Hail, Lady President!

No, You Baffoons
"President" not "Prime Minister"; please recall that this is BOOJUM! where we pride ourself on our SFW status, complete lack of logic and stern avoidance of Religion, Politics and Current Affairs.  So this is not a commentary on Theresa May ("Aye! Hamster") or Andrea Leadsom ("Real Dead Mason").
     "Ah!"  I hear you comment.  "It's about Hilary Clinton, then?"
     NO!  Politics and Current Affairs - which of those don't you recognise?  Go away and come back when you can be clever.  Or at least sensible.
     No, in the spirit of all things Iceland - I'm listening to Sigur Ros's "Kveikur" as I type - I refer you to the world's first female president, Vigdis Finbogadottir.  Art?

Ma'am!

     That's a name to conjure with, hmmm?  I'm too busy writing the blog but it would be an interesting exercise to see what you could contort it into.
     Okay, Intro over, on with the slander and obloquy!  Oh, and the motley, too.

Hong Kong Phooey - Felon, Thief - MURDERER!
Sorry to ruin your childhood for you.  The truth can hurt.
     I shall set forth my case.  HKP possesses a Fantastic Transmogrifying Vehicle, I think you'll allow me that.

In helicopter mode

     Now, if HKP had actually invented or genuinely owned this Fantastic Transmogrifying Vehicle, do you REALLY think he'd be slumming it as a janitor?  No, he'd have sold the patent rights for $millions.  So, he stole it.  Why doesn't he still try to flog it?  And why does he use it so openly and frequently?  Because he's not worried about the real owner coming after him, which can only mean one thing:
     Hong Kong Phooey is a MURDERER!

"Curses!  My secret is out!"

     All that costumed vigilante derring-do is just a desperate attempt to salve his conscience and redeem himself.  And the reason he hangs out pushing a mop and bucket in a police station?  So he can keep a weather eye and ear open in case the police generate any leads in The Case Of The Transmogrifying Machine Murderer.
     What we really need is -

Yeah!

     And once more I rest my case.

Once More Of Coincidence I Sing
And sing falsetto, as that bloody Coincidence Hydra hasn't taken it's fangs out of my behind ALL WEEK!
     "Okay, Conrad, calm down, wipe the froth from your lips and the sweat from your brow, and tell us how the Universe is once again playing tricks upon you."
     It was spray cream, I'll have you know.  Anyway - but first let me get another cup of tea -
    Okay.  One of the folks I work with has the surname "Moorhouse".  I won't give his forename as he's a shy and sensitive chap.  Anyway, it's not exactly a common name, I'm sure you'll agree, so I was a tad surprised to see a van with it's livery proudly declaring "MOORHOUSE".  Not a surprise to J - to Mister Moorhouse, who enquired if it was purveying Jam, Beer or Building; Beer, I think.

     This is not all, oh no.  Take a look at this Cryptic Crossword:

     "Hey!  You missed one!" I hear you crow.
     Yes yes yes, that's not the point!  What is my recent purchase "Amphibious Assault Falklands" about - yes that's right, Task Force TG317.  What do I describe BOOJUM! as?  "Scribbled drivel", emphasis on the latter word.
     I rest my case*.

Hello Darkness My Old Fiend
The lights are out, across the whole atrium.  Art?

Fifteen of them all dead at once.  Tut!

     Given the unholy delay it takes to remove and replace a SINGLE burnt-out bulb, I can't see the whole lot replaced in less than 10 to the 29th power Universe lifetimes.  Fiat lux, indeed.  If the Lord Almighty had subcontracted the Dawn of Creation to the folks who replace our lightbulbs, he still be waiting, tapping his fingers.

Sweet Thing
I shall be ambiguous about that phrase.  Do I mean these -

     - or do I mean the lady who brought them back for me?  Me me me, not you, me**.
 The lady in question is of course Anna (sparing her blushes, no surnames here) who is genuinely as nice on the inside as she is on the outside.
     Conrad, who had pestered her to bring back something nice from Barcelona (which is where she went to, and thus didn't have to make a diversion to get there from elsewhere) felt a bit guilty, but only a bit as his conscience only works between 14:30 and 16:20.
     I did resist the urge to inflict an overdose of schmaltz on proceedings when she gave me the above, as I did toy with the idea of saying " - but you've brought us back the most wonderful thing of all - yourself!" at which point I'd probably have been frowned at severely and given a slap round the chops.


*  And also my teeth-tattered buttocks.
**  Forgive Conrad a bit of gloasting, he rarely gets presents.