IT IS NOT CHRISTMAS!

Just So We're Clear
It is still November.  Not the very end of November, with December just around the corner, it's mid-November.  We have only just got over those Licenced Begging Events Halloween and Bonfire Night, and it's still weeks and weeks until 25th December.
     I realise that this is stating the obvious, rather like "water is wet" or "do woolly bears have an omnivorous diet" or "one of physics' constants is the charge of an electron", but it bears repeating.

The Sun.  Asserting that it will rise tomorrow is a pretty safe bet.

     Now, I draw your attention to this fact because the advertising world, not to mention the supermarket world, AND the broadcast media world, all appear to think that we are living in an accelerated time-stream where it has been, and continues to be, 25th December for weeks, if not months.  Conrad excuses his referral to Current Affairs by pointing out this phenomenon has been taking place for decades.  The television guide has been sporting Christmas-themed films for weeks and there is a whole channel titled "Christmas".
     May I gently remind you that my allotted span upon this Earth is not infinite, and Time's Winged Chariot is probably waiting just around the corner with the meter running*, so - DO NOT SPEED UP TIME!
     Thank you.  That is all.

Times Winged Chariot.  MOT failure.

Doctor Who: Sleep No More
There's your first coincidence right there.  What is Conrad's favourite band of all time?  Why The Comsat Angels, of course.  What is regarded as one of their best-ever records?  Why "Sleep No More", of course.
     There may be more to this than meets the eye.  Mark Kermode is a big, big fan of the Comsats.  He works at the BBC.  Mark Gatiss wrote this episode.  Mark Gatiss also works at the BBC.  Join the dots.

Proof.
Proof of what, I'm not sure, but!  Proof all the same

     I'm not going to do a blow-by-blow account of the episode as that would take all night and I have important things to do**.  Let us begin by addressing what must surely be an in-joke: the investigation and rescue team assigned to the Le Vessier Station amount to exactly - four.
     Yes, four.  This harks back, I believe, to the cash-strapped days of the Seventies when the script read "A crowd assembles" and we saw five people on-screen.  Very wry, Mark!
     I also have to give him props for creating an interesting 38th Century society where India and Japan are the world's primary superpowers, which means our rescue team (if you can call four a "team") are all of necessity those nationalities.  The commander, Nagata, speaks in a mild Geordie accent (as a thick one would need subtitles) because - er - because - this reflects regional Japanese dialects?

Ms Nagata off-duty and being not-shooty

     Our heroes - The Doctor and Clara, do keep up - run into the rescuers and the Sandmen, at which my notes read:"why don't you SHOOT it with your GUNS! The great big GUNS you carry around to be all SHOOTY with."

One club.  Over-engineered, still a club

     Deep-Ando is killed by the Sandmen, not knowing what a "gun" is, nor how to use one, nor what it does.  Nor does the Grunt 474, except to use it as a kind of very expensive club.  Mind what you're doing there, matey, Jim Kirk would have know what to do with it!
     The ending caught me by surprise, as I confidently expected to see "To Be Continued" appear on-screen.  "None of this makes sense!" said The Doctor, and Conrad agreed.  I suppose the end revelations of Prof. Rasmussen were supposed to tie up the loose plot ends; well they didn't, and you'd need a mechelin lace expert to manage that.
     Still, the sight of his disintegrating face was a good creepy finish.

Good job it was on after the watershed ...

Good lord, how prose-heavy are we!  Quick, nurse, the screens, and a stiff gin and tonic whilst you're up, ta.  Pictures!

How Funny Am I
This is a rhetorical question that you do not have to answer, although if you could see your way to adding in a complimentary Comment that would be fine.

"Tastes a bit oily"

     I imagine that the Promotions and Distribution departments would need to work overtime on this one ...

Your Help Appreciated
Conrad, as you surely know by now, is fond of eating. Anything that doesn't actually explode on contact, isn't infested with nerve gas or comes alive after midnight and tries to eat you is on the menu, especially - extra-specially! - if it's going cheap.
     Thus my secret shame.

     I've bought these and - er - I don't know what to do with them.  Roast, boil, sautee, broil, toast, bash?  I have no idea, it's just that they were down to 1/4 their normal price and I couldn't resist.

You Must Be Balmy
Ha!  I amuse myself!  The rest of the world - well, perhaps not so much.  See here -

     The top photo is the ingredients list of this little bottle, which doesn't have anything present to give it scale.  About three inches high, gentle reader.  And the list of chemicals on the back has been sustaining BOOJUM! for weeks, positively weeks!
     Sadly I doubt I'll find another list of mysterious and enigmatic chemicals on-the-back-of-the-packet novel enough in future, unless I come across some hideous imported American foodstuff with more additives than - oh - wait a minute -

* "Conrad is getting old" - translation courtesy Mister Hand.
** Yes!  More important than blogging!