How To Rate Your Mad Scientist Minion

We'll Get To That Shortly
Firstly, a bit of a redux about Manchester Comic Con.  I didn't add this in yesterday due to not thinking of it at the time, so, since my subconscious has had a night to work on it, you get to reap the benefits.
     Knives!  Swords!  Big choppers!  and all that ilk, edged weapons I believe the collectors call them.  A going concern.  It's possible to ignore all the exotic firearms - although that stormtrooper lugging about an MG34 replica might well cause your local police firearms officer to feel a bit twitchy -

Yup, replica MG34 indeed

     - thank you, Art - as all those blasters and lasers and phased plasma rifles are none functional.  We hope.  Imagine the mess if there was a negligent discharge from a 40-watt - well, non-functional is the word.
     Now, whilst those firearms might make for expensively-tooled, precision-engineered clubs, the same cannot be said of the sharp things present.  Sharp pointy things retain their stabby utility whether it's 2000 BC or AD, and sheer metal mass grants them effectiveness even if their edge is dulled.

Because swords, men and beer combined  never caused an accident, ever.

     This rather pales by comparison with the San Diego Comic Con, held recently, where the mighty Bruce Campbell was in attendance.  This meant dozens of Ash impersonators, which also means - Shotguns! - cue further police twitchiness - and - Chainsaws!
     Given the weight of a chainsaw those can't be the real thing, can they?

Unclear if prop or not.
We'll cross fingers and guess "prop"

     There is a safer (if more boring) alternative.  Art?

Meh.

     Now, before we get to the Mad Scientist bait, I must tell you about today's travel trauma.  No, sorry, there's no choice, it's got to be endured.  So - SIT BACK DOWN!

A Tale Of The 24
When the 24 bus turned up on time this morning, being a double-decker and with copies of The Metro to boot, what could possibly go wrong?
     Yeah, Conrad, you had to ask.
     Firstly, the ticket machine didn't work, so no bus pass.  Well, at least a free ride into work - bonus!
     Except - sniff sniff - what's that nasty smell?
     (Here I should point out, gentle reader, that Conrad has practically no sense of smell and if he notices a stink, it is truly noticeable).
     Smells like burning plastic.
     Oh it is burning plastic -
     "There's an electrical fault," announced the driver, so we passengers all decamped from the bus to witness black smoke oozing sullenly from the engine.  One more stop and we'd have been at the 181/182 stop, which I could have caught into Manchester.  However, I don't doubt the 24 would have been a mobile bonfire by that time, so - small mercies.

An artist's impression

     No free ride - bogus!
     Although, as Pete observed, things would have been hairier had Keanu and Samantha been present.

How Mad Is Mad?
Does a world dictator/continental despot/absolute ruler need to keep testing his mad scientist minion, just to make sure he's not going completely potty (draining-the-Atlantic Ocean-into-the-Earth's-core kind of potty) or even sliding into remission (putting out a fire at the orphanage)?  Oh, and we are definitely only employing one Mad Scientist here, the classical Supreme Leader model of old, because today's Mad Science all seems to be dreamt up by committee, which is dull.

The Mad Scientist's Mad Scientist

     Further to this, there ought to be a rating scale, measured in <thinks deep thoughts> "Fausts".  Let us enumerate:

     0 - 1 Fausts:  A trifle eccentric.  Wears odd socks.  Forgets birthdays, wears fingerless mittens.  Almost a Good Guy
     1 - 3 Fausts:  A bit barking.  Wears a metal Gadget Guantlet, forgets what year it is, can be provoked into killing when enraged.  Quite Bad.
     4 - 5 Fausts:  Bad and Mad.  Wears a human suit.  Hands replaced by Skull-Crusher Horror Holders*.  Unsafe if left unsupervised in Lab.  Possible challenge to Supreme Leader.
     6 - 7 Fausts:  Evil and unpredictable.  Hands are now detachable Supersonic Stealth Stranglers.  Forgets own name.  Liable to vaporise minions on a whim.  Definite challenge to Supreme Leader.
     8 - 9 Fausts:  Usually already Supreme Leader.  Hands now normal but eyes replaced by laser cannon.  Fond of torture, perversion and opera.  Kills at random to keep minions keen and interested.  Sole weakness is sprouts.
     10 Fausts:  Satan in a lab coat.  Forgets which universe he owns.  Having rendered sprouts extinct, is now worried about brocolli.  Destroys whole plants at random.  Sole weakness is spelling.
     
Finally
I know Bryn Hammond as an author of military history.  Not personally, you understand, or I'd not dare be so rude about him.  He's also a lot sportier than your humble scribe, which is not difficult, and posted this on Twitter:

???

     An example of the mysteries of sport, and cricket especially.  Sadly I cannot ask Phil, my Pub Quiz companion and a man infinitely more sporty than I, what any of this means since our team has to cry off this week.  

And there I shall leave you for tonight



*  Copyright and patent pending