be called “Alisonic”

Thanks to her mastery of musical composition,

And gew-gaws and gadgets and all things electronic.

She also indulges in contorted muscled precision

Better known as “Yoga” to you and me.

This allows her to use posture with decision

And play that so sensitive instrument – her Theremini.

*Or is it Joan?

     And there you have it!  The only bit not true is Phil coming from Minshull - however it rhymes.

A Facebook Quiz - "Which Classic Novel Best Describes Your Personality?"

Well, I did think this might have a slightly more positive outcome.  You know what these clickbait quizzes are like; Conrad usually ends up as either "Slug", "Weasel" or "Serial Killer". Behold:

1984.  Thank you.  Thank you so much.

     I don't know about you, but I've read "1984"***, and I think this quiz has me bang to rights, guvnah.

Bismuth

I know that BOOJUM! covered a selection of the elements quite a while back, so it's possible that we've already been entertained by Bismuth, although I doubt it - compared to the wild party-animal elements like Phosphorus, or Flourine, or Strontium, Bismuth is the quiet chap sitting in the corner with a cola.

     Anyway, this post came up as a result of Sophie* going a bit ga-ga on Facebook about Bismuth:

Bismuth in crystalline form

     Conrad, who has a retentive mind with no filing or organisation to it, vaguely remembered that Bismuth is a heavy metal, and that these elements are not to be taken lightly^.  A quick check reveals that it has qualities similar to lead and antimony - but that, unlike either, it has practically no toxic qualities.

     Phew!  No need to warn Sophie* about poisoning herself with heavy metal crystals.

     And then in the body of the Wikipedia notes, what turns up but Pepto-Bismol.  This, apparently, is a pabulum used to settle the queasy stomach.

Hmmm. Looks like window cleaner to me

     Well well, whaddya know.

What did I say?

Superheroes With Their Pants Down

NOT LITERALLY!  Sheesh you are a dirty-minded lot.  It's a metaphor.

     Okay, we've shone a spotlight of shame on Superman and Batman, now we turn towards that ferric icon, Iron Man.

     Everybody now knows that Tony Stark is Iron Man, which must make his life rather stressful.  If Supes blows up a city block accidentally, who can arrest him and put him in jail?  If Batty^^ runs the Batcopter through a passenger jet on approach to Gotham TX, who knows whom to arrest?

     However, if Iron Man so much as keys a passing car, no matter how tentatively, then the world and his wife know who to sue.

Like this, except with less keys

     Okay, so imagine you're one of the beautiful people, invited to a huge party with all expenses paid for by your Gigantic Motor Industry Employers.  Whilst there you bump into Tony, and you observe that he's never without a glass of whisky.  WRONG! It's actually cold tea.  Why - what is that suspicious white powder he's freely handing out?  WRONG! It's talcum powder cut with sherbet.  He's necking it from the bottle -  a Chateau Riesling, too.  WRONG! It's a bottle he emptied earlier and refilled with lemonade.

     If you were more astute you'd have been tracking Tony's social engagements, including his monthly visits to Henstridge Drama Studios, where he learns the Stanislavsky Method, all the better to put one over on the media.

Tony hamming it up at one of his drama classes.

*No, that Sophie, not this Sophie

** O very well.  From The Kites Of San Quentin

*** Surely the only mathematically-titled novel in English?

^ Do you see what I did - O you do.

^^ There aren't really any dignified contractions of "Batman"