Acerbic Horologist Meets Undead Roofthatcher

Yes!  Another Entry In "Most Boring Film Ever"
For those out there who are unaware, a horologist fixes clocks. And a roofthatcher*is a person who knits straw together to form a roof.  Don't worry if that doesn't make sense, it's a British thing - like driving on the proper side of the road, having a Queen and eating Brain's Faggots**.


As British As - Chipping Sodbury
It's a small town, for those of you not living in the UK.
     Conrad did wonder where the name comes from, as - once again to those not lucky enough to live here - it might sound like a kind of idiomatic swearing.  Imagine it, you take a swing with the hammer, the wall collapses and you fall on top of it, as the ceiling caves in on top of you, the gas pipes explode and you express yourself by shouting "Chipping Sodbury!"
     ER - not a bit of it.  "Sodbury" is an evolved version of the Anglo-Saxon "Soppabyrig", or "Soppa's Fort".  "Chipping" comes from the AS "Ceping", meaning "There was a market here."

A Chipping off the old block

     Hmmm.  If "Dog Buns!" ever wears out it's welcome as the official BOOJUM! swear, I am tempted to go for "Chipping Sodbury!" as a replacement.

As British As Ethyl Iodoacetate And Ethyl Alcohol
No!  This is not a recipe for party punch.  It is the full formula for a gas that the British used in the First Unpleasantness, known as "Lachrymatory" and "Persistent".
     I can see you wincing and wondering where the door is ... don't worry, there are no sinister plans to take over the world with it.  This information is from the book by Palazzo that I'm currently reading, "Seeking Victory on the Western Front", which deals with the British Army's use of chemicals in warfare.

So much for British "fair play and sportsmanship"!

     The reason I mention "SK" is because I can bore for England on the First Unpleasantness and yet had never heard or recalled hearing about SK, so full marks to Palazzo for informing.  As a lachrymatory it wasn't fatal, because it went for the eyes; if you wanted to remain able to see, though, you put on a gas mask when the Royal Artillery went whanging shells of SK around.  Because it was persistent, once it contaminated ground it gave off vapours for days or weeks afterwards, so again in the interests of self-health you kept clear of any such ground.
     I have to say that the British took to gas warfare with a hypocritical glee, and one can only be sorry for the unfortunate German landsers who were faced with people like Major Foulkes of the Special Brigade, who followed chosen German units up and down the line, gassing them on every occasion, or Captain Livens, whose intention was "to reduce the cost of killing a German to eight shillings and sixpence".  Scarey people, maybe more of them anon.

Not sure of the perspective here, but Captain Livens seems to be standing in a rather dangerous position ...

Rich Hall
No!  Not a British stately home.  Rich Hall, the comedian.  You may have seen him on "QI", which Conrad caught occasionally when Darling Daughter still lived with us.
     I mention him as The Metro has - very much against the state of play - done an interview with him on their "60 Seconds" page and he comes over well even in this cursory, surface-scratching presentation.  He's a funny chap, good with the deadpan, and magnificently ugly, no over-promo'd pretty-boy trading on his good looks he, and as a Yank hacking it in the UK for several years now, he deserves plaudits for merely surviving our funny island ways.

Stoney-faced Rich Hall.  No, wait a minute -

A Rod For My Own Back
Today we bade farewell to foxy Roxy, the strikingly attractive and stylish young lady on my team, and also Rick.  No offense, Rick, but she is prettier than you.  She's going down to the Third Floor, to do project work - and also probably lazily take the lift up and down,  inconveniencing the rest of us.
     Rick's going to People Support, just behind our bank of desks.
     Then the heavily-pregnant Janice is 30 tomorrow.
     "Thank you, Conrad, for painting a picture of your office environment.  So What?" I hear you say.
     Sigh.  Because it's expected that I do a pome for anyone leaving or having a significant birthday.  Roxy Kashani sits next to me and did nothing but pester all week.
     "How's the poem coming along?"  "How long is my poem?"  "I want my poem to make people cry!"

Roxy Kashani, get you gone!

I cast you out, you evil genie.

Those who’ll miss you number none

As you move to Third Floor scenery.

Nobody will miss your pouty blog

Where you posture, preen and pose.

And indulge in one-way dialogue

About boys, boy bands and boy band clothes.

No need to say “get her to the Greek”

Since Roxy’s so dearly devoted to Yanni.

A better phrase would be “Get her she’s so chic –“

And so sleek and so very canny.

(although rather less so in her daily flip-out

I’m told Roxy totally loses the plot.

Tom ensures no sharp things are about,

Or Roxy would kill us.  Yes!  The whole lot.

When she’s settled and sedated and sane again

You won’t find a more glamourous young charmer.

Possibly the world’s nicest Anglo-Iranian

And a fully-qualified funeral embalmer.

Lastly Roxy would like to put it around

She’s interested in acting as a diversion

So anyone in film please don’t put her down,

As you can’t go wroing in casting a Persian

     All true bar the funeral embalmer bit, which did make people frown a little.  I may have to disabuse them of this notion next week.

Well, I did have plans for a whole lot more stuff, but we're up to a thousand words already.  Allow me to present the prep-work from this morning:

Raw scrivel before processing

Proof of how hard I work here on the blog, all the prep - ah, you're not even listening, are you <trails off in a muttered series of swears>

* I am forced by the nature of the blog to add "roof" as otherwise people in the corridors of power will nervously wonder if I'm talking about that dead politico.
** I'm not going to explain this, just laugh at the expressions of any South Canadians who might be reading.