My Dogs Are Barking

"Forsooth," I Hear You Say -
"Has Conrad acquired another hound, the better to keep Edna company?  For our eagle eyes have spotted the plural of "Dog".
     Well done, and no.  I am using the word "Dogs" in the South Canadian vernacular, meaning that my feet are aching.  I have just returned from the Feel Good Festival in Ur-on-the-Roch (you may know it better as 'Rochdale'), where I spent a good couple of hours on my feet, it being absolutely heaving with nowhere to sit.  Art?

     However, I shan't bore you with the details today.  No, you'll have to wait until tomorrow for that.  Ha!*
     Time to shove the motley's head in a bass speaker during a rock concert and see how long it takes for it's ears to bleed!

More Of That Museum
Yes, I am spinning this out.  Once again, whose blog is it?  And do you have to pay to read it?  
     Quite.
     Okay, today I possibly irked some Ruffians whilst posting about the Crimean War, because we beat them.
     Here an aside.  Probably the only two things 99.99% of the population know about the Crimean War are 1) Flo Nightingale and 2)The Charge of the Light Brigade, that poem, which describes an atypical British disaster on the field.  Art?

Ruffians 1; Perfidious Albion 0

     At left centre you can see a Ruffian infantryman, wearing that helmet with the big pointy bit as seen in this morning's illustration.
     Further to the aside, Perfidious Albion's highest military decoration, the Victoria Cross, was supposedly cast from the bronze of a Ruffian cannon barrel captured during the Crimean War.  In reality the metal is from a couple of Chinese cannon, so that's one thing the Ruffians need not be cross about.***
     This is all by the by, as what I wanted to mention was the Lancashire regiment's involvement in the <grits teeth> American Revolution.  Art?

     There are a whole list of reasons why the <grits teeth even harder> American traitors backstabbers revolutionaries won, beginning with their use of atom bombs, nerve gas and jet fighter-bombers.  
     Okay, I shall end this post here or my blood pressure will cause every vein in my body to explode.  Just you wait until the next museum entry, though, matey.

Tanks!
Or, possibly, Tankettes! A tankette being a kind of Very Small Tank, usually operated by a single person.  They were big in the Thirties, because they were cheap, and because they were cheap.  Spineless democratic governments loved not spending money on their military, because war had very obviously been completely abolished, so why bother with a modest number of Proper Tanks when you could have a swarm of Very Small Tanks?  Art?

The Austrian ADMK Mulus

     This bizarre vehicle ("Mulus" presumably refers to "Mule") is evidence of another Thirties fad: tanks that could drive on either their tracks or wheels, because that way they could save track life by driving on roads.  Or so the argument went.  The above picture shows it with wheels up, driving on tracks, so naturally you'll want a picture of the wheels down and the tracks up.  Art?

If not Hell on wheels, then at least a touch of brimstone

     This thing was Austrian, which meant that the Teutons acquired the entire stock when they annexed Austria, and being the greedy acquisitive little goblins that they were, they undoubtedly used them.  Tonight, however, is the first time I've ever come across this beast, so I can't tell you anything more.  Sorry!

And Finally - 
Again with military vehicles, this time we return to the dark days of summer 1940, when the Allotment of Eden was awaiting invasion at any moment, and had to improvise desperately with regards to armoured vehicles.  Enter that towering titan of terror, the Beaverette!  Art?

CAUTION!  May cause enemy to die laughing

     I suppose it's one way to quickly move a light machine gun from A to B, and it's less vulnerable than a <thinks> bicycle and that's all the positives out of the way.  Thanks to all the extra weight of the armour Beaverettes were difficult to handle, and the tiny vision slits for the driver made even steering round bends difficult.
     Thank heavens for the RAF ...


*  Ha ha!**
**  Obviously this could continue ad nauseum, or until I hit my word count, neither of which are amusing or entertaining, so I shall stop the re-iteration now
***  Do you see what I - O you do.