After Alice In Wonderland
You know, when she falls down a magical rabbithole en route to the land of Wonder, which has become a metaphor for dangerous enchanted rodents, or something.
| Look at that - dinner on the move! |
Last night your humble scribe
had a fruitful little chat via Facebook Messenger with Anthony, ex-colleague of
my previous identity at Connexions. He
now runs a photography business, which is pretty much a given, as his post at
Connexions stood to underwrite his part hobby/part job of photography. He is familiar with BOOJUM! which he nailed
with a pithy description as being “the blog of randomness”. Well, yes.
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| He speaks truly - as this war-winning wonder weapon that never existed proves |
The format might be consistent but hopefully you’ll never get tired of
what wibble content we put forth.
He also described the process of reading these noble lines as sticking
his head down the rabbithole. To us here
it’s the opposite, of course – hence today’s title.
Well, that’s the Intro out of the
way. Let our lightning-struck postilion
lurch forward!
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| The postilion, afterwards |
So
You Want To Be A Supervillain?
Corks! I found my longhand notes, lodged within The
Metro – of them more later – that I’d discarded yesterday. So here is another instalment of World
Domination For Dummies.
Supervillain With Many A Minion
A collection of goons in
uniform will bolster your sense of self-importance. The workload is divisible with your able to
cherry-pick the good stuff. Again, with
your trusted bodyguards around you, it will be harder for anyone to harm you.
However! – and there is always a “however”
for supervillainy never runs smoothly – of course you have to pay this lot and
Woe Betide! You if the money is late or the cheques bounce. You can’t write them off for tax purposes,
either. The loot has to be divvied up
correctly – these are not the kind of people you can refer back to a paper
contract!
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| Evil henchmen - hard hat of soft cap? Only you can decide! |
The
Metro Sins Again
As you may be aware, Conrad
your humble hack is a one for Cryptic Crosswords. It’s actually worse than you think, as I
triumphantly scrawl a giant tick across them when completed, and also – this is
the really sad part – write how long it took to solve. 20 minutes is about the average, with 15
being a very rare achievement.
Thus, knocking it off this morning in 7
minutes was a touch perturbing – until I realised it was a REPEAT of one done
earlier this week.
Really, I feel a very cross letter
germinating.
A very cross word letter, if you will …
All
At Sea
Just imagine, if you will, a
world where cloning is commonplace and widespread. Clones everywhere. Of course, Hom. Sap. Being what you are,
there will inevitably be criminal consequences to this – clones used as mobile
organ banks, or alibi-generators, or witness baffles. Thus there will be a dedicated police
department, there to tackle such crime, and you can bet your long leather
footwear that this would inspire a police-procedural television program about
them, which will be called – waitforitwaitforit –
“Bane of Clones”.
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| Look at them, the evil swine. |
Having thus stretched punnery to either
new heights or lows (depending on your point of view and regards for language)
let us proceed to last weeks Game of Thrones, which did seem to exhibit a fair
bit of Deus Ex Machina.
As background, recall that Theon
Wasteofspace and sister stole the (supposedly) best ships and crews from Uncle
Murder. After a year, said relative has
not only managed to replace these, his replacement ships are of immense size
and in vast numbers. Clearly in GoT,
having your fleet nicked is merely a minor inconvenience.
| Iron Islands shipyards crank 'em out |
Nor is Wasteofspace or his slapper sister
remotely aware that they are being pursued by a vast array of super-ships,
which makes one wonder. Such a fleet
could only be created by an extensive, time-consuming construction program,
which once again Wasteofspace and sister know not wot of. Nor do they possess any ships in the role of
scouts or patrols or outliers or picquets, because, once again – do we detect a
pattern here? – they are taken COMPLETELY UNAWARES by the gigantic assembly of
battlebarges that pounce on them.
| Got it right there |
Of course, when push comes to shove, Theon
literally jumps ship. That Wasteofspace
nickname? Very apt. Given his utter spinelessness and rank
cowardice, one might question whether he has a pair of –
- Well, yes, and his scrubber
sister isn’t much better. On the cusp of
being annihilated, where is she? Keeping
a lookout? Sharpening swords and
spears? Getting the skinny from her
minions? NO! About to get frisky below desks –
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| Theon's role model |
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