When The Urge To KILL -

 - Is Irresistible
Not in real life, I hasten to reassure you.  If Conrad can retain his cool on a bus rammed to bursting that's running forty minutes late, full of the disgusting odours of humid humans, when there's no Metro and thus no crossword, his i-pod has run out of charge and he's long finished the sole book in his bag, without the red mist coming down and that same bus becoming a mobile meat midden, then you really have nothing to fear*.
     Anyway, this isn't about Conrad, rather it's about that occasional provider of material, Darling Daughter**.  

She came and got a lift to the Mansion from Picadilly Station, regaling Degsy and myself with tales of her Dungeon and Dragons adventures, and one novice in particular.  Apparently a trend in newbies to D&D is to KILL EVERYONE IN SIGHT ALL THE TIME.  Strange, Conrad played D&D many decades ago and doesn't remember being so bloodthirsty; although at that point perhaps I simply hadn't acquired it.
     Well, this murderous rampage is what the novice did, to the extent of negatively impacting games.  Conrad, ever the punster, declared the lad to be a "Nerderer" - you have to say it out loud.

 V Festival 2016
Conrad was quietly devouring lunch yesterday in the company of Alex and Olivia, the latter of whom was stressed over attending the V Festival in Stafford over the weekend.

Performing there.
"Laugh-a while you can, monkey boy!"

     "How can this be?" queried your humble scribe.
     Organisation, for one thing.  It appears that Olivia and friends needed a tent, and chairs, and beer, and food not to mention wellington boots, all of which had to be bought and stocked and stored.
     Weather, for another thing.  The Festival begins today, Friday, and what was the forecast for Friday?

     Rain.
     Ah, well.  What's the forecast for Saturday?
     More rain.
     Oh, I say!  Er - Sunday?
     Even rainier.
     Hence the wellington boots.  Olivia, have you ever considered investing in a canoe?

Nope.  You're not selling it to Conrad, not at all.

Further To The Above
Darling Daughter, that is. Hmmm.  If she generates this much content, I ought to invite her up more often.  In case you'd forgotten what she looks like - 

     Whilst at the Pub Quiz - which was a hoot but where we did not do very well, I'm afraid - Darling Daughter had one eye cocked at the wall-mounted television, where Olympic diving events were being held.  This sort of thing:

Hmmm.  Quite surreal, when you stop to think

     Very lithe and balletic, I'm sure you'll agree, for people throwing themselves off large structures into the water, when they didn't have to.
     "Pah!" intoned Conrad (I do this very well, due to constant practice), rather unimpressed.  "The Hungarian Special Forces*** do that in (thirsty) uniforms, with their ankles strapped together.  And their hands strapped together.  Behind their backs."

      Conrad, being the huge coward he is, broke into a cold sweat just watching this.
     "Sounds hardcore," agreed DD^.  "Almost as hardcore as the Olympic sport of ... Competetive Walking."
     Which, apparently, is not a Real Thing.  DD laughed like a drain over what was, frankly, a cheap hit, given your modest artisan's wilful ignorance of sports.

A Pome For Sophie
Ah, I weep invisible tears at the departure of a fellow soul whose dad appeared almost as hip and trendy at Conrad.  Thankfully she remembered to return the copy of "Watchmen" that I lent her, or my rosy recollections would probably be tinted with blood treacle Jeyes Household Cleaning Fluid.  Anyway, I did a pome for her departure, as I often do if prodded awake with a sharp stick in time.  I call it a "pome" as it can't really claim to be any more than a load of rhyming doggerel, or catterel if you prefer felines (Sophe does).
     Behold!

Well, my jolly Wednesday chums, 

Let us smile and not be glums.

As Sophie leaves for lands Teutonic,

She's not glum, she's damn euphoric.

I will miss her Pusheen adoration

(Biggest fan across the nation!)

So, without being considered a ratty,

I can safely call Sophie "catty".

For she is also fond of Cake.

Not merely the kind of thing you bake,

I refer to her and Benny's pet - 

Baking him would cause upset.

Now, onto Sophie's knickers flash.

Teacups in hand, she tried to dash

From kitchen to desk, but Alas!

Her pants fell down and bared her ass.

This lingerie was Pusheen designed -

Fitting wear for Sophie's behind

(There were lines here that can't be viewed

As they were judged to be far too lewd)

     There you have it.  Sophie did ask for a copy of the pome, so I don't think she was too upset.  We shall see if I get Unfriended, I suppose ...

Pusheen is on the scene!

*  Most of the time.
** Sally
*** "Kulonleges Muveleti Zaszloalj"
^  That's "DD"; not to be confused with "D&D" even if DD plays D&D