How To Win The Lottery

Easy!
You only need to build a time-machine, so that you can pop a few days into the future, find those winning numbers and - Hay Pesto! - many millions beckon.  Of course, to build a functional time-machine requires many millions in the first place, which makes it a bit of a tautological solution.  Or - did you get your millions in the first place because you built a time-machine?  Is this an infinite recursive loop?  Where does a Lapp go when he stands up?
     Actually none of that has anything to do with what follows, of course, and in fact I only intended to put that title there to bait people, and yet here we are, chuntering along.  What I want to talk about is -

     Syndiotactic Polymerisation!

Oh this polymer's syndiotactism!

     Not really.  Just testing.  Although I could expand on my thesis about the 3D structure of the polyethylene molecule - no?  You're sure?
     Well, on to the real thing - Manchester Comic Con.

Manchester Comic Con
Logically enough, this takes place in Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell, and the name is a misnomer, as it involves a lot more than comics.  Let us travel through the event in a linear, chronological fashion, because although that's boring, it's the way that makes most sense to you humans.
     Firstly, the masses assemble.  Art?  Put down your coal and fork and picturise!

     That's the exterior of Manchester Central, which Conrad continues to call "GMEX" as he is a creature of habit and that's what it used to be known as.  As you can also see, we were lucky with the weather and had that rarest of Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell's celestial phenomena, SUN.  Art?

     The less fun part of having the cheaper General Entry ticket - a queue that lasted for about half an hour.  Not the hours that Darling Daughter and Quiet Tom spent on their visits, and we retained our luck - no rain!

     Not too clear in this shot, but that's some of the confiscated kit - you are not allowed to carry real baseball bats or functional crossbows.  I noticed one lad impeccably dressed in full British army combat kit who had wisely chosen to carry a fake SA80, as the police would probably have a thing or two to say about that.
     Then we got inside.  Art?

      This lot were posing there for a while, allowing all and sundry to get photos.  Then it was on, into the interior, which is as big as an aircraft carrier, and crammed with folk.  People people everywhere, as the Ancient Mariner never said.  Art?

     A more wretched hive of scum - oh, no, that's Star Wars, isn't it?  A lot of people, anyway.  Here's one of my favourite costumes.  Art?

     You may laugh, but this was terrifying in 1963, thank you very much.  I also caught a good 10 minutes of Denise Crosby being interviewed.  Art?

     You're probably not supposed to take photographs like this, so I feel especially naughty.  Overheard from a passer-by "Who's she?"  Well, you little scamp, she played Tasha Yar in the first couple of seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation until they got rid of her, thank goodness!  I mean, a female security chief - whatever next!  Oh, I think she was in "Miracle Mile" as well <checks IMDB> she is.  A great little film about the end of the world - good date material*.

Best known for hanky-panky with an android

     What next?  Conrad cruised by the booths where people were signing autographs and it was still rammed.  Don't these people have jobs to go to?  Oh, yes - it's Saturday.  Okay.  Still, IT'S REALLY RAMMED!

     Then an artist's stall caught my eye - Sajan Rai.  Well, what he'd put up - "Have yourself done as a sloth" for the modest sum of £50, so!  how could I refuse?

     Not a bad likeness.  I was joking about the price, it was only £5.  He has a Twitter page, but be warned - Not Safe For Work Or Small Children.
     Here's some more elaborate costumes that people obviously put a lot of work into.  Art**?

     Conversely, here's a rather simpler effort:

     Another elaborate costume, which I found hilariously ironic, being stood next to a First Aid poster.  There's a bad taste joke in there somewhere -

     And there was a great big queue for the chance to pay to sit on the Iron Throne, which is from an obscure cult drama.  Or something.  Art?

     I must say, it looks bloody uncomfortable to sit on.  Where have those swords last been, eh?  (that allows me to use the "b" word) - hang on, let me just check if en Folds is still alive - phew, he is, thanks for waiting for me - Moreover, if it is made of iron it must be horribly cold; that great big hall it sits in has no heating, does it?  Nor do they put comfortable cushions on it, either, so it must be horribly hard as well.  Cold, hard and liable to stain you if it gets rusty.  Must be hell if you've got haemorrhoids ...
     By the way, that above was in the Exchange Hall, where it was significantly less rammed, probably because there were no stalls trying to sell you manga-themed plastic tat.  I didn't recognise a lot of the costumes, because I assume they originate from manga comics or <spits> computer games***.

There were several of that guy on the left.  Whoever he is.

     I did recognise this feller.  Art?

     Looks insufferably smug, doesn't he?  Conrad felt like going back to that sword stall and - ah, no, for that way lies madness.  Although it would feel immensely satisfying ...



*  Mister Hand apologises on for Conrad, who has obviously no idea about dates or romance.
**  Yes, I am working him hard today, and don't go on about his human rights being abused - he's not human.  Sub-human at best.
***  They're great fun until you look up and realise 6 hours have gone by and you need to be up for work in only 3.