Euro 1856

No, Nothing To Do With Football!
Okay, I lied, a little bit to do with football, but it's hardly worth mentioning.  Nor is that a 24-hour clock time, instead it refers to the year 1856.  Don't worry, I'll come back to that in a minute.
     Well, it all appears to be kicking off in Europe*.  The English and - what to call them, they're not the Sinisters any more - AH!  The Ruffians - have been at each others throats of late.  Whilst not official this is the first overt conflict between these two nations since the Crimean War, which ended in 1856.

The English attempting to borrow a cup of sugar from Russians btewing up

     Here an aside.  I recall, during the Sinister's occupation of Afghanistan, a Sinister general displaying a ton of surveillance and communications gear they'd captured.  Sadly for the Sinisters, no bodies to go with the kit which had SO obviously been hastily abandoned by the SAS, and it was all off-the-shelf stuff that anyone with enough £££ could have bought.  You could see the gears roiling around in this officer's head: he knew who this stuff belonged to, he just couldn't prove it**.

     The Crimean War featured not only the Siege of Sevastopol, the celebrated (and idiotic) Charge of the Light Brigade, but also the Battle of Balaclava, which gave the world it's first fabric helmet.   And which seemed peculiarly relevant in light of the at-each-other's-throats bit.  It involved the Ruffians, the French, the English, the Turks, some Greeks and the Sardinians, who are today Italian, so a bit proto-Euro of itself.
     Note to sinister Ruffians - you lost!

The Crimean War's fashion crime

Controversy!  Contumely!  Contradictions!
That's Conrad in a nutshell, able to reverse his position in less time than it takes to tell.  All the moral firmness of a weathercock in a tornado.
      "What ho!" I hear you chorus.  "Old chap, you're really breaching that No Current Affairs rule."
     Yes I am.  It's MY blog.
     "Tho' those rapscallion Russian rascals deserve it, what?  How can they ever redeem themselves?"
     Simples.  Vodka.

"On Thermonuclear War" By Herman Kahn
Conrad is doing well, up to page 435.  Herm is now looking back at past wars to see if he can project them forward, as it were, in order to predict possible future issues.  He takes the mobilisation plans of the European powers prior to the First Unpleasantness as a case in point: A mobilises against B who then mobilises which means C has to mobilise against A and B because the railway timetables don't permit otherwise.  This being a caution about rushing into a 1960 declaration of war or the rather terrifying concept of "Launch On Warning".
     For the Second Unpleasantness, Herm looks briefly at mines and how their use developed with mention of the countermeasures involved - the mine-detector wire on a stick, the Bangalore Torpedo, the Giant Viper, the Enormous Tank-mounted Mine Rollers - and concludes that mines in defence had the upper hand.

Giant Viper.  Really.

     Er - Herm?  You neglected to mention the <ahem> British flail tank, the Crab.  Very effective indeed at clearing mines. ta very much.  The original, as used in the Desert War, had the added bonus of throwing up an enormous concealing cloud of dust, and howling like the population of Hades on a day out.

Also makes short work of stubborn carpets

"Oh My Appetite -"
Conrad has been moaning to anyone who stands still long enough to claim that, after his Day Of Sickness (and these are so rare that it does, indeed, demand capitalisation) his appetite has been right off.  Why yesterday I only had a pint of yoghurt, a couple of gherkins, a tin of sardines, a Tunnock caramel wafer, a chicken sandwich and a couple of gherkins for lunch.  Imagine that!

Remaindered chicken: the best kind

     That's only three drumsticks and four thighs.  Barely enough to keep body and soul together.

I Beg Your Pardon?
Conrad had to loiter outside the Oxfam shop this evening, as the 24 was late (again), although we should probably be pathetically grateful that it turned up at all, and was a double-decker.  This was important later on as we picked up another double-decker's passengers after it broke down.  The First Inspector I asked about the 24 admitted he'd got no idea whether it would turn up or not, or even when.
     Conrad put his waiting minutes to good use, as see this:

Something of a niche market, one feels

     "Design, Construction" and that word being obscured is "Maintenance".
     A bargain for £40, or so Conrad assumes, as he's got no idea whatsoever about the market for Rail publications. Just look at that chap on the cover, though:  what a happy smiling engineer he is!  He's an inspiration to us all.  Let's all be like that smiley engineer!




* Do you see what I - O you do.
**  Heh.