I Have Not Ate at Six Past Eight

You See?  You see?  The Sacrifices I Make?
To get this blog to you in a timely fashion?
     Actually the truth is rather less dramatic than starving for art, as you know what a self-promoting swill-spouting whale of woe Conrad is*.  In truth this afternoon I've been dining on jam doughnuts, crisps, tortillas, squashy bananas, toffee popcorn, jelly babies and pints of generic cola.  Not to mention the pint of coffee made up with several teaspoons of honey.  So!  After the sugar rush wore off, I've not been that hungry as all the above came after lunch.


The Irony Of OctSober
I should say, Ian La Frenais**!
     Yesday was the first day of dipping one's large, mis-shapen toe into the waters of sobriety for a whole month, and I didn't yield to temptation at the Halfway House during the pub quiz, instead settling for delicious limeade.
     I did win a bottle of red wine, however, which is going to have to sit for a month unopened in the cupboard, alongside the bottle of white wine.

Conrad, horribly drunk.  Or completely sober.
(Yes, it is hard to tell the difference)

     If you call me posting last night, I wondered what obscure historical question would come up at the quiz, and we were not disappointed.  "Name the English admiral in charge of the British fleet that defeated the Comte de Grasse, in the battle that took place at the Saintes".
     Quite!  Naval matters not a speciality of Conrad.  I guessed that Nelson would be too young, and went for Admiral Hood.  The answer given was actually Admiral Sir George Rodney - but a quick Wiki reveals that Sir Samuel Hood was prominent in the action, too.  So - Conrad morally correct, eh?

You What?
I don't mind harping on a theme, even if you object, because - whose blog is it?  Anyway, more of wine.  The Twits have been especially inept today, as you can see:

NO!  NO YOU CANNOT!

      Conrad has practically no palate and so tends to avoid wine.  It gets used in cooking - goulash soup particularly - and that's about it.  My favoured tipple, as you ought to know, is Old Golden Hen, which is a continent away from wine.

More Screenshots
I do apologise, I thought I'd saved a rather peculiar Tweet from the University of East Anglia, but there's only a big black square when I look at my saved screenshots.
     Well, instead I can post some artwork by Brian Michael Bendis.  I've mentioned him on occasion before, he writes the "Powers" comics and also "The United States of Murder", which I may be acquiring tomorrow.  BMB started off as an artist and caricaturist - enough words, have a look at these:

Small, perhaps, yet sufficient

     And another:

These are about Chewbacca.  You may have guessed that already.

     Award-winning writer and talented artist, too.  He probably can't bake for toffee, though, I console myself.

"The B.F.G." By Roald Dahl
I haven't read the book, I confess, although I've seen the film several times.  Whilst in the shower thinking up a skit based on the author's name, I stopped to ponder a bit.  Only a bit, unlike pondering at the bus-stop if you over-ponder in a shower the hot water runs out.
     "Where?" I pondered, "Are all the female giants***?" There's a whole flock of child-devouring flesh-eating male monsters, of whom the BFG is the honourable exception, but nary a female do we see.
     Now, given that this film has to be SFW, and that the male giants are given to a casual attitude when it comes to clothing - Art?

BFG vs. BUG

     - perhaps the idea that acres of rollicking female anatomy would get a 13 Certificate at the least meant that they were a non-starter.
     Or!  Perhaps Dahl was inspired by the tale of the Entwives in "Lord of the Rings", another race of giant females who have vanished from the world.
     Of course, I could be overthinking this a bit ...

Winter Plumage
This morning I had occasion to use my birthday present from Darling Daughter.   This is because, whilst the October days may be warm and sunny^, there is a definite nip in the air of a morning.
     Let the proof be provided!

Old, fat and jowly.
Looking rather scowly.

     The present, as you can see, was a scarf, and very warmly welcome it was, too.

Finally -
I don't think the "Darwin Award Winners" website is still going, which is a shame.  It recorded the variously successful or unsuccessful attempts by idiots to remove themselves from the gene pool by stupid behaviour.  Allow me to show you what I mean -

     Fortunately there doesn't appear to have been any serious consequence from this muppet's actions.  The old unexploded ordnance of the First Unpleasantness is still being dug out of the soil of France and Belgium to the tune of hundreds of tons per year.  The shells might be completely corroded and inert, but then again they may not, and the decay salts created from explosives over time can render them liable to explode if breathed upon, the explosive fuse as well as the main body of the shell.  Then, too, they may have had a payload of poison gas, or thermite.
     Conrad he say: DO NOT TOUCH!

A Stokes Mortar bomb.
Ten pounds of nasty waiting to happen!

* Of course, if you want to dispute this any time, please feel free.  Actually I do like that description: "A self-promoting swill-spouting whale of woe".  I may reuse that.
** Co-creator of "The Likely Lads"
*** Or is it "giantesses"?
^ Curses!