Euronly Making It Worse ...

Work With Me Here, This Takes A Bit Of Explaining
On occasion at the Pub Quiz, Conrad has had to get up and play the pub version of Play Your Cards Right - guess if the next hidden card is higher or lower, for a run of 8 cards.  Having only won a couple of times in several years of playing (and drinking, it must be admitted) I would much rather fail early on than lose on the last card.
     "Where is he going with this?" I hear you question.  "We don't really want to hear about Conrad's social life, such as it is."
     Jumping metaphorical tracks like a dynamited locomotive, Conrad would like to point out to you that both the Welsh and English football teams are into the next round of Euro 2016 - hence the title of tonight's blog.  

A suprisingly apt metaphor for Conrad's mind
(Or should that be "mined"?)

     I refer you back to the Play Your Cards Right analogy.  It would have been so much easier on the nerves of all those poor suffering fans if both hadn't been successful.  Now they have to put up with the torment of the next stage.
     On the other hand the Ruffians got a sound drubbing, which is like a drubbing except worse.  Tsar Putin is probably secretly pleased as the Ruffian fans have no excuse to behave raucously, meaning that football thing taking place in Russia sometime in the future (Conrad's evident lack of any sporting knowledge is pretty much to the fore here) is no longer under threat.
     Now, having dealt handily with both Politics and Current Affairs, let the motley kick off*!

The Travails Of Travel
O I have a tale of woe.  Not of tonight, although the 24 was a single-decker instantly rammed with passengers that consequently left early, but of last night.  What a story.
     THE BUS BLEW UP! Or, it would have done if it continued.  All was not well with the 182 as it paused for five minutes at a random bus stop, engine racing.  Upon turning into Broadway the engine stopped and every passenger got off, including your humble scribe.  "Run out of water," explained the bus driver, which is hilariously - or hideously, take your pick - ironic given our climate.  It seems that these vehicles are on the road for about 20 hours per day and they are thirsty beasts.

And here is the proof, gentle reader

     Predictably, although a First engineer was loose on Broadway and had been informed of our gasping metal steed, the next 181 and 182 caught up with us.  The 181 was an already-full single decker - way to go, First, at peak times! - so your modest artisan caught the 182 and got off in Royton, where the next 409 failed to appear.  Got home 2 hours after leaving work.
     Once again skipping tracks like a turntable on a volcano, Conrad is still reading "On Thermonuclear War" and can only thank the Lord aloft that First were never permitted to tender for anything to do with ICBM's**. Picture the scene in the White House, @ 1955 ...

PRESIDENTIAL AIDE:  Mister President!  Mister President!
PRESIDENT EISENHOWER:  Dammit, doesn't anyone bother to knock nowadays?
PA: Sir - it's the First Anti-Ballistic Missile System -
IKE: Oh, yeah, FABMISS.  Aptly named.  Broken down again?
PA:  No, sir.  Not at all. They got it working.
IKE:  Whoah!  Steady on son, let me get back on my chair. Only five years late and ten billion over budget.
PA:  Well, sir, it identified a flock of geese as an all-out Russian attack, and - er - nuked them into vapour.
IKE:  Son, you just defined face-palm.  Sheesh.  Well, at least things can't get - what?  What!
PA: Er, except for one stray missile, sir.  Which is heading for Moscow.
IKE: WHAT! Great Jehosophat! Give me that phone, it's the hot-line to the Kremlin <dials>
     "Hello there!  This is Mike's Bar And Grill, on the Melbourne waterfront, ready and able to meet all your catering needs -"
IKE:  Lemme guess.  We outsourced phones to First, too?
PA: Yes, sir.  Sorry, sir.
IKE:  Sheesh.  Well, it's a First missile so we know it may not get there, or go off if it does.

     I do like a President who doesn't swear***.

I Got Proof!
Remember Conrad getting the billy-crinning-wim-wams over a suggestion by Onken that one ought to allow the yoghurt to eat you?  You should do, it was recent.  Art?

Beggar off!

     As I said earlier, Conrad is very old school about this.  Observe this hapless Onken Strawberry victim -

About to get et

     Conrad wrapped himself around the yoghurt, NOT THE OTHER WAY ROUND!  Which is as things should be.

You What?
Yesterday, Facebook laughingly informed me that it was the first - no let us do this seemingly - The First Day Of Summer.
     Really.
     Take a look at this picture.  Art?

Soggy and boggy

     The rain bounced off me as I could see my own breath.  
     Of course the joke was on Conrad, as by hometime it was too hot to wear my jacket, and these temperature extremes probably cause overheating in motor vehicles, which is where we came in ...



*  Do you see what I - O you do.
**  Inter Continental Ballistic Missiles, not Ice Cream Breakfast Man (i.e. me)
***  And yes, I know the hot-line wasn't installed until 1963.  So sue me!