Ace Of Spades

That's Me!
Or it will be, shortly.  

A spaceship.  Because I like 'em.

I say this as we are now experiencing mild blizzard conditions at The Mansion, much to the delight of Wonder Wifey, who does not have to trudge in the nasty grey slush to and from the bus stop.  Nor, pleading infirmity (which does not get your humble scribe off) can she shovel piles of the stuff out of the way.  We are not able to salt the path once cleared, nor cast patented non-sodium chloride ice-blaster upon the laboriously cleared routes, for "Edna might get it on her paws and lick them", which is a crime for the ages*.
     I think we can manage a proof of this weather.  Art?

     Of course, the closer I got to Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell, the less snow there was, and the more rain there was, which is pretty much business as usual for the grim grey city, which might be inspiring but is certainly not pretty.
     Also, one ought not to doubt the efficacy of Oldham Council's weather prediction service.  Roadworks - those they are hopeless with, as for an example it took them 8 weeks to replace a set of 6 traffic lights, and, as our First bus plodded slowly through them this morning, they were still painting white lines.  This is Royton, after all, that we're talking about here, not the adrenaline-fuelled incessant rush of ceaseless inner-city traffic.
     Right, back to the weather.  Whilst dog-walking last night, in the woeful wet weather, water upon the ground and falling from the skies, I spotted a council gritting-lorry.
     "As if!" I sneered.  Or was it mocked?  Perhaps castigated?  My meaning was clear; it wasn't nearly cold enough for the gritters to be out, and besides that, it was so wet that no self-respecting snow would stick around.
     The Irony Osprey came and pecked my head this morning.  Art?

     Okay!  Now that I have laid a little chill upon your hearts, time to chase the motley with a pair of hungry wolfhounds!**

                                          Ace!

I Cannot Resist
 - an invitation to punnery, as you ought to well know by now.  This blog is concrete evidence.  So I keep my eyes peeled for any invitation that might arise on Twitter; although if I come late to the party, and the title has thousands or entries, I don't bother as I'll probably only be mirroring what's already there.
     So!  Imagine my cackling delight when I spotted "#MakeAFilmAngry" on Twitter, with NO posted total next to it.  Actually, no, don't imagine my cackling delight, it conjures up quite a nasty image.
     Anyway, here are some of the puns I posted:

The Empire Skrikes Back
Harry Rotter and the Goblet of Ire
Dante's Pique
Spartacuss
The Wind-up in the Willows
Very Cross of Iron

     I did have a couple that didn't make the grade -

The Incredible Stinking Man

     - because it's not so much angry as disgusting, and -

Brokeback Paraplegic

     - because it's in frightful bad taste.

"Hey!  I'm tiny - I can't smell that bad!"

Sharkspeare!
I think this is a brilliant concept.  Your mileage may vary, but once again, whose blog is it?
  Anyway, it would perform a double function:  firstly, it would embarrass and humiliate Windbag Willie Shakespeare, which is always a good thing in my book; secondly, it would promote the shark as a thing of wonder and beauty, because there are scads of poseurs out there who would faint in coils at the prospect of reading Bill's shopping list, and they would immediately take a liking to the shark as a result.
     I did try a little subtle promotion at work, with a couple of punchlines to promote it.

     "Sharkspeare - drama with a bite!"

     "Sharkspeare - the fin is in!"

     You might be more likely to think kindly of the shark if it featured in "The Comedy of Terrors" or "The Taming of the Slew", wouldn't you?

     Right, time to go heat up that risotto and fortify the inner man - on a verrry late lunch today.  Later, humans!

A World Of Weird In The Water
I did mention yesterday that the Hammerhead shark looks as if someone went potty with a gene-splicer and forgot to keep the gates shut.
     Well, pardon me, but there is another shark out there even more bizarre than the Hammerhead.  Sorry, Hammerhead.  Meet the Winghead Shark.  Art?

She's nailed it

     I think we can agree that this is Mother Nature just being silly.  I daresay if we ever get to trawl the abyssal deeps that we'll discover a shark that is all hammerhead and no body, yet which still has an hideous array of teeth - hello?  Asylum Films?  I think I have a treatment for you ...




*  I will get into trouble over this, rest assured.  Tee hee!
**  Don't worry, motley's taste horrid.