It's The End Of The World As We Know It

I Do Feel Fine, By The Way
Thank you for asking.  Personally, I blame Richard Nixon for starting the whole sorry mess.  What am I talking about?  Why, nothing more or less than the unleashing of Nuclear Armageddon across the globe! which is probably of some passing interest to you, being as you and I both live on the globe in question.
     I was set on this course by an article on the Beeb website that posed the question: "Does Donald Trump have a nuclear button?"

As if!

     Doh!  No, he does not.  Nor has any South Canadian president had a nuclear button that he could simply and easily press, in order to bring on The Big One, because it is SPECTACULARLY unwise to put this power in the hands of some venal hack.
     Ol' Rick once stated to fellow politicians - perhaps after one too many martinis - that all he had to do was go next door and "press a button" and 60 million Ruffians would shuffle off this mortal coil. 

Not quite my intent, Art. 
<sounds of an anti-elephant Tazer being charged up>

      Well, there are two problems with that.  Number One: there is no button;  Number Two: frankly, 60 million is rather on the low side.*
     Instead of a button, there is the "Football", a nickname given to the briefcase carried by a military aide, because all the original plans for Global Armageddon all had sporty names associated with American Football.  The football contains codes that the POTUS uses to authenticate any instructions he issues to launch/drop the Big Ones, and that aide never leaves matey's side.
     So there you are - another instalment in BOOJUM!s ongoing mission to educate you about how things work.  Although in this case, hopefully a work never actually put into practice.
     What's that?  You thought this was going to be all about REM and that (actually pretty splendid) track of theirs, which by AN AMAZING COINCIDENCE is exactly the same as today's blog title?  I think we can squeeze a quote out of Michael Stipe.  Mike?

"Conrad is blameless in this matter.  Honest.  Can you put that Tazer away now?"

     Now, time to put the motley into a shark-suit and make it run between electro-magnets!


And If It's Thursday -
 - then those teeth buried in my gluteus maximus must belong to the Coincidence Hydra.  Because, after going on about The Motley, what it is and how it arose in some detail yesterday, what did I come across in my Judge Dredd comic book serial graphic novel?  Art?  less coal more goal!

     Do you see what the universe is doing here?  I don't know what the message is, and it would be a lot more convenient for all involved if Universe could simply use Facebook.

Wordsmithing
I never tire of recalling how Sophie - no, not that Sophie, this Sophie - once called your humble scribe a "wordsmith".  The evidence is before your eyes, or whatever cybernetic substitute you may be using.  Art!

     Those totals to the right of the wordsquare are performance tallies - "35" is good, and "47" is very good.  Please note that all this was done between phone calls and without any recourse to a dictionary.  I know there's no way to prove that, but I do have an honest face.

TANKS!
As you know already, Conrad does have a bit of a pash about armoured fighting vehicles.  Quite by chance last year, I happened across a birthday cake bearing the livery of the 17/21st Lancers - "or Glory" under a skull, being passed around at the Pub Quiz.

Get it?

     "Oho!"  I immediately crowed**.  "The Death or Glory boys!  Riding into combat in metal chariots rather than horseback -" at which point I was introduce to Tom, whose particular steel chariot had been the Centurion tank, back in the Fifties.

<a moment's appreciative silence for the mighty Centurion>

     And last week Tom lent me three books about the Centurion, which I have perused in detail.  As a design it was around from 1945 and served up until Gulf Unpleasantness Number One, and even longer in South Africa, which is not bad going for something with a design spec from 1943.

     The reason for this is <Mister Hand redacts a 1,500 word screed about The Tank Triad that would reduce most readers to a state of glazed incomprehension>.  Art?

Quiver in fear, you snivelling Communist wretches!

Finally -
This was inspired by Dave, the Professional Yorkshireman - every invention from and including the wheel has come from Yorkshire, with the exception of Chorley and Eccles cakes, according to Dave - who regularly sojourns in Australia.
     Australia, where the wildlife fights back.  here's proof - Art?

     Although I say it looks more like a helicopter.  If anyone from Asylum Films or the Sci-Fi Channel is reading this, I'd be willing to write a treatment about "SharKopter - DEATH FROM ABOVE!!!" for the modest sum of £78,000.***


*  Yes, really.
**  It might have been "Aha!" - it was a while back.
***  Potential Sharknado #6 title?