Doctor No!

I Know What You're Thinking - 
And you're wrong.  This ought to worry you on two counts - One: yes, that telepathy helmet that DARPA were researching for so long really works, and Two: it has mysteriously gone missing ...
     Odd, that.
     Anyway, about your wrongness.  You are undoubtedly thinking about the first James Bond film, which involves an Asian nutter mucking about with nuclear gadgets; well of course we here at BOOJUM! wouldn't dream of referencing that, as it smacks entirely too much of Current Affairs.  Console yourself with the thought that you're heading in the wrong direction but are on the correct rails.
     First, as you would expect of a spelling and grammar nazi like Conrad, the correct film title is "Dr. No", which is an abbreviation, UNLIKE TODAY'S TITLE!  In fact !!!

Kim Jong Un - a boy and his toys, eh?

     Third - no, just testing - Second, I am referring to that Saturday evening staple, "Doctor Who", which has stopped broadcasting.  I know, I know, the correct title should have been "No Doctor!" except none of the above would have applied, and I have a word count to hit, you know.  

Allons'y!

Personally, Conrad is relieved at this cessation of the Beeb's flagship dramamentary, because it came at a most inconvenient time of day for blog creation.
     Well, now that's the Intro over, let the mewling, puling* motley begin!


You What?
Seen on the bus whilst travelling home (late again THANK YOU First Bus), a sign proudly proclaiming that you can "Rotted Manure", because why get fresh when  you can get rotted?  Well, the smell for one thing - Conrad imagines this would be spectacularly awful.
     And the next big sign on our homeward route?  "Eat at Smokies", which I would suspect suffers by association with Rotted Manure.  Rotting horse dung and ashy fumes - not a winning combo, is it?

                                                      Close enough

Fencing
No!  Nothing to do with the Olympic sport that consists of folks waggling sharp metal things at each other. 
     Here an aside.  Does anyone recall that ludicrous cameo of Madonna The Fencing Instructor in a Bond fillum?  I can't be bothered to go look it up, as it was the most egregious example of an agent pimping their client ever.

     <hang on, is Ben Folds still alive?  - phew, yes!  Carry on>

     No, I mean this type of fencing.  Art?

With Edna for scale

     The reason for this formidable fortification is because of that small noisy bitey Domesticated Wolf at stage right.  BF - or 'Before Fencing' - she was able to lean on the wall and either wag her tail and pant for attention from passers-by (due to the wicked neglect of her owners), or bark with Frothing Nitric ire at passing dogs.  What could possibly go wrong?  Then one day a rather tall chap went to pat her on her head whilst walking his own dog - and nearly got bitten as Edna reacted to the dog, not him.
     Suddenly, there's panic in my world**.  What chance this might happen again?
     Well, now that we're in the AF - or 'After Fencing' - era, no chance whatsoever.  I mean, who ever heard of a dog using a saw or a hammer to -

Oh.  Right.  Chain-link, perhaps?

And Now - James Bond Versus Maths And Physics
Cast your mind back to that tangential offshoot JB fillum "Never Say Never Again", which is a remake of "Thunderball" for reasons too horribly complicated to go into.  Really.  Trust me on this.
     Okay, James and his lady friend Domino are travelling via a USN FBMS and depart via modified SLBM.  We see them get - what?  Alphabet salad?  <sighs> okay, okay:  "United States Navy", "Fleet Ballistic Missile Submarine" and "Submarine Launched Ballistic Missile".  There.
     As I was saying, they depart from the submarine by missiles, which shed their casing and turn into individually-maneouvred jet assemblies.  It was hard to find picture evidence of this, so -

My description to a T

     Of course your humble scribe objects to this.  It's an incredibly expensive and wasteful way of exiting a submarine.  Why not surface and use a boat?  The there's the practical limitations of being launched into the heavens via a Polaris missile.  Art?

A"boomer" lets rip

     The Polaris is actually launched via steam venting once the tube door is opened, penetrating a protective membrane that keeps the seawater out.  The exact depth they are launched from is secret, so the painting above is a guess, but we can estimate about 10 yards***.  Okay.  The missile itself weighs 16 tons, so all that mass has to be propelled with sufficient force to leave the water, at which point the first-stage rocket motor ignites.

Moscow is about to have a very bad hair day

     Got all that?  Now, look at the fake missile that our hero and heroine mount to the heavens.  Rather than 16 tons, it can barely mass 1 ton, which means - it is going to get propelled 16 times more forcefully than a fully-functional Polaris.
     Now for some guesstimates.  Again, these figures are guesswork because the real ones are Top Secret, so if BOOJUM! goes quiet for a day or two in the near future, then the ONI have been making enquiries ...  Okay, we assume a launch speed from the tube of 300 m.p.h., sustained for one second over that distance of 30 feet; for a normal Polaris that works out at an acceleration of 30g.  For James' version, the G Forces comes in at 480g.  A normal Hom. Sap. can sustain a maximum of 5g before blacking out; pilots with special suits can manage higher, though in frame 4 of the sequence above witness James in a t-shirt and shorts.  Not only would he have been rendered unconscious, he'd have been rendered to a thin red jelly, actually.

James required considerable recuperation time.

*  But not drooling.  That would be too much.
**  Be Bop Deluxe reference there for you.
***  None of that metric nonsense here!