It's About Time

Indeed It Is
Don't worry, this isn't about one of those mind-bending paradoxii that appear on "Doctor Who" where they puzzle out how the chicken suddenly appeared simultaneously with the egg, except the chicken was a cyborg and it was a dinosaur egg -
     If you have an effective memory, then I envy you then you may recall my blathering on about using my recently-acquired laptop to carry out The World's Most Boring Hobby - IMDB Goof Auditing.  This would warm the heart of any forensic accountant or code compiler, and possibly some of the staff at GCHQ.

     Somewhat to my muted horror, it turns out that I last worked on this particular hobby a year ago - see above screenshot for confirmation.  Your humble scribe was aware it had been a while, but - a year?  A YEAR?  Dear me.  There I was thinking a few months at most.  
     The lesson to take away from this, dear reader, is that your memory - or, in my case, mine, who goes by the name of "Steve" - is a treacherous and unreliable entity.

More Horror, Still Muted
Imagine the scene - your humble scribe is looking, aghast, at his alarm clock, which did not go off.  He is, appropriately enough, alarmed.  The hands mockingly indicate 10:30, the room is in daylight and a moment of panic strikes like a non-lethal lightning bolt.
     "It'll take at least an hour to get into work!  I'll have to ring ahead and see if this can be down as a half-day holiday!" and that's without taking time to scrape the stubble off my squamous skin and rinse the scurvy out of my hair.
     Then the penny dropped.  Actually a twenty-pence piece, given inflation. 
     It was Sunday morning.  Not Monday.
     However, that horror had been real for a few seconds.  Go on, enjoy a bit of schadenfreude and laugh at an old man - who doesn't even have the excuse of still feeling the effects of his hangover.

"Time Considered As A Helix Of Semi-Efficacious Zones"
Of course you recognised that as a spoof of the Samuel Delaney short story (which all these years I had thought to be a J. G. Ballard work), and which gives me an excuse to add-in a picture of the album by The Comsat Angels (which is a title from a J. G. Ballard work).

Writ large so you can appreciate them all the more

     You DID recognise that as a spoof, didn't you?  Because if not, there will be consequences.  Serious consequences.  Zones, you see.  Time.  Time zones?  O I give up.
     "Where are you going with this, oh white-haired word-wielding wonder?" I hear you ask, which is quite flattering, by the way. 
     In the direction of DATE-EXPIRED FOOD! of course.  I did say it was a matter of time, and in this case it's time-elapsed.  Meet Unami Paste, which I threw over a bowl of Pierogi* and guzzled down last week.  Expiry date some time in 2014, which is long ago for us not to need bother what the month or day was.

October 2014.  So, nicely matured.

      Needless to say, your modest artisan is still standing.  In metaphor, at least, since currently I sit typing.  Art?
     Here's another treasure I discovered at the back of the kitchen cupboards

     I don't think you can make out the date properly, so I shall merely add that it's from 2015.  They were a bit mushy, to be honest, although perfectly edible.  I've put them in the fridge, which is a calculated risk, as Other Folks might decide to bin the jar.  In which case - DENIED!

Parrots Of Phear
Yes, yes, I know that's been picked out as a spelling mistake, well it's not, I just invented it, which makes it entirely valid.  If you disagree, the exit door IS THAT WAY!
     Conrad remembers and mourns the passing of that model shop on Deansgate - the name escapes me - who, for - no, not that kind of model, I meant the Airfix or Tamiya variety, not Revell, they were rubbish - where were we?  Oh, yes, who for some bizarre reason had a parrot in a cage in their basement.  Perhaps this is a retail synergy your humble scribe is unaware of?  "Everything sells better with - PARROTS!" or "Airfix and African Grey - sell better today."

Is this parrot goose-stepping?  Is this a mixed metaphor?  Only you can tell!

     There was a warning sign on the cage, may I caution you, along the lines of "Don't put your finger in here because a fully-grown African Grey** can sever a finger in a trice."

Imagine, if you will, the foot-pounds exerted by this, and then add feathers

     So - lovely to handle, lovely to hold, but if you beak it - major reconstructive surgery is on the books for you.


*  Only 9 days out of date so they don't really count.
**  It may have been Blue.  Memory's hazy***.
***  Passing nod to The Chameleons, contemporaries of the Comsats.