It might be Italian. Anyway, as you surely know by now, one of Conrad's little foibles is his fondness for having ice cream for breakfast. This has aroused both curiosity and criticism at work - now that it's not fashionable to critique people on left or right-handedness, we ice-cream-breakfasters are the target of choice.
For reasons of logistics and thawing time, it's not possible for me to transport either my Frozen Yoghurt or Generic Cornetto-knockoffs to work without either melting, so I've been resorting to Cornettos from the shop in work.
Not only do I get a staff discount, they're down to 25 pence each!
Breakfast! |
I'll get back to you on this.
Further Of Food
We were notified earlier this afternoon about a competition, one of the prizes being a £130 toaster. To enter one submitted a poem that included the words "giant" and "crumpet", as the competition sponsors are vending giant crumpets.
As you surely know by now, Conrad hates poetry - hates hates hates it - but even the gentlest of nudges will inspire him to throw a bit of doggerel together:
“Warburtons, ever one to blow their trumpet,
Have created a newer, much larger, crumpet.
I like crumpets, but, alas, this novel giant
Won’t fit the toaster. It’s not compliant!
So, if this rhyme permits me to be the winner,
I’ll have that toaster, and crumpets for dinner.”
Voila!
NO! She's not really small. It's a really big crumpet. Read the title. Do keep up! |
Fog And Vanishing Landmarks
It was extremely foggy in Manchester yesterday, so much so that Dom remarked one couldn't see the Halle Tower, and indeed from our eyrie within the Electric Goldfish Bowl one couldn't even see the street outside.
Scope, one imagines, for evil alien intruders to swoop in and remove such landmarks under cover of the fog. I happened to mention the similar fate that befell the pub "Tommy Ducks" way back in 1993, except that back then it was construction companies who were responsible. Less dangerous than aliens but quicker off the mark as they don't have to travel 187 light-years to the workplace.
As it was |
Come the very first stroke of 13th February 1993, it got flattened instantly and was completely gone by the next day.
Gosh! I bet you're wondering. What on earth can the reason behind that have been?
No comment from Conrad - |
Please note, for non-English speakers**, that this word is NOT interchangable with the other one that begins with "B".
It's origin is in Old English, from the Fifteenth Century, where it meant a "base coward", later evolving to mean "Dull and stupid". Now, of course, it means an utter, unscrupulous rogue, especially -
No-one - absolutely NO-ONE - tweaks a moustache as villainously as Dick |
Call Of Duty: Black Ops
Conrad's eye has been caught by the garish animated digital billboard that adorns the pavement close to the Electric Goldfish Bowl, particularly by an advert for the computer game above.
Conrad is given to understand that "Black Ops" are covert, sneaky, deniable, stealthy, underhand jobs. Not it these adverts are anything to go by - more Red and Yellow than Black thanks to all the explosions and blood.
"The Cat And The Canary"
Which is a fillum, in case you don't know, made back in 1939 and only 74 minutes long when people's attention spans were obviously shorter than today's MTV/mobile phone/computer game generation -
- hang on, have I got that right?
Whatever. I'd seen this ages ago, read a review in "Empire" and decided to rewatch it. Still entertaining and also refreshing to see a hero as cowardly as it's possible to get.
Bob Hope, literally bobbing along |
Case in point |
Having re-established my credentials as a hair-splitting pedant, we shall now move on.
You What?
As you are probably aware, it takes very little, even nothing on occasion, to annoy Conrad. A day without an episode of explosive rage is a day wasted, in my book.
So! It was with tremendous delight that I came across a hoarding that pumped up my venom levels to 11:
Maybe even 12. |
OH NO IT ISN'T!
Bonfire Night has not even passed yet. And these witless ululating*** baffoons are trying to use up the remaining time I have on this planet even more quickly? A plague on them! A pair of plagues on them! May their life end up being run by
Oops. Over 1,000 words. And I had so much more to give! Maybe tomorrow.
Chin chin!
* Which are of decidedly lower quality.
** Conrad deeply commiserates with you and hopes at least your climate is good, as things are already looking bad for you.
*** Noisy howling <translation from Pseud by Mister Hand>
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