Dr No Know

No!*
I am not simply putting up a James Bond title in the fervent hope that this will generate additional blog traffic from the curious, although if that does happen then I shan't complain.  You see, I came across a paperback of said novel in our makeshift canteen space, up on Floor 17 of the Dark Tower.  Art?

The very same edition

     I'm only borrowing it, in case you were worried: I have a sound moral compass.**
     It is a fascinating glimpse into the world of yesteryear, being published in 1958, back when Perfidious Albion still had an empire,  the printed press was supreme, and chaps like James could drink like fish, smoke like chimneys, bed woman with gay abandon (yes, going for irony there) and still be regarded as a jolly good sort.

Pipe and gun: let's hope he puts the right one in his mouth!

     There is a whole chapter dedicated to which particular firearm Bond is going to carry from now on, and M lets him know in no uncertain terms that it's not going to be his old Beretta M1934.  It jammed on him previously, and given the calibre, it doesn't have a lot of stopping power; you'd need to get someone dead-on in a vital spot to help them shuffle of this mortal coil.  This is all entirely accurate, which Fleming probably knew from hands-on experience.  Being an actual spy and all.
     As well as technical details about guns, Fleming also describes the history and value of guano in some detail, so I now know more about Guano than I ever did before.

An island spit, made up of bird -

     We may revisit this subject, since you don't often get the opportunity to travel back in time and visit what was pop culture then.

 - unless you know this chap

     Right!  Now that we've exhausted all the puns about Doctors and No, let us proceed to superglue the motley to the aircraft wing and take off!

Still Banging On
 - about Perfidious Albion's anti-tank guns of the Second Unpleasantness, especially in North Africa.  Strictly speaking, the Bofors 40 mm was an anti-aircraft gun, designed with a high muzzle velocity to chase those pesky fast aircraft at a distance, and with a rapid rate of fire to put as many shells as possible close to those same pesky fast aircraft.  Art?

The article in question

     As I said, it wasn't supposed to be used to shoot tanks, though this did happen on occasion.  It's 2 pound shot had an even higher velocity than the specially-designed 2 pounder anti-tank gun's, although being a high explosive round it had limited amour piercing performance.  However, these things could fire 5 rounds per second and would almost certainly immobilise a tank by blowing off tracks, bogies, road wheels, quite besides jamming the turret and shattering all the optics.
     Perfidious Albion at work, eh?

Heh

"Werewolves Of London"
Another hilarious and dark musical fable by long-gone Warren Zevon, and it is indeed about what the title states: werewolves, in Babylon-on-Thames.  How can you not like a song with the lines "He's the hairy-handed gent, who ran amuk in Kent"?
     Although Kent is not within the boundaries of London, we will give WZ a pass there.  He did his homework, Mayfair and Soho also get a mention.  Oh, and HM the Queen, too.  Art?

Impeccably groomed, as in the song.
(Fan art by Chet Phillips)

     That does lead into an idea I had ...

Picture The Scene -
London, 1895, in the smoking room of The Zitonia Club, where the gentlemen detectives gather on a foggy night to discuss their latest case or cases.

Like this, but with fog

     One of them has a copy of the London Evening Gazette, whose lurid headline screams "Latest Werewolf Slaying!  Scotland Yard Baffled, Citizens Terified" (the editor was in a hurry).  They all begin discussing what, or who, is committing these ghastly crimes, when they realise a stranger is sitting in a corner, silently watching them.
     "I can tell you, gentlemen seekers, that these appalling crimes are not being committed by the London lycanthrope," he suavely yet sinisterly informs them.  Art?

Oooh, spot on!

     (this shows that he's being rather clever: "Ziton" is Greek for "seeker", and "lycanthrope" is the Greek for "werewolf").
     "How do you know that?" rasps Sir James Tolliver d'Arcy d'Arcy, the club's president.
     "Because," explains their strange visitor, "I am the London lycanthrope."

What do you think?  Does it have merit?

I found another No pun!

*  Do you see what - O you do
**  This is a lie <the unpleasant truth courtesy Mister Hand>