In this case I am actually referring to myself, as I usually bother the internet rather earlier in the afternoon on a Saturday. Thus the "Don't Panic!" goes out to all of you* suffering from a lack of whimsy, bad puns, birds talking in English and worries about all the military intelligence agencies of Europe camping outside the Mansion with mischeivous intent.
"Phew!" I can hear you saying in relief. "So the NSA, GSG, GROM, UNIT and OVRA haven't had you in an interrogation cell all day long. We are so relieved!"
Really? You don't look distraught at all. Not one bit. |
Not distra - I SAID YOU'RE - are you paying me any attention at all? |
The "Don't Panic!" is of course from DAD'S ARMY and most certainly not that Johhny-come-lately "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", although since DAD'S ARMY is a British institution I bet Douglas Adams had seen it and was
What A Remarkable Coincidence!
Isn't it strange. I leave the door to the Upstairs Lair ajar, and Edna is nowhere to be seen. Out of sight, out of mind. No sooner do I rustle the wrapper of a Sesame Snap (hand-made by skilled tradesmen in Poland) than -
Hay Pesto! She appears again. I suspect I could rustle the wrapper off a packet of razor blades and she'd still put in an appearance. Just to see what's going on in the world, of course, nothing more than that.
Conrad: The Spectre At The Feast
Oooh, get me, being all Shakespearean and all. What I mean is that I've booked to go attend a musical event on March 7th, put on by workmate Ian, who has now left work.
Toby the musician. Conrad not sure about the beard. Grown for warmth? |
So! This time I have booked in advance.
Let me go even further and add a link to the Facebook Event page -
https://www.facebook.com/events/1395917417382695/
You are quite welcome to attend, as long as you are well-behaved and do not ricochet around the room in a manner akin to a pinball, claiming it to be "dancing". This is because I will be the oldest person in the room and any over-exertion is liable to kill me dead, me being decrepit and all.
Konrad's Kidneys
To my mind this lot look a bit - sinister. |
Instead we have more of my internal organs holding forrth! You should be used to this by now, after Brain, Liver and Stomach**. I say, chaps, care to comment?
SINISTER: That ought to be "Kare to Komment" -
DEXTER: - for hilarious comic effect.
S: We're SpongeGob's kidneys and we -
D: - have the annoying habit of finishing -
S: - off each other's sentences. Twins -
D: - you see. There has to be two of us -
S: - to cope with Fat - o! I beg your pardon - SpongeGob's drinking. Even when sober -
D: - good Lord does he drink. Tea, coffee, Marmite -
S: - lemonade, water, Aloe Vera. Good job as kidney's we're not venal -
D: - although we are renal. That's Greek for "kidney"
S: - which we said already. Or did we?
I'm Kalling the Kurtain down on our Komic Kouple, that's Kwite Kenough***.
2000 AD's Kid Knee. Frankly, far more entertaining than Conrad's blathering internal organs. |
* Yes I mean both of you!
** Sounds like a recipe for haggis.
*** THe "K" in "Kenough" is silent.
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