Belgian Waffles

No!  I Do Not Mean A Type Of Confectionery
And in fact this flippant and casual description might not go down well in Belgium, where they do not cherish the memory of being invaded and occupied by the Teutons twice in one century.  Art?

<Conrad is slavering>

     The kind of waffling I talk about is the sort that is read, not eaten, and I refer to the First Unpleasantness, when indeed The Land Of Beer And Chocolate was occupied by the bally Hun, who were uncivilised to the point of passing the port to the right and banning the national newspaper, "La Patriote".*
     Here an aside.  The Belgians did not meekly sit down and accept being occupied, and there was a lot of sabotage carried out to begin with, including acts such as blowing up canals with explosive-laden narrowboats.  Reprisals meant the King Of The Land Of Beer And Chocolate ordered such measures to cease, which meant that the various resistance groups smuggled over 30,000 men out of under the Teuton noses who then joined the Belgian Army.  They also -
     - created "La Libre Belgique", an underground newspaper.  Art?

Thus

     This particular rag must have infuriated the occupying Teutons, because they never managed to shut it down, and it ran to 171 issues over the course of the war, which is shifting a fair bit of newsprint even when you're not groaning under the oppression of a jackboot on your throat.  And there is nothing your average tinpot tyrant detests more than the written word, when they're not writing it.
     The valiant resisters of The Land Of Beer And Chocolate (I like that nickname! and it's also accurate) continued to publish their waffle during the Second Unpleasantness, which is a story for another day.

Caution!  Some Belgians come equipped with fangs!

     Time to send the motley down into the alligator and rat-infested sewers armed with nothing more than a couple of sirloin steaks!

The Coincidence Hydra Bites Again
For those who have arrived more recently, I should explain that the coincidences which consistently plague me used to be described as "being hit with the coincidence hammer", to which was usually appended a plaintive " - again!"
     Why did I stop with the hammer analogy?
     Because I was in danger of developing concussion, that's why!  Art?

Hmmmm - we will let this one stand

      Anyway, there I was yesterday, Googling for "Dangerous Children's Toys" because hey, every man should have a hobby!  And what did I come across but the "Gilbert U238 Atomic Energy Lab".  Yes, really.  Art?

Caution!  Do not - NOT! - open samples
(As an hideous lingering death may offend)

     This caused hackles to be raised in the later Fifties and Sixties, because "radioactive" is usually associated with "DANGER DANGER DANGER GETTING WITHIN A YARD OF THIS TOXIC SHIZZLE WILL MELT YOUR FACE OFF AND KILL YOU SLOWLY", followed by an absolute forest of exclamation marks - see the caption that idiot Art has added above.
     In reality the four sample jars contained ores with varying uranium content; in order to be at risk from the carnotite sample, for example, you'd need several tons of the stuff, from which you'd then have to extract the uranium, which would yield less than an ounce.  So a sample jar containing all of a fraction of an ounce of unrefined ore - no so risky.

Tell HIM that!

      All of which is kind of beside the point, because I wanted to list some of the bits of kit that came with this laboratory: a cloud chamber, a Geiger counter, an electroscope and -
     - a SPINTHARISCOPE!  Art?

DANGER!  DANGER!  WILL MELT THE EYEBALL FROM YOUR FACE!
(Or not)

     Which was mentioned on BOOJUM! for the first time ever yesterday, because I'd not heard of this device before Tuesday.
     Hence - the Coincidence Hydra nipping at my nethers <plaintively> again.

You - WHAT!
Okay, I have taken some pains to go over the potential hazards of the Gilbert Atomic Energy Lab, and an accompanying image on Google caught my eye.  Well, if you can call that when my eyes came out like organ stops and a baffled expostulation split the air.  Art?  Provide the evidence.

"Dog Buns"**

     The fine print does say "with battery" so my worries that this was a miniature PWR (Pressurised Water Reactor, that is, the most basic type of atomic pile) is probably unfounded, but I can only say that provisionally as this will need a bit of research and I'm due to start work in 2 minutes.  120 seconds not long enough to put mine (and your) minds at rest.  I shall get back to you on this.  Art?

Hmmmm.

     Aha.  It transpires that this is actually a miniature steam engine, energy for heating the water thanks to the battery, no radioactive Death Salts involved, which is - well, a little boring.  Unless, of course, there is a risk of scalding injury from superheated steam!  That would be cool! (to confuse analogies)

Finally -
There is a rich field of questionable tin toys from the Fifties and Sixties, back when men were men (usually smoking cigarettes), atom bombs were - er - the bomb, and it was your patriotic duty to buy kit for your children that extolled the virtues of Mutually Assured Destruction.  Art?

Blow up your neighbours!  Seconds of fun!  Years of fallout promised!

     This particular item is South Canadian in origin, typical of the kind of terrestrial terminators you can find with a quick Google.  I wonder if the Sinisters plied their youngsters with thrilling primary-coloured representations of thermonuclear megadeath?  I may have to check up on that, and get back to you.    
     With the above particular plutonium-powered puppy,*** you could threaten your neighbours with atomic immolation by cranking the handle, then pressing the button, whereupon your missile would shriek forth and terrify the cat.  Looking at this thing, I imagine the real danger was the numerous sharp edges, which might easily cause significant traumatic injury, and the paint was probably liberally larded with lead.
     Ah, me, the good old days!


*  The unspeakable swine!
**  That was the expostulation.
***   Metaphorical plutonium.