This Might Make You Sick -

Well, If You Have A Weak Stomach Plus A Strong Imagination
Also, your humble scribe is at present unable to sit comfortably, having been bitten in what the M8s call the "Fesses", by that infernal Coincidence Hydra - again.
     If we can make a slight diversion down the branch line of recent history on BOOJUM! (see how I effortlessly maintain that trains-and-railways theme we've had of late?), then you will recall Conrad yarking on about Ipecacuanha.  Art?

Can cause severe hoiking

     This stuff used to be used to induce vomiting in those who had ingested poisonous substances, the idea being that one hoiked the noxious nasty out of your stomach and - Hay Pesto!  All better.
     Except not.  Modern medical science now holds that this makes things worse, so old Ipec is only used in cough medicines to help you hack forth the lining of your lungs.  I mean, lungs - who needs them?

Apart from you.

     There you go, a quick recap.  Now, what was I watching last night but "Clouds of Witness", a Lord Peter Wimsey adventure set in that most exotic and distant of lands: Yorkshire.  Art?

A most splendid fellah.  By gum.

     Not to spoil the plot too much for you, because once you hit middle-age you will begin reading these things, but Lady Mary's fiancee has been found dead.  Dead!  Possibly murdered to death, besides.  Oh noes, how will they solve this without CSI, social media and CCTV?
     Anyway, it turns out Lady Mary is not at all put out by the death of said fiancee, and has been faking her languid sorrows, by putting her thermometer on top of a hot water bottle - and by drinking pints of Ipecac solution.  This makes her seen feverish and probably makes her bowels dance the can-can.  Bad Lady Mary!  Naughty Lady Mary!  No biscuit for you!

Lady Mary.  About to be sick?

     At which point the Coincidence Hydra attacked <sighs and stands up>.  Again.
     Now, we are going to drop the motley into the dead centre of an acre of thigh-deep cement and see if it can get out before the whole lot turns solid!

I Say, Mister Newbolt
Rather an inapt title: Mister Oldbolt would be more fitting. For the first time in many a year your humble scribe has taken part in an E-bay <can't think of relevant word> thing, and won it.  Art?

Thus

     The author of Volume IV of "Naval Operations 1914 - 1918" is Henry Newbolt, you see, who took over when Sir Julian Corbett shuffled off this mortal coil.  That above is the Mapcase that goes with Volume IV, and it's jolly hard to get I can tell you, especially at a reasonable price.  We shall see what condition the maps are in when they arrive and of course I wouldn't dream of not sharing that information with you.

Conrad Is Cross
I know Frothing Nitric Ire is my default state, but Really!  I can forgive Dorothy L. Sayers (just how many Dorothy Sayers are there, that she needs that "L"?) for not writing any new Lord Peter Wimsey novels because she's been dead these many years.  Art?

A moment's silence for the lady.

     However, Thomas Pynchon is very much alive, at least for the time being, and yet - no new novel.  Very shabby, Tom.  Get cracking.  Plus I expect regular updates on Twitter.
     Just as dilatory are those Nork electro-popsters Royksopp.  They have, I firmly believe, gotten better with age.  Their last album, which they said would definitely be their last, came out in 2014.  Art?

Laff-riot they are not.  In case you were wondering.

     They stated they would still be making music, and yet in that time all they've done is one solitary track.  At this rate it will be 2022 before we even get another single.
     Hence my seething tsunami of rage.

Another Nausea-Inducing Experience
For fans of the ballfoot game players Manchester United.  Or, if you are a Genuinely Horrible Person, an opportunity sit back and chortle at the invective and venom on display in the Beeb's 'Have Your Say' column.

Wow.  Someone can kick pretty h!ard

     As said before, Conrad has no interest whatsoever in the ballfoot game itself, and would quite happily have the whole thing decided by who can play Combat Tiddlywinks the better.  However, the comments are a source of citric amusement.  Nor do you need to know anything more about ballfoot than that i) there's a  ball and ii) people kick it.

Marvellous marvellous Manchester

     What makes the latest HYS so interesting is that it concerns the two Manchester clubs, City versus United.  United were, apparently, decisively beaten, which led to over 1,400 comments that were frequently hilarious, if you appreciate Schadenfreude*.  And I do.
     There.  I admit it - I'm a terrible person.  But unbiased - if City were to be beaten by United I would find the HYS just as get-your-popcorn-sit-back-and-be-entertained.

If I was a stick of rock, this would run all the way through it

Finally -
Because your humble scribe has a robust constitution, and is not in the habit of drinking creosote or eating deadly nightshade, he has never had his stomach pumped, which is a good thing, since his cybernetic substitute for a stomach would probably destroy the ward if pumped.
     Anyway, the correct term is "Gastric Lavage" - one for the pub quizmasters - and your modest artisan wondered what the process looks like.  Wonder no longer!

Not a fun process.

     Apparently liquid is injected into the target stomach, from which it gets - er - 'ejected', thus removing any unwanted rhubarb leaves or raw horse chestnuts**.  At the expense of feeling hideously unpleasant too, I shouldn't wonder.
     I say, Lady Mary - I've got this tube and extra-large syringe - I wonder if -

(Which is where we came in ...)


*  The only other HYS that generates such levels of interest was about how frequently our wheelie-bins should be emptied.  We parochials, eh?
**  Both poisonous.  Be warned.