Coldfinger

 Ha!  Gotcha
Maybe.  If I was after a punny title I'd have possibly gone for "Golfinger", after reporting yesterday on Nick Hughes' analysis of almost-said film.  I have been watching it*, and found that observing Auric Goldfinger whilst he plays Our James at golf was most illuminating.  Goldfinger and Oddjob make a particularly corrupt pair of scoundrels, having obviously practiced deceit and skullduggery enough in the past to need no more than a nod and wink to cheat at golf.

Oh!  A real thing.

     Yes.  Goldfinger is a cad.  There, said it.  This, in polite British company, is about as hateful and critical a term as it's possible to use**.  He deserves it for cheating, and it's only because Our James is a bigger, better cheat that old Goldie does not prosper.  
     He's a very bad loser, too, which is jolly un-British as well - don't forget "It's not whether you won or lost, it's how you played the game", as a handy moral compass.  All told, I suspect that old Goldie is going to come to a sticky end.  Cheats and prospering and all that.  Yes, James does cheat but that's in the service of HM Government, which makes it okay.
     "Yes, Conrad, your barely-comprehensible ravings over James Bond films aside, what has any of this to do with the title?" I can hear you say.
     It's cold in the Upstairs Lair, and despite hammering away on the keyboard, your humble scribe's fingers are cold.  Makes them a bit stiff and liable to commit typos, don't you know.

In fact, to limber the digits up a tad, I am now going to go make a pot of tea.  Back in five minutes.

You What? Indeed
I have a selection of screenshots to post now, and yes I can tell what you're thinking already - "Oh I say Conrad, filling the blog up with pictures, really, it's just not done."  May I point out that this isn't Instagram and that the pictures here come complete with hilarious caption and attached text?
     Thank you so much.  Now, the pictures - if that's okay with you? It is?  Gosh I'm so pathetically grateful for your acquiesence***!

"Let's play the Nutella game!"

     Actually let's NOT.  Conrad hates Nutella with a passion and one of the signs that the Apocalypse is soon to arrive were the Parisian crepe vendors selling crepes and assuming that your ardent traveller wanted Nutella on them.  NO!
     Okay, that's my Nutella-phobic credentials established.  Where on earth, or elsewhere in the solar system for that matter, have I ever expressed an interest in playing stupid games based on a disgusting brown spreadable paste?  I like ginger jam - do you see any plaintive wails from me on the lack of Ginger Jam Games?
     BAH!

The Foobs Get It Right -
Don't look too surprised, a First Bus timetable will get published one day that accurately reflects reality, too.  By then, of course, protective headgear will be essential due to all the flying pigs; although you could console yourself with the best-selling Collected Werks of Shakespeer by An Orang.
     The meat of the matter -

A fox advertising beer named after a chicken.  Obviously!

    I have now started on my keg of Old Speckled Hen, which means I have today and tomorrow to finish it - according to the health warning on the side.  Well, you know Conrad - food safety is an exciting challenge, not a warning!

 - Twice In A Row
By golly, this is a thing of wonder -

Tankfest!

     You should all know by now that Conrad is a big fan of tanks armoured fighting vehicles, and has been to Bovvie^ twice to see the static installations.  Tankfest brings out the "runners", those vehicles that have been restored and repaired to the extent that they are able to move under their own power.  Seeing a 50 ton Chieftan doing 50 m.p.h. round the venue is likely to induce an air of "Oh My!" in observers, particularly those who hail from what used to be the other side of the Iron Curtain.

 - And Then They Fluff It
Back to usual, then.  Here we have an advert for study at Leeds University, doing an Art course.  

I wonder - would our Art benefit?

     Conrad is a bit long in the tooth to do a degree at university again, and why would he venture across the Pennines into what is practically enemy territory, when there is Manchester Metropolitan squarely here in Lancashire?

"Comminuted"
Ah yes my besetting sin - looking at the ingredients list on the back of foodstuffs.  Here's one on the back of a pop bottle banging on about "Comminuted lemons".
     What does it mean?  Apparently, "broken down into very small particles".  From Latin, of course, "Com" and "Minuere" meaning "Together" and "Lessen".
     It does have other uses.  For example, if you don't continue to keep reading the blog, Conrad will undertake to comminute you and use the result on our allotment.

A splendid crop of non-readers

* Goldfinger, that is.
** Possibly why polite British chemists blush when talking about Cadmium.
*** Sarcasm laid on with a JCB bucket
^ Bovington Tank Museum to the rest of you