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Posting A Little Late
I have this evening been partaking of a quiz, yet not as usual at The Halfway House.  No, tonight I was in the company of colleagues at My Enormous Yet Still Un-Named Employer*.  A quiz for charity, with nibbles, and a few bottles of sparkling water.
     At least it started with sparkling water, until your modest artisan had fortified himself with a few bowls of crisps and popcorn and chocolate biscuits, and then the free wine flowed freely.  
     "Gosh, Conrad!" I can hear your jealous tones.  "Free wine and an intellectual challenge to boot!  Why don't you try a cryptic crossword if you like intellectual challenges?"
     Pausing briefly to note your ISP so I can come round and have some words, because I have been regularly boasting ABOUT DOING CRYPTIC CROSSWORDS of late, and because the pause also allows that vein throbbing on my temple to calm a little, let us move on.

Here is the EVIDENCE!

     In total there were about 30 of us and between us and the raffle we raised £300, although our team (the "Dead Parrots") came joint third, so it was a bittersweet symphony, except with less Andrew Loog Oldham stealing money.
     I did feel bad for Liam, because the results were announced in reverse order, us and two other teams hitting 81 points.
     "YEAH!" he yelled.  "What's the tiebreaker going to be?  What's the tiebreaker going to be?"
     His sad face when he realised the true state of play.  Bless his quivering little chin.  
     "Do bear up, Liam!" I cautioned him.  "Here's a tissue."
     In an interesting aside, we finished at 7 p.m. and guess who was still working away over at Service Delivery even then?  No!  Not Clarissa the Cannibal Combat Chicken, Anna, that's who, the blog's favourite Scarlet Lady**.  What a work ethic that gal has!

"Gambrel"
NO!  Not what illiterates do in a casino.  It's a type of roof, and - once again I apologise for words that suddenly pop up in my head - it occurred to Conrad that H. P. Lovecraft had mentioned this type of roofing in his fictional towns of the eastern American seaboard.
     "What kind of roof is it?" pondered your humble scribe.
     This kind:

Hmmm.  Not sure about the girly paint scheme

A kind of roof with a shallowly-pitched upper part and a steeper lower section, on only two sides:  if it were on four sides it would be a Mansard Roof.  As you recall from an earlier blog***.

"Allegiant"?  How About "Aberrant"?
Bah!  You can tell what demographic the studio suits are looking for the instant your eye falls upon the poster full of Bright Young Things, airbrushed and Photoshopped to perfection.  May the Devil damn them Dog Bun-coloured!
     Conrad suggests an alternate title for this wretched film, "Aberrant", meaning "Wrongful behaviour".  From the Latin, of course, "Ab" for "Away" and "Errare" for "To stray", which I find apt even if a bit catty^.

Yeah!  Just like that!

"Killer Elite" By Michael Smith
If you have been reading BOOJUM! recently, which is the only way to escape mental slavery or organ-harvesting when my invasion fleet gets here, then you will recall this work I bought last week.  Or was it this week?  Time gets telescoped strangely when you're in combat ...
     Anyway, I have now finished it and it's description of "The Activity" a.k.a. the "Intelligence Support Activity", a very very covert bunch of South Canadians indeed.  They change their name the way you and I change shirts.  One lesson Conrad has drawn from reading this work is to beware of military units or organisations that have bland, non-specific names.  ISA's specialism is Signals Intelligence: use a radio, a mobile phone or a fibre-optic cable in their presence and they will triangulate your position before you finish saying "Hello".

Either he can levitate or -
No.  He can levitate.

     Another example is the "Naval Warfare Development Group", which sounds like a bunch of pocket-protector wearing geeks in an office who play wargames with model ships.  Wrong.  They used to be called SEAL Team Six; if you are up to armed mischief these are the chaps who will come swinging in through the windows accompanied by loud bangs.
     The book finishes a bit limply in 2006, with the hunt for Mister Bin still ongoing.
     We know how that ended ...

 - or do we -

* Not bad after nearly 3 years, eh?
** Hair colour not morals.  Just so we're clear.
*** If you know what's good for you.
^ I think this is pretty good for a Dull Old Fat Man.