Giant Aerial Mallets

Metaphorical Ones
Although, if the image takes you, please feel free to picture a plethora of person-propelled pummelling pounders being hurled into the air.

Or strange tractors

     Okay, typically, once the subject has been introduced, allow me to go wildly off-road in terms of theme.  Well, not so much off-road as across that river and into the trees.
     Tom!  No, not the boyfriend of Darling Daughter, who is probably wondering what kind of family he's gotten involved with, nor yet Tom at work, nor the other Tom at work whom I may have to destroy ahead of schedule*, but Tom, a regular at The Pleasant Inn.

The Pleasant, in inclement weather

     "Is he getting paid a commission from this pub?" I hear you query.  "It keeps getting mentioned."
     Yes it does, because it is a good pub.  One of the Sam Smith's chain, so it has NO ELECTRONIC ENTERTAINMENT, unless you count Janet - heretoforth praised by the blog as hip and trendy and fond of zombies - the landlady wrestling with a microphone to address her eager and attentive audience.  
     Where was I?
     Oh, yes, Tom.  It was Tom's 80th on Thursday and they had balloons, and a cake, which your humble scribe did not see at first.  Then his daughter and son-in-law brought it round just as we were leaving and - Beaky Chugger!  Art?

Awesome!

     Of course your humble scribe, a military anorak of the first order, instantly recognised the "17th/21st Lancers" title, and immediately announced "O!  The 'Death or Glory' boys!" and proceeded to babble about the name being a result of the individual regiments being amalgamated -
     "Come and meet my dad," announced the daughter.  So Conrad shook hands with Tom and enquired what particular piece of metal kit he'd served in.  Armoured cars?
     "Centurions," informed Tom.  Conrad leapt in.
     "Oh, did they have the twenty-pounder or the one-oh-five?"
     "They were the Mark Seven," informed Tom.  "One-oh-five."
     For the uninformed, who will very shortly become informed and no two ways about it, the conversation above refers to the type of gun mounted on the tank.  We chatted a bit more about the Centurion and Bovington Tank Museum, and I went on my way.

Art, you idiot!

     
A Touch Of Bathos
From imagining Tom and his crew preparing to take on the Sinister hordes in the Fulda Gap, let us move to something a little closer to home and heart:  food safety.
     As you know - or perhaps not, if you are one of the welcome newer readers - Conrad is a big fat coward who whimpers in fear at the mere glimpse of a hypodermic needle on-screen, and whose shriek has been known to shatter glass when surprised by a spider.  However, one thing that he has utter contemptuous disregard for is "Best By Date", which is mostly because he has a fusion-powered disposal unit where Hom. Sap**. has a stomach.
     Thus:

"25/08/2012"

     They look okay, and don't smell off, which isn't really any indication as I have about 5% of the normal human range of smell.  But I intend to eat them and will get back to you on the matter.

Those Giant Aerial Mallets
Conrad happened to mention the Vulcan bomber to Phil, one of his two Pub Quiz partners, and was informed that these used to be built in Chadderton.
     Imagine!
     This is probably lost on those of you who have never lived there, nor travelled past the old A.V. Roe factory on the way to work every day.  A. V. Roe used to produce aircraft under the name "Avro", which you have to admit is easier off the tongue and sounds vaguely associated with flight.  They were later absorbed into British Aerospace.
      Anyway, Phil then held forth on an interest in aircraft and attending airshows, which is an aspect of him completely unknown to your humble scribe until that moment.  Okay, let us see some mallets under construction:

Quiver in feat, Sinister hordes!

     Quite a coincidence.  Let us move on from these Buckets-Of-Instant-Sunshine carriers and go back even further, to when the plant was producing another Avro hit, the Lancaster bomber.  Art?

Say hello to my - well - rather large friend

     Although the Vulcan had a very limited combat history - which is all to the good as otherwise I would be typing this amidst a cratered radioactive wasteland - the Lancaster was entirely the opposite.  It gets described as "legendary", which it is, except Teuton readers of a certain age might feel a little differently about it.
     If I feel bothered I might retail the story of the "Black Buck" bombing raid that the Vulcan carried out during the Falklands War, which also featured the Victor.

What?  Art - oh I see.  I'm a victor.
Nice try but I'm still getting the Tazer.

Don't forget - a rabid weasel is ALWAYS the victor

*  It's a long story.  See previous blog posts.
**  "Homo Sapiens".  You humans, baby, you humans.