- Conrad is no longer part of the corrupt, manipulative and thoroughly maleficent bourgeouis establishment, a.k.a being unemployed. Whilst this means - o frabjous day! - that he gets to lie in beyond 6:30 a.m. it also means he isn't travelling on the bus and so misses out on The Metro. No Metro, no Cryptic Crossword. Swings and roundabouts, I suppose, as it also means I don't have to endure vapid celebritutes whom I've never heard of spouting off about things they know nothing of, to people who could care less, but only if they made an effort.
So, venturing into Gomorrah-Lite (better known to you as "Oldham") to make a claim for benefits, I got my sweaty, trembling hands on a copy of The Metro. Result! Although I've probably gotten intellectually flabby since becoming gainfully unemployed. We shall see, and I will most certainly keep you informed.
The Haul
Of course no trip to town would be complete without a trawl through the bookshops; not the charity shops today, I hit those last week and we have to give them time to replenish. So, The Works first and then Waterstones. Art?
 |
| I shall detail further |
You can tell the correct title of the two right-hand volumes. The one by Damien Lewis is interesting enough, and comes after I'd heard vague rumours about this unit and what it did. Allegedly, and I've not checked the index yet to see if this is confirmed or not, Sir Christopher Lee was involved in this work. Imagine the scene; you are a Teuton officer with a guilty conscience, and you open your front door to find Dracula standing there. You'd confess to anything, I dare say ...
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| Okay, okay, I'm guilty. GUILTY! |
The lower left volume is actually entitled "The Salient" and is about Ypres in the First Unpleasantness. If Hell is muddy, then it would greatly resemble the Ypres salient. Conrad may detail this further in the future.
Finally, the top left volume is not about torturing fish; it should read "The Code Breakers". About people who broke codes, for which you have to be brainy, and fish is brain food, and cod -
Which is where we came in.
About That Election ...
This comes under the heading of both Politics and Current Affairs, so if you want a commentary or editorial or merely invective being ladled over the participants, I would advise you to go elsewhere. We here at BOOJUM! treat politicians with considerably less regard than the (much misunderstood) weasel, if a little more than the Japanese Mountain Leech.
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| A Theresa Maybug |
Ho ho. Do you see what - O you do*.
A Clerihew Or Two
I've had these done for a while and haven't had the chance to put them before you, so here they are. I did ponder about tackling some colleagues, but that would mean 1) Getting their permission, and people can be awfully pawky about that if they know you're going to mock them, however gently and; 2) Putting their surname there in black and white for the world - or that portion thereof that checks out BOOJUM! - to see, which in this day of electronic stalking may be a tad risky. So, until 1) and 2) coincide, we shall just have to stick with the rich and famous. Take it away with the mordant mockery!
Oscar Wilde
Felt defiled.
Because he did not have enough pens,
Which he was to regret again and agains.
As you can see from my photo of The Haul, it is not possible to have too many pens**.
William Shakespeare
Liked his beer.
He also had many pens, and so was happy.
A pen-rich exuberant writing chappy.
I'm not happy about this one, myself. I hate Shakespeare. The only decent thing he did was write a treatment for "Forbidden Planet".
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| "Is this a dagger I see before me?" |
No, you baffoon, it's a robot!
Moving swiftly on, I think it's about time to annoy the Ruffians***.
Leo Tolstoy
Was quite the boy.
He wrote long novels in Russian,
With a scratchy goose-quill pen.
Welllllll he might have done.
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| He is writing. |
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| Ah now, here's someone who's living the dream |
* I won't do this often, so if you like it, cherish it.
** Unless you live in France.
*** Vodka is vile! Borshcht is bottom! There, that ought to do it.
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