Experiment in TERROR!

Actually I Lied
But you should be used to that by now.  Besides, "Experiment In Typing Whilst In Front Of Television" doesn't quite have the same snap. 
     Moving along, I hope you didn't detect any lowering of our standards of composition on Sunday's late afternoon post.  It was an experiment of sorts - THE TERROR OF SORTS! Oh no wait a minute, sorts aren't terrifying at all - an experiment.  Could I compose a post whilst watching an episode of "Elementary"?  ( and here an aside within parentheses, since I have been noting the vocabulary of Elementary, to wit:  "Chagrin", "Expedient", "Spelunkers" and "Gamboge" - I already knew about that last because I'm so well read already*). 

Elementery.  Close enough

     The answer it "Yes", except rather slooooowly, since it took about two hours to create the wonder that greeted your sight, or twice as long as normal.  I did notice their nice attempt to recreate a London street in New York - set dressing included a Landrover and Lambretta scooter - although sharp (New York!) eyes did notice a "Walk/Don't Walk" sign in the background.  7/10 for effort.
     Just so we're clear here.  It might give you a bit of insight into Conrad's creati - NO!  Stop - come back!

The White Wyrack
Continuing on with the latter end of the alphabet (remember?  we covered "Vulture"), this fictional monster popped up in my mind, thanks to Steve**.  All I can remember is that it's a Twentieth Century kind of beast, that hides in factory chimneys, so probably quite large.  I think the creator was Polish, which may explain why Fred Dibnah never encountered one***.

Shhh!  It's hiding.

Addendum: (written several days later)  Well now.  Not only have I recalled a Polish monster from the Twentieth Century, I have recalled a monster so obscure that even the mighty Google cannot find it.
     That's worth a nod and a grin, surely?

The Parrots Of Paranoia!
Is that sinister enough?  No?  It needs more terror adding to it?  Very well, then.
The Cyborg Zombie Parrots Of Paranoid Perturbation!
I might be over-egging it a bit with the "Perturbation" bit there.  Still, let's plough our lonely furrow, because face it, how many blogs out there aim to scare you with parrots?
     Now, warming to the theme, Anna^^ is the owner of a parrot named Ben.  He is, by all accounts, a little swine (yes a deliberately mixed metaphor) prone to biting bits out of her.  Whilst I am sure Anna tastes as lovely as she looks, this is really going rather too far.  Personally, I would take Ben into the kitchen and demonstrate the oven's "Rotisserie" function whilst tapping a kebab skewer on the worktop.  Parrots are clever, he'd get the hint.

"Look!  Dinner!"

     Further to this theme, young Russ used to have a parrot named "Charlie", and no, there's no reason why I've put quotes around him and not Ben, I just like to be perverse.  This dates back to when young Russ lived at home with mum and dad.  This avian woder "Charlie" exhibited rampant territoriality and would attack household guests in the ferocious flying feathered analogy of a Stuka dive-bomber.
     Not only that, there was it's talent for mimicry, an ability parrots have in spades (no, not a mixed metaphor).  Russ's parents would be woken in the small hours of the morning by the sound of their house phone ringing.  His dad, Mike, would grumpily make his way downstairs to confront whoever was ringing at this damn fool time of the night and it'd better be an emergency announcing fire or flood or Rabid Weasel Apocalypse -
     - except it was "Charlie" copying the phone ringing.
     Rotisserie function, Mike, Rotisserie function.

Free Food And Drink
As you may be aware by now, Conrad is a ravenous glutton and the only reason he no longer looks like a humanoid Godzilla (as on the blog's background photo) is because of his Mysterious and Hideous Wasting Disease.  Thus he has no reason not to stuff himself with food - as mentioned in a title, viands go down so quickly they don't touch the sides - in much the same was he never worries about what alcohol mixture he's drinking or in what combination, as that human infliction "Hangover" is entirely foreign to his scabrous alien hide.
     "Whatever are you gloasting about now, old man?" I hear you quibble.  "Make haste, for the badger parade is in - oops, no, sorry, I mean we only have 24 hours to save the planet."
     Burns Night, folks, Burns Night.  Although it occurs tomorrow our Mysterious And Un-named Employer was handing out free haggis, Scotch pies (steak and haggis) and Irn Bru.  Art?

The evidence.  Which didn't last long

     "Burns Night", in case you are unaware, is a night held on the 25th of January in memory of Robert Burns, usually pronounced "Rabbie", who wrote poetry.  This automatically puts him in Conrad's bad books, all the more so since he wrote in an impenetrable dialect that renders him incomprehensible unless you have a Scottish translator to hand.

                                                Burns

*  If you must know, "Chagrin" means "Regret", "Expedient" means "handy by way of convenient", "Spelunkers" are cave-explorers and "Gamboge" is a yellow pigment.
**  My memory, if you remember.  Ha!  See what I - O you do.
***  Fred was a bit of a character, who demolished chimneys^.
^  For a living, not out of spite.
^^  A Princess amongst women.