Strange Times

No!  Not A Comment On Modern Life
Nor, contrary to some folk's observations, do I believe that modern life is rubbish.  After all, without modern life you wouldn't be reading these lines, nor would I be able to type them, and besides, do you think that diptheria, smallpox and bubonic plague were all that fun to party with?
     But we are getting off-track.*  The "Strange Times" that I refer to is, of course, the third album by The Chameleons, those sons of Manchester who never really got the breaks they deserved.  Perhaps - oh!

     It seems Art is a Chameleons fan, he had that off the storyboard before I finished my sentence.  Well, the first track on the album is "Mad Jack", which is where we part company with music and change tracks mid-stream to -

     - okay, it's "horses in mid-stream" good lord aloft how literal-minded and nit-picky are you lot eh? -

Mad Jack Churchill!
The Allotment of Eden does not habitually espouse the Life Martial as one to follow, though it does occasionally throw up people who seem to find a purpose in battle that they never found in normal life.  The terrifying Paddy Mayne, for one; the rather more urbane Jock Campbell, for another.
     And then there is Colonel John Malcolm Thorpe Fleming Churchill, who combined a splendid ability to play the bagpipes with a fondness for surfboarding and killing the enemy in different and interesting ways.

Jack at far right.  And yes, that is a sword

     For one, although a warrior in the Second Unpleasantness, he is known to have slain an enemy with a bow and arrow, which takes a bit of doing to manage on the modern battlefield and survive.  Not only that, his prowess with a bow and connections to the old boy network meant that he appeared as an extra in several films, playing a - you are probably ahead of me here - bowman.
     With behaviour like this, what else could they call him?

More Of Mayhem
The sheer malicious fun to be had with a Star Trek replicator was touched upon yesterday, and we continue this theme today.  Safeguards?  Bah!  Intrusive nanny-state cossetting, I say.  Although one can't imagine the relentlessly touchy-feely Star Trek universe allowing replicators to be used without lots of preventative lock-outs.
     Imagine the scene:  Captain Shakespeare - No!  Sorry, Captain Picard, get it right, Conrad, get it right - does his speech.
     "Replicator!  A Pint of Particularly Potent Poison!"

Just what we want!

     Here an aside.  Yes, I am aware that the 24th Century will be using the Metric system.  Well, this is BOOJUM! where we avoid that horrid Continental nonsense and proudly fly the flag for IMPERIAL measure, and besides, I like the alliteration.  "A Litre of Literally Lethal Liniment" doesn't have the same cachet.

No.  Simply won't do!

       "Apologies Captain this unit is not allowed to dispense any products harmful to health."
    "Damn it, computer, this is an emergen -"
     "Kindly refrain from abusive language."
     "It's a da - it's an EMERGENCY!"
     "In case of emergency replication requirement concerning potentially hazardous substances, please apply to the nearest flag officer of Commodore rank or above, at the nearest starbase, quoting Emergency Over-ride Protocol 188917, with notarised concurrence from at least three other members of senior bridge staff."
     "The Borg are - aaagggh!"  <sounds of violent death>
     "This unit is not familiar with your idiom or syntax.  Would you like a jelly-baby?"   

     Well, it made me laugh.**

Although - didn't the Holographic Doctor try to fob the Borg off with this stuff?

Only We Can Prevent Space Sharks!
Yes, Space Sharks are a very real thing.  I refer you to my research on Google for verification.  Art?

Proof!   Proof, I tell you!

     "But Conrad!" I hear you quibble.  "Surely you were trying to remedy our stereotypical view of sharks as a set of teeth with an appetite attached?"
     Well, yes, but that comes a distant second to generating blog content.**  Oh no, what's this?

We're under attack! - somebody call UNIT -

     Of course, NASA is hushing all this up, as they are - er - institutionally evil?  Consummate conspirators?  Being paid by the Illuminati?  Busy putting salt in your pepper pot?
     Given that the ISS and all those satellites that enable your mobile phone are under threat, they are taking covert measures to deal with this invasion of space-going sharks.  Enter the Shark Shooter!  Art?

Right.  Harpoon the "satellite".

     Do you really think they're sending that thing aloft to hoover up space junk?  Not a bit of it!  It's obviously equipped to kill space sharks, with a HARPOON.  The clue is in the name.  Nor is that all.  Art?

Entrapment of another "satellite"

     I dare say the net is to acquire the lifeless carcasses of these dead sharks, so they can be towed out of orbit and sent spiralling into the sun.




*  Occupational hazard.
**  But then, I am horrid that way