Biscuits, Beer And Blowing Up The World

Kind of

Perhaps I exaggerate when saying “The World”, when what I actually mean is “Your Despotic Lair of Ultimate Evil”.  Mind you, if your Despotic Lair – look, I’ll just acronymise that to YDLOUE, okay? – if your YDLOUE cost you $47 million to purchase with another $50 million in landscaping (hey, nobody ever said making an extinct volcano habitable would ever be cheap), security measures, removal from Google Maps and GPS, then it pretty much is your entire world.

Orbit-capable missile not included

     In case this is too abstruse, yes, we will be referring to Self-Destruct Systems for the Average Despot.

     We will also be referring to a giant “cookie”, as I believe the hideous imported South Canadian term goes, when what they really mean is a biscuit.  Biscuits, I’ll have you know, were here loooong before the Overseas Ingrates ever paraded a banner and <dire speech about the history of baking redacted by Mister Hand>.

About That Biscuit

Yes!  As you may recall, Darling Daughter is a talented artist – she gets that from her mum – and as a splendidly personalised birthday present for your humble scribe, she created this –

     What can I say?  Super Sonic Death Weasels rule!  I think I’ve posted another hilarious sketch she did of “Carl The Weasel” although it would take rather too long to track it down tonight to post here.  Maybe tomorrow.

     Ah, weasels.  She knows me so well …

The Beer

This was Tom’s side of the present, and very welcome it is.  Rather a weighty slog on the bus home, however, as I had this, the Giant BISCUIT, my man bag and another bag with my lunch kit, coffee, cup, newspaper and spare book.  I took up two seats on the bus without trying.  Don’t worry, nobody sits next to me anyway, due to the little black cloud shot through with streaks of lightning that resides over my head at all times.

So You Want To Press The Self-Destruct Switch?

We’ll call it that for convenience, because the ’40 Newtons Force Hand-pull Lever” is less handy.  We already dealt with RELIABLE, now comes SECURE.

     SECURE:  Thus it cannot be accidentally set off, tripped or activated.  After all, you’ve got $97 million invested in YDLOUE and turning it into a rapidly-expanding cloud of vapour aunintentionally would be hard to take.  Why, you’d probably not get your deposit back.

     So, no voice-activated or word-recognition software, thanks, just in case any idiot decides to “Oh let’s see if it works!” on a dare.  Besides, what if you had laryngitis or a mouthful of food at the moment of truth?  No no no.  That lever needs to be securely behind a locked escapement, being a physical barrier that has to be unlocked to allow you to proceed any further.

Idiot henchmen; no self-respecting Despot is free of them

     EFFECTIVE:  to get rid of incriminating stuff, including useless lackeys (yes they ARE useless or you wouldn’t need to consider a Self-Destruct, would you?) you need to create a very big bang indeed, so you need – not merely want, need) a whacking big fusion bomb to do the deed.  A yield in the range of 1 megaton tends to make all earthly problems go away, I find.  Don’t carp about the expense or trouble of getting your (immaculately manicured!) hands on a fusion warhead, you’re a potential Global Despot in the making – hydrogen bombs are a mere bagatelle to such as yourself.

Saturday Working

Did I tell you I was working again?  Not only that, but working every other Saturday to boot.  This is a bind and a bother, because there’s no Metro on Saturday’s bus service, thus no Cryptic Crossword.  Thanks to the disruption at the Dark Tower caused by the mock fire alarm yesterday, I don’t even have a copy of the MEN for their version of the Cryptic Crossword.  Not only that, since I am working a full day (instead of finishing mid-afternoon as previously on Saturdays thanks to over-time) I’m not going to return to the hallowed halls of The Mansion until well after 6 post meridian, meaning you lot only get one BOOJUM! this Saturday, rather than two.

Our 18th Floor view

     I can hear your tears falling from here.

     Quick!  Quick! – check and see if Ben Folds is still alive – Phew, yes he is, it was only a sprain not a break and that’ll teach him to wander around strange hotel rooms in the dark.

That’s all for this session, I do have plenty more to work up for tomorrow, although I’ve not sharpened either my wits or teeth on Shakey Bill yet.  I shall go away and cogitate!