Death And The Maiden

No, Not The Film
Stay with me on this, I'm fuelled by a pint of percolated coffee, Morrion's generic Pep Swill, Old Golden Hen and Portuguese Blackberry liqueur, so I may work up a metaphorical head of steam and ramble a bit.

For example, John Steed, more British than crumpets for breakfast
This will make sense later.  Perhaps.

     "How will we tell the difference?" I hear you chortle.
     Watch out, I do know where you live!  Those CIA spy satellites that can read The Times crossword from 250 miles up?  Yup, I can piggyback their signals and re-task them to track you down.  Or, find a more challenging crossword.
     Talking of which - don't worry, we'll get to "Death" in a bit - I have had a go at the Manchester Evening News' Cryptic and smashed it, then turned to their Codeword, which has been rendered significantly harder.  Art?

Evidence only slightly blurred

     If you are not as delighted as Conrad at mucking about with words and language, you have my permission to move on; I know how ghoulish you lot are and that "Death" simply won't keep, will it?
     Anyway, in the Codeword you used to be given three letters represented by a number, two consonants and a vowel, and from these you completed the rest of the grid, working out which of the remaining 23 numbers equated to which letter.  Now, however, you only get two consonants, which increases the difficulty by more than 33%, I assure you.  Given statistics, you can work out which number is either "E" or "A", and then eliminate ones paired together because you simply don't get combinations of "AA" "II" or "UU".  Then it's a process of deduction, combining logic and lexicography.
     I realise this may sound like cruel and unusual punishment to some people out there, and they would pay good money to avoid it - what can I say?  It's so me. Yes yes yes, we'll get to the "Death" bit, all in good time!

X-Ray of Conrad's brain in full lexicographical working mode

     I realise also that Conrad's usual dismissal of logic, rationality and calculated thinking rather clashes with the above, and I can only say not to trust me.  Conrad:  the original unreliable witness.

The Maiden
Tee hee!  I feel so wicked delaying the "Death" bit.
     Okay, this is another cricketing term, informed by Phil after the Pub Quiz on Thursday last.  Technically it's a "maiden over", an "over" being the six balls a bowler is allowed to chuck at the batsman, and it's a "maiden" if no runs are scored from those six balls.
     I am breaking these cricketing terms to you slowly as the game is fiendishly complicated, full of bizarre terms and more British than bacon butties at breakfast.

A bowler.
As worn by John Steed, who is probably good at cricket in addition to killing people

Okay, Death
Well, our trans-Atlantic cousins in South Canada would add "kinda" to this title, as I am about to continue with our entertaining and informational look at poisons of antiquity.  Tonight we look at:  Mandrake.
     Actually mandrake isn't the terrifying killer I'd imagined it to be and, frankly, is a bit of a disappointment.  Much like Foxglove.
     There's a terrific amount of nonsense been bruited around about this plant, because of a supposed resemblance to a human being.  Art?

Well.  It might resemble Conrad not wearing his disguise, but a human?  Come on!

     Mandrake is chock full of hideous chemicals that can cause all sorts of unpleasant symptoms, including death on occasion, but it also invokes hallucinations, which is why some people eat it.  Be warned, it's hideous chemical cocktail can cause the heart or nervous system to cease functioning, and one of the secondary effects is what has been described as "a deathlike trance".

A bit like this lot

     Ah, you knew I'd squeeze a zombie reference in there if I could!
     One of the "kinda" criteria is that a decoction of mandrake root was used in antiquity as a topical analgesic*, and eating it to cause unconsciousness was also a medical practice for serious surgery.

Hats Off To Lieutenant P.H. Murray (a.k.a. More Of Death)
I have mentioned before how the British are odd.  You need not look any further than Marmite to confirm this, and you are quite welcome to try it if you wish, though have a bottle of water to hand and an empty cup to spit into.  Just in case.  Here is a little more confirmation in the person of the officer named above, present during the first battle of Ypres in November 1914.

Someone somewhere in France is about to have an extremely bad day ...

     The Lieutenant had ridden about the battlefield on a horse with no saddle, seeking to find out what the Germans were up to; the Germans not having the good grace to inform the British army**.  He had been pursued up and down the field of strife by both German soldiery and their bullets, causing him to lose his hat.
     "O I say!" I hear you commiserate.  "An officer separated from his hat!"
     Quite.
     After still more riding up and down the battlefield, our gallant officer recovered his hat, a fact which made him incandescently angry.  The wicked Teutons, you see, had recovered his hat temporarily before he had, and nicked the badge from it.

Ironically - named after a French cooking pot

     Goodness gracious!  I did mention about building up a head of creative steam, and here we are at nearly 1,000 words, and there's still so much more scrivel I could have added.  Well, tomorrow for that, if I've created it you are most certainly going to be on the receiving end.



*  "Painkiller" - <translation from Pseud by Mister Hand>
** The bally rotters!