The Stinking Smell Of Smoking Socks

Really, The Indignities I Put Up With!
As is well-known by now, your humble scribe is physically remarkable for two reasons:  
1) No sense of smell and 2) The ability to eat anything*.
     Hold onto that concept, it comes into play later on.
     Okay, so yesterday was spent mostly dogsitting Edna, as Wonder Wifey tootled off down south to pick up an E-bay purchase, a rug that cost £5,000 new that she acquired for 50p, something like that.  Conrad: not big on rugs; wasn't paying close attention, instead rubbed hands at the opportunity to binge-watch "Archer" and "Game of Thrones", which will come into play later on.
     Now - sorry, what's that?
     "Show us!  Show us the £6,000 rug!" I hear you call.  Well, if that will help us move on, okay.  Art?
     

     I'm sure you'll agree, worth every penny of the 25p that WW bargained it down to.  Not sure I'd ever pay £7,000 for a bit of wool backed with cord, but hey, whatever floats your boat.
     Today I was dogsitting again, literally at times.  Art?

Sittingdog

     - as Wonder Wifey was off to get a new ironing board.  Once again, binge-watching GoT, and whilst everyone else was out of the house, Conrad took the opportunity to get that remaindered Gorgonzola and spread it on toast, so he could grill it.  I refer you again to Paragraph One and points 1 & 2.
     Unfortunately for all involved, WW and Degsy returned just as it was being grilled and - obviously! - they felt compelled to comment.
     "That stinks!"
     "It smells exactly like socks!"
     "It smell like burning socks!"
     "It reeks!  Better open a window!"
     Conrad huffily departed with his cheese on toast, which he ate in the lounge as quickly as possible SO NOBODY ELSE HAD TO SUFFER THE SMELL ANY LONGER THAN THEY HAD TO.

It was delicious, thanks for asking

     Edna remained available for comment but didn't.

"Game Of Thrones"
Conrad is saddened to see that, although Wildlings have been introduced, there are still no bagpipes.  If you care to know, I have just finished watching Episode 9 of Season 1.
     I have to say, they're not scared of knocking off major characters.  Whoops, there goes King Robert!  Political situation promptly turns upside down.  Oh, I say, Ned Stark's in the dungeons - ooops, no, tell a lie, he's dead.
     Yes, that was a spoiler, from five years ago.  So don't blame me**.

In those days, even barbers were ferocious

     Also in this episode, British character actor Charles Vaughn gets a speech that allows him to show his acting chops, against Kit Harrington and a load of ravens, disproving the adage about acting with children or animals.

The Olympics Have Ended
You may have already noticed this.  Conrad, not being at all interested in sports, has managed to avoid seeing more than a brief glimpse of Dancing Lady Kickers, and People Throwing Themselves Off Tall Structures (fortunately there was water beneath to break their fall).
     Team GB seem to have covered themselves in glory, winning scads of medals (Conrad has no idea how many so will hastily move on from this ...).  Some of these events are a little obscure, I have to confess, yet you can't really criticise the medal-winners after they've been going at it for the past four years.

Note chap in wheelchair - it's about ability

     Tom, who may at ANY MOMENT be stripped of his MInistry of Musical Murder portfolio due to lack of love for popcorn***, pointed out that other nations reward their Olympians with vast amounts of filthy lucre.  We here in the Pond Of Eden do not, which he thought rather unfair.
     Tom!  This is in keeping with the proud tradition of British amateurs who perform for love of the sport, not money.  I realise this tradition breaks down when it comes to those whinging  prima donnas who play football; rest assured this is yet another problem that will be speedily resolved when I become World Dictator.
     After all, remember that the original Greek Olympians were rewarded with nothing more than a laurel wreath -
     - hmm, that sounds a winning combination, football players and wreaths ...

As tasteful as only BOOJUM! can be

Conrad's Sinister Forward Planning
I intend to use a particular rhyme to pimp the blog today, which necessitates having this picture in here, as otherwise I'd be lying, and we can't have that, can we?

A pile of bones

     In fact I think I'll egg the pudding a bit more.  Art?

A heap of stones

Finally -
Another bit of promotion, but of someone else, rather than that inveterate camera-hog Conrad:  Jim'll Paint it.

Hilarious, yes.  Tasteless - no, not at all!

     Jim accepts suggestions for paintings, which are all universally bizarre, and indeed one wonders if some of those doing the suggesting are taking a break from their medication.  Just to cover my bottom I shall include a link to his site, which is worth checking out for a disbelieving snigger:

http://jimllpaintit.tumblr.com/



*  Live nuclear fuel rods being the single known exception
** Actually you can, I don't care.  I'm horrid like that.
*** It's a long story.  Go read the blog.