It's Steven Seagal - Sipping Chivas Regal!

Actually It's Not, At All
Good lord, you lot are so gullible!  How many times has Conrad lied about what's in the blog, or even the first paragraph*?  And yet you clicked on the link expecting to see -

Not the twinkletoes he was back in the 80's, it is fair to say

     - and this isn't Chivas Regal, but it was invented by Mr. Seagal -

Apparently it tasted vile

I Have An Angle On This
If you read the blog as conscientiously as you ought to - every day and twice at the weekend - then you will know that Conrad has angled one of his two monitors at work at a slight angle, since he inevitably leans on the table to view, meaning he's also at a slight angle, and the two cancel each other out.

 

OOOOH!  LOOK IT'S AT A SLIGHT ANGLE!  ALERT THE FLOOR TO CONRAD'S WIERDNESS!

      This arrangement has proved only slightly less controversial than Ice Cream Breakfast Man.  I was forced - forced, I tell you! - to add an explicative, thus:

     Looking across the Seventh Floor, at the hundreds of other desks there, Conrad has to admit - er - his is the only Angled Monitor.
     For whatever that's worth.

     aaaand that's the first post, when I have a total of 9 lined up.  Time and motion studies prove that they're not all going to get posted tonight.

"Operation Sea Lion" By Peter Fleming
Yesterday I read a line that triggered a memory**.  I'd had a twinge of deja vu earlier in the week, about reading a line mentioning tracer rounds flicking over the playing fields.  This next line came from a paragraph about the Auxiliary Units and how winter would have prevented them from carrying out their murderous clandestine activities.
     I know, I know, I've nearly finished reading the book before coming to this realisation, but I only read it the once, back in 1975, so Oscar*** isn't doing all that badly.

                                               Seal  Ion.
                                             Close enough.

The BOOJUM! Audience^
Do not fear, the application of statistics here is very light and fluffy, rather like a candlewick bedspread of facts.
     Okay, my routine for blogging^^is that I'll create a post in the evening, pimp it on Facebook and Twitter, then pimp it again in the late evening.  Come the next morning, I'll promote it again; and it is rather curious to see that a reminder going out at 6:30 a.m. still gets readers - I thank you, noble and either insomniac or sequestered in other time zone readers - which might generate a dozen hits until I get home and create a new post.
     Not so today!  Somewhere along the line 43 people have visited the blog, and no, it isn't one person visiting 43 times as the Overview page breaks this down by country.

Ooops!  Behind the times.  46, not 43

     Conrad would like to thank everyone who takes the trouble to read his scrivel.  I write this because it entertains me, so it's nice to see that it entertains a few others, too.
     There.  Minimum of mathematical mayhem!

Shakeshaft
Oooh, how I love this bit!  Getting in a sly dig at Mr. Shakespeare and showing how wonderfully witty and pretty witty I am.  In my own head, anyway.
     I will post a picture elsewhere that shows what I was plotting originally, although the initial parody "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players, correct in this reality TV age -" rather ran aground on the rocks of not finding anything sufficiently negative that rhymed with "players".
     Anyway, let us tear into The Scottish Play, which the rational and empiric call "MacBeth".  Picture the scene - a Highland moor, with a trio of witches cackling together:

"When shall we three meet again?

In thunder, lightning or in rain?"

This is Scotland you're on about.

There really is no risk of drought.

If you only meet when it's very wet,

You'll have endless days to select.

Thank you!  More mockery tomorrow!

I Say, Coincidence, This Is MY Taxi!
As you know, Conrad does not like to experience more that one Attack Of The Fifty Foot Coincidence per day, as it plays on his sense of paranoia^^^.
     Not today!
     Darling Daughter had been staying overnight at the Mansion, and chose to get a lift into Manchester from Degsy in the car from 7:30 onward.  Conrad went into work on the bus, as he gets an hour of reading time this way.
     Conrad got off the bus, walked a hundred yards and who is this getting out of a car in front of him?

Darling Daughter!

     Ten seconds either way and it wouldn't have happened.  Despite the purple hair, Sally is actually an attractive young woman and Conrad scored points merely by being seen with her.
     Next up we have evidence that I'd been contemplating writing about MacBeth for the Shakeshaft post:

I'm not going to translate my trademark Spiderscrawl.

     Aaaaand what comes up on IMDB when I log on to check out "Sharknado?

I had to take a photo rather than do a screenshot, as this page would undoubtedly have changed by the time I got home

Perfidy, Thy Name Is Weather!
I think there is a strong case for the nature of Perfidious Albion to be - if not blamed, entirely - a result of our weather.
     If I may explain, a British politician with entirely too accurate a sense of drama and elucidation announced that "we do not have friends or enemies, merely interests."  This attitude is clearly bred in the bone amongst us islanders as a result of our environment.
     An environment that begins the day like this:

A lot of blue - but also a hint of rain-bearing grey

     promising sunshine and cerulean skies, yet which ends like this:

Capital G.R.E.Y.

     Although the treacherous skies cleared on the way home to result in glorious sunshine - you can see how Ultima Thule raised a lot of potentially treacherous offspring, can't you?

Dog Buns!  Over a thousand words and not even halfway through the list of items.  Oh well.  Tomorrow is another day!~


* Which we call the Intro.  Because it is.
** A la "A La Recherche de Temps Perdue"
*** My memory.
^ You!
^^ I give you permission to skip this bit.  Rather dry, don't you know.
^^^ Known by some as "common sense"
~ Unless you have a TARDIS