It's Halloweek. You May Not Have Noticed.

And Yes, I Did Spell It "Halloweek" Deliberately
What, you think Cornad would come out with a silly spelling mistake as the title for today's post?  Pish!  Tush! Tupish! <Mister Hand intervenes with a bamboo skewer to move things along a little>
     , yes, quite, thanks for the pincushion interpretation.
     Anyway, I put "-week" as it's definitely no longer merely an "-een", which as any fule kno is an obsolete variant of "evening".  I believe that Halloween is now up there, just after Christmas and Valentine's Day, as a commercial money-spinner par excellence.  It also allows small children licence to roam the streets, extorting money and sweets out of a terrorised public.
     Well, that's quite enough about the positive aspects.  One of the downers is that people expect their Halloween Pumpkin Cake to be made with real pumpkin.  The nerve!

The article in question

     It was rather lost at work amongst some far more decorative pieces, especially Aaron's Stabbed Zombie Cake (grey on the inside).
     In context:

     Sophie's (not that Sophie, this Sophie) iced biscuits are right there in front of you.  Plus she made cupcakes.  I don't know where she gets the time; probably doesn't have a blog to do daily.

Working For A Nuclear Free City
If you have any short-term memory you'll remember Conrad banging on about a track by this group earlier in the week, and how happy he was that his normally defective memory successfully identified the track that had been looping around his mind for days.
     "Brown Owl".  Make the most of it, Conrad, as there won't be any more: WFANFC broke up last year.  As ever, I get to like a band and they die on their feet.

This is they, playing live

      How did they get their name?  Conrad cannot be certain but he remembers a billboard on Dale Street, featuring a dove and the legend "Working for a nuclear free city", placed there by Manchester City Council, a loooong time ago.
     Since this is bordering on politics I shan't go on, but it's rather the Other Feller's intent you have to worry about if you're trying to be Nuclear-Free, as even a small atom bomb can spoil your grand design.

Last Year's Model
Exactly so.  I found an old notebook from last year, which details my plotting and planning for the blog at that time.  I have to say, I'd hate to be my psychiatrist, as even I've got no idea what I was on about then.

Hopefully most of what's in that head will remain safely locked away.

     "Sex with a jigsaw puzzle" is one line.  What?  Who?  Is this SFW?  What the hell was I thinking?  Then there's a a brief biography of Freidrich "Fritz" Sternberg - German left-wing academic, scientist and politician.  Precisely.  TO WHAT END!  And then "Lorica Segmentata and Socks" - I think this is about the Romans in England, as I seem to remember that they wore socks to counter the dreadful English weather.
     Then there's a bit of description about a "Felucca", which is a variety of ship, and then - obviously! as one flows seamlessly into the other - the "Spitting Devils Cabbage".
     What triumphs over all this nonsense, however, is a "Where Eagles Dare" drinking game.  Since my time on the wagon ends tomorrow, I rather suspect Conrad will be playing this in the evening -

W.E.D.: Every time you hear "Damned" = Drink
W.E.D.: A Nazi clicks their heels = Drink
W.E.D.: A vehicle explodes for no reason = Drink
W.E.D.: A German is killed = Drink

That last one alone will have your humble scribe licking the paintwork by the sixty minute mark ...

"We - we - we lose the war?"

Rejoice! (Or Despair, It's Up To You)
As you may be aware, Conrad likes his music.  A lot.  Thankfully for most of humanity this fondness for rock, electronica and metal is counterbalanced by Absolutely Nil Musical Talent.
     I know, I know, this hasn't proven a problem for certain girly-looking male singers who can't play, sing or compose; Conrad, may I confess, is not as photogenic as these ex-models, and in fact will break 1 camera in 3 that tries to photograph his hideous granite maw.  So a career in music has not been viable.
     Until now.

It's fate - even John Lennon is looking fondly at me.

     Already I can feel a set of track-listings gestating as "Lift Rock For Idiots" moves from Purely Theoretical to Worryingly Possible.

As Seen In The Metro: "ALIPSTICKREVOLUTION"
This is simply asking for it!  Conrad, known hater of the Flyswatter Daily, and an artificial word that he can parse as he wishes.
     So.  This Ali P. has a Stick, has he?  And it's going to promote revolution?  Watch out because the Russians will start bombing you Ali*!

"This is a stick - a stick-em-up!"

Also As Seen In The Metro: "Pay The Ghost"
I'm sure you see the plot hole here already.  Ghosts, being nebulous phantasms of the afterlife, generally do not need specie, most especially as coins fall through their ectoplasmic pockets.  Notes, given their larger surface area and lower density, might not be quite so problematic.
     Regardless, let us indulge in a little critique:

It's Nick!  Good Old Nick!
Er - 

     "Evil walks among us", apparently.  If this is so, then Evil ought to get with the twenty-first century, oughtn't it, and adopt a more efficient mode of transport?  For cripes sake, Evil, how much territory are you going to cover if you walk?  Three miles an hour.  If you refuse to drive or take the bus***, at least get a Segway!


* I know, I know, this is trespassing onto both politics and current affairs**.
** So sue me.
*** If it was First Bus, it would be Evil-meet-Evil, which might clash a bit