As Harry Hill Would Say -

What Are The Chances Of That Happening?
I presume that Harry is merely asking a rhetorical question here, and doesn't want a detailed lecture about The Law Of Large Numbers, probability and the effects of chance, not to mention determinism, eschatology and where your lap goes when you stand up.
     Well, he's not getting any of that here!

Harry, saddened by Conrad's cruel rejection.

     "What are we getting, then?" I can hear you asking, for you lot are nothing if not curious and skeptical.
     Yesterday's coincidence, dear reader, passed off as today's fresh fare.  Don't quibble too much, there's no expiry date on what the Universe might be trying to tell your humble scribe.  I do wish it would use social media instead.  Less room for misinterpretation.
     Coincidence Number One:  I overheard an employer asking Catherine for a reference for an ex-employee called Julia.  Julia Kopperkettle, let us call her.  No, you baffoon, that's not her real surname!  Catch me using that here.  She used to work alongside Conrad in the Careers Service, when he was younger and thinner, a couple of decades ago.  Given that there are 80,000 staff at my Coyly Anonymous Employer, with probably as many as that again who are ex-employees, the chances are spectacularly low.
     But what's this?  Another coincidence!
     Coincidence Number Two:  walking into the Co-Op shop on Church Street, I bump into Theresa.  Theresa Olleringringshaw, let us call her.  No, you baffoon, that's not her real surname!  Catch me using that.  It must be 10 years since we last worked together in Connexions at Salford, and a good 6 years since I last met her.
     Conrad Clinkerhoffen* is now looking uneasily over his shoulder.  
     What's next?

Coincidence is too hard to illustrate.
Here's Ida Lupino, one of the almost unique female film directors of the 50s

More Sweets
There were sweets provided yesterday, mostly gone by this morning, and more were provided today courtesy of Tom.  Thank you, Tom.  Conrad was especially well-placed, being but an outstretched arm from the "gelees", whilst also being within reach of all the spare cupcakes from our staff event.

     Conrad is not quite sure about the branding and description here, as "Morbide gelatine" sounds - well, a little off-putting.

"Quibble"
As used in the first topic above, of course you know it means to raise a minor objection.  Conrad, as curious as a concatenation of cats, wondered where it came from, and of course the answer is - Latin.  It's apparently a punning take on the Latin words "Quae, quod and qui" for who, where and what, as used extensively in legal documents.  So it's a little gentle mockery of legal terms.
     Conrad is a bit ambivalent** about mocking legals, as they will surely sue you for libel.  Quietly murdering muldering them is probably the safer option.

"Excuse me?"

Bastille Meet Pompeii Meet Bastille
A little confusing, I grant you, so allow me to explain.  Youtube brought up the suggestion "Bastille Pompeii" which pleased Conrad as he'd forgotten both the band and the title of this particular song.  Now, I don't know which name is the band, nor which is the song, and in the spirit of BOOJUM! I'm not going to bother looking, either.
     Rock 'n' roll rebel, eh?

Bastille

     Whilst I like the song, the video to accompany it is a bit naff.  A chap with a silly haircut - picture a scared cat sitting upright - runs away from people because their eye-whites turn black.  Then he cycles away, then he drives away.  Frankly, this is not persuasive.  For one thing, which Conrad can tell you from bitter personal experience, if their eyes are matte black, then you don't need to worry; if their eyes are glowing red, then you're about to get the twin-laser-implant bolts of doom.

Pompeii

     Then again, Our Hero is rather on the weedy side, and looks as if wrestling the lid of a jam-jar would be beyond him, and a rather scary episode of Doctor Who would have him seeking psychiatric help.  The people "threatening" him seem fully as dangerous as the inside of a Walnut Whip.
     Good song, though.

A Rare Political Moment For BOOJUM!
As you ought to know by now, we here - no, I don't mean the royal "we"*** - avoid politics, religion and current affairs, as these are heavy subjects that invariably divide an audience and either raise tempers to fighting pitch or cause instant sleep.  So!  Meet a South Canadian politician!

"Republican Presidential Candidate John Kisch promises to reunite Pink Floyd if elected!

     Conrad is not eligible to vote in South Canada, and his status in the UK is a bit hazy, being a camouflaged alien spy and all, but he looks on at Mister Kisch with some bemusement.  "Pray tell!" I her you ask, as my alien ears are quite acute.
     Okay - Point One:  Sid Barrett, poor old mad Sid, is dead.  He was the original driving force behind the band in their early years.
     Point Two:  Rick Wright, keyboard player, is also dead these many years.
     Point Three:  and this really is the kicker - Dave Gilmour and Roger Waters loathed each other with an actinic passion.  God only knows what silver-tongued blarney Sir Bob Geldoff deployed to get them back performing on Liveaid.  I think Roger is willing to bury the hatchet, but Dave only seems interested in his hatchet being firmly buried in Roger.
     Still, the President Of The United States is a powerful chap.  I imagine that Delta Force and the CIA might one day get a mission brief from President Kisch .....

Pink Floyd -
AT POMPEII!^

*  No, you baffoon!  Not my real surname.  Catch me using that.
** Which is doubtless derived from Latin as well.
*** There's Conrad, Oscar, Art, Mister Hand as well as the Guard Hog and Hard Hog, who are still around, just not mentioned that much.
^ You see?  How everything is connected?  Aren't I clever! Aren't I?