Cross About Crossword

Don't Run Away -
 - this is a legitimate complaint.  Yes really!
     As you ought to know by now - hang on, let me check that Warren Zevon is still alive - Oh.  2003?  Okay, you can't blame the Curse of Conrad for that - your humble scribe is a fiend for the daily Cryptic Crossword as found in tomorrow's fish-and-chip wrapper (a.k.a. The Metro), and he was stumped by several clues in yesterday's, amongst them the following:

"Airline that has no end of a good time (5)"

     This will stump you, too. 
     And now, as evidence of the Adventures In Bus which took place yesterday, I shall kick Art conscious and append a photograph.  Art?  Put that plate of coal down!

Bus plus driver

     As I see it, the driver suddenly developed a fear of driving a Public Service Vehicle (which I shall call Publicaeofficiumcarrusphobia) and lied to get us all off the bus, enabling him to make his escape in a colleague's car, which drove him to the
mental health facility First Bus maintains for it's thousands of victims employees.
     Or something.
     Today I once again left home extra-specially early, taking into account that yet another set of roadworks have grown up in Royton.  It looks as if the remedial work done to fill in the sinkhole of last week has breached a water pipe, as there is a pronounced and persistent leak in the same location.  However, rather boringly, there were no problems with either traffic or roadworks.  Tomorrow - is quite another story.

First Bus spokesdemon says "And?"

     More of buses - or lack of.  I got off the 181 in Royton last night, and after scooping up a few bargains at the Co-Op, walked to the next bus-stop.  The 409 was due in about 10 minutes, so -
     - I walked home, not bothering to wait.  It took 15 minutes to do so, and it was a wise decision since the 409 never turned up.  In fact I was sitting in my Sekrit Layr from where I can hear the bus go past, and it must have been 8:50 before a 409 went rumbling past <snaps finger at First Bus>.  I shall probably do the same again tonight.  Ha!

First Bus spokesdemon says "Hey - not fair!"

     Okay, time to lightly dip the motley in a tub of syrup!


There's A Story Here Somewhere -
There is a hard-boiled detective novel that begins "Down these mean streets a man must go", which is how your modest artisan feels when traversing the streets of the Northern Quarter in Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell (Manchester to you).  I get to see the detritus of the night before, in the shape of abandoned beer bottles, endless cigarette butts and of course the inevitable contents of a stomach or two, emptied across the flags.*
     However - the odd thing does crop up to gladden my shrivelled soul.  Art?

     That scooter is parked there every morning.  Conrad is unsure if the owner is still in The Millstone pub from the night before, or if they are just starting out on a full day's drinking.  At any rate, they aren't breaking the law; this morning I passed my new friend Mr Civil Enforcement Officer ("Traffic Warden" to be shockingly un-PC) who ignored the electric scooter in favour of a sleek saloon with an expired ticket (tee hee!)
     There you go; there was a story in there, and I dragged it out into the open.


     Oh, yes, the crossword clue.  Sorry, it slipped my mind.  The answer was "Beano", which reminds Conrad of the comic.  Cue to get Art moving with the cattle prod -


Featuring anarchy, disrespect for authority and child abuse (being slippered)

     The other sense is that of a festive event, although I don't think anyone's used it since the Thirties.  Deconstructing the answer, " -no" comes from "no end of" as it is the end of the word.  "Bea"?
     Thereby hangs a tale.  Perhaps a tail, for we are talking about aircraft.  The answer should be capitalised thus:  B.E.A. because it's an acronym for "British European Airways".  Not entirely a fair answer because they vanished in 1974!  They were merged with BOAC to form British Airways.

You've got to bea kidding ...

     So there you get today's title.  I don't regard it as fair that the answer is slang that's not been used for generations and part of the clue is an airline that went toes-up before most of you were born, and in <Mister Hand redacts a long, poisonous screed about vengeance, revenge, betrayal, abduction of the first born, rending of garments, etc. etc.>


And I've not even started what was going to be the core article, which was going to be a forensic analysis of the Axis casualty statistics for the Battle of Medenine.
     Maybe tomorrow ...








*  All the signs of a good night out!