"I Like Clubbing!"

 - Said the Ankylosaurus
Come on, surely you noticed the quote marks there?  Since when has Conrad ever evinced the slightest interest in jogging up and down whilst crammed into a sweaty dive like a vertical sardine to music that is all rhythm and no melody, all at some ungodly early time of the morning only three hours before you have to be in work?
     Exactly never, is when.
     I shall probably have to explain my joke.  Which, a little worryingly, implies that I've gone all high-brow again, even if only temporarily.  Don't worry, I shall revert to type and post about farts and Dog Buns soon enough.
     Anyway, the Ankylosaurus.  You'll have seen this unlovely beast already, I assure you, but here it is again for those of short memories:

Almost wearing it's skeleton on the outside

     The name means "Fused lizard" and refers to all the skeletal bones that were fused together, making old Ankly a literally tough customer*.  You may also have noticed that bone club on the end of it's tail, which was capable of being wielded with considerable force, sufficient unto breaking big bones into bits.
     Hence today's blog title, refreshingly free of any hints about Star Trek or mutant fish.

"The Men Who Made The SAS" By Gavin Mortimer
Ah me, you can just see the editor and publishing staff, leaning over Gavin as he turns in his MSS, entitled "The LRDG".
     EDITOR: NO!  Good Lord, Gavin, are you trying to not sell books?
     PUBLISHING STAFF #1: The "Lurdergurgle"?  What the hell is that?
     EDITOR: It needs to be far sexier than that, Gavin, far more sexy.
     GAVIN (Timidly): "Sexy"?  But - but - it's about a military unit.  How -
     PUBLISHING STAFF #2: I know!  Stick "The SAS" in the title.  That always shifts books!
     EDITOR (proceeding to lick #2's boots): Excellent suggestion, sir, very good indeed.
     PUBLISHING STAFF #3: Get rid of this silly unpronouncable acronym, too.
     EDITOR (Licking both #2 and #3's boots): Oh how wise and mighty you are, sirs.
     GAVIN (Crossly):  Fine!  Fine!  I'll call it - "Percy Potter and the Blitzkrieg Thief."
     PUBLISHING STAFF #1: I like your thinking, Gav.  There's already a title like that, tho'.
     EDITOR:  "The men who made the sauce".
     PUBLISHING STAFF #3:  Close - "The men who made the - the - the -
     PUBLISHING STAFF #2:  SAS!  Done!  Sign on this line, Gavin -

     Well, enough hilarious satire of the publishing business**, onto the book.  This is an in-detail look at the Long Range Desert Group, founded by Ralph Bagnold, a desert explorer in between the wars.  The LRDG were dirty, scruffy, bearded and didn't bother with either drill or red tape, and for a very small unit they caused the Axis unlimited bother in the North African desert war.  Their name is a misnomer, as they were actually the Very Very Long Range Desert Group, who would regularly travel 2,500 miles in a round trip behind enemy lines to cause mischief.  Put in perspective, this is like travelling from the East Coast to the West Coast of South Canada America***.

The LRDG - about to make someone's life miserable

     They had two sort of op: Noisy or Quiet.  In the noisy variety they would turn up 500 miles behind enemy lines and blow things up, before vanishing into the desert.  Axis units had strict orders not to pursue, since any vehicles that did so were never seen again.  The quiet ops consisted of disguising oneself as a rock or bush and then sitting silently at the side of the road for days, watching enemy traffic.  

Hiding

Dull stuff, undoubtedly, yet the stuff from which intelligence pictures are built: how many tanks, armoured cars, towed artillery, self-propelled guns, staff cars, petrol tankers, water bowsers, supply trucks, half-tracks, radio trucks were on the road and heading in which direction - you get the picture.

Salvaged LRDG Chevrolet Truck at the Imperial War Museum
In pretty good nick!

The Horror Of Ketchup
Yes, really, no other word applies.  Conrad's tastes have changed over time, yet one pet hate that has never abated is that of ketchup.  It can be summed up in one concise four-letter word: Yuck.  

Tomato, vinegar, SUGAR.
I rest my case.

     Why the world wants to put sugar-flavoured tomato puree on it's food is another mystery alongside why people read Geoffrey Archer or listen to daytime Radio One.
     Don't bother getting back to me on this, I don't care.

The Horror Channel
I did idly click through the daytime schedule of this peculiarly-named channel yesterday morning.  "Peculiarly-named"? I hear you quibble.  Dead right.  "The Incredible Hulk", "The New Adventures of Wonder Woman", "Xena Warrior Princess" - none of these are horror.  The schedules don't appear to merit this description until 18:30, when "Bungo the Clown's Trousers" makes the transition to "Bungo the Clown's Trousers of DEATH".
     Just an observation.

Now, this is horror.  Sheer, awful, unmitigated terror.
(For Conrad, anyway)

* Good taste, and BOOJUM!'s SFW policy, means no mentions of horns or horny.
** Grain of truth in there, however
*** Reluctantly re-named in the cause of clarity.