Conrad Is Seething!

You Know Me - 
It takes very little for your humble scribe to move from his default state of "Cross" to the more extreme one of "Frothing Nitric Ire" and the odds are that First Bus are at the root of the problem, as they are responsible for 90% of the ills that ail the world*.
     "I say!" I hear you loudly exclaim.  "What rotten luck old sport!" and then when you think I'm not listening quietly add "Get some popcorn, this ought to be entertaining."
     Well, the 24 didn't turn up this morning, nor again this evening.   The 182, that normally goes through Royton en route to Shaw, was only running as far as Chadderton, meaning I had to wait there for the 59, which was late, in order to catch a 409 from Oldham Bus Station, which was also late.
     Remind me, how did we acquire and run an empire?
     The informative if mocking bus poster in Chadderton did resolve some issues.
     "For the 28th, 29th and 30th of December, services may run normally, may run an amended service, or may offer a Saturday service."
     Which service is running?  You can't tell.  As I said, informative but mocking, because there's no information on the Transport For GM website.  Oh, except the 24 doesn't run at all on Saturdays, so maybe that's the service we're being offered.
     True to form, the Answerline people were not very helpful or even sympathetic.
     "Yes, we know the website isn't informative, that's deliberate," was their response when I rang them.

First Bus spokesdemon

     Barely able to keep my voice from cracking with hatred, I enquired why?
     "Because we seek to bring a frisson of excitement to your hollow empty life, Conrad," they responded, which was a little alarming as I'd not told them my name.
     "I thought that was a breed of dog?" I riposted, slightly puzzled.
     "No, you're thinking of the Bichon Frise, a breed of small canine classed as a toy variety in the UK, regarded as affectionate, gentle and sensitive."
     "Oh, I see - DAMN YOUR EYES YOU DISTRACTED ME!"
     See that?  Raw Frothing Nitric Ire.

Okay, now that the urge to strangle has lessened, perhaps we can move on.

John Carpenter's Top Ten Documentaries Number 7:  Assault On Precinct 13
Conrad supposes that one of the reasons JC is a prophet without honour in South Canada is because he is, frankly, rather cold-blooded.  We in the Allotment admire this quality and dub it with the French translation "Sang Froid", which is high praise indeed.  The more youthful and effulgent South Canadians differ.

A riveting cinema verite experience

     Take the actual assault by the gangs upon Precinct 13's nearly-deserted police station at the film's impeccably-edited climax.  JC, with the camera and sound guy, could have made a real difference if only they'd taken up arms to help the defenders.  

JC:  "They looked well able to handle themselves."

Yet they chose not to.  This was a really dodgy gamble as I doubt the gang members would have been merciful in triumph.  Fortunately for JC et al, truth and justice prevailed.
     Perhaps the most howling irony about this film is that it inspired a fictionalised remake.

"No!"

Jim'll Paint It
This seemed seasonally-themed and also tips the hat to JC (see above).  I don't think he was ever formally thanked or rewarded for revealing the presence of sinister alien conspirators.  Art?

One of the aliens uncovered in "They Live"

     I suspect JC trod on too many toes to be merited anything like recognition.  Still, Jim picked a winner here.  Here's a link:

http://jimllpaintit.tumblr.com/

     Because that way he probably won't sue me.

Conrad The Hair-Splitting Pedant
Yes that's me, able to divide a human hair 64 times with my jeweller's loupe and a diamond scalpel.

Here's one I made earlier

     Actually that was only a metaphor, as I was going to provide evidence of said pedant, which people call me as if it's a bad thing.  Take a look at this photograph:

Do you see?  Do you?  DO YOU?

     This is used with a caption burbling on about the Battle of Arras, implying these are British troops.
     NO THEY ARE NOT!  NOT!  THEY ARE NOT BRITISH TROOPS!!
     I realise that double exclamation mark at the end is going a bit over the top, but my traditional British sang froid was challenged.
     "Any more popcorn - oh, are you still banging on?" I hear you ask.
     Yes I am.  Those are American South Canadian troops, firing the handy little French 37mm trench cannon**, at Belleau Wood. The confusion may arise because the South Canadians also used the Brodie Pattern Helmet, which we British with sprightly humour called the "Battle Bowler".

Our Teuton brethren called it a "Soup-bowl helment"

     There we are, well over count, battered out in 50 minutes and every line full of quality humour.  Apart from the Frothing Nitric Ire.  Chin chin!

*  And that's on a good day.
**  I reluctantly use the metric measurement here because 1.5" wouldn't be familiar to all those out there who know about trench cannons.