All The Sounds Of Fear (That Is, Popping)

Yes, Really: Popping
Stick with me, this might take a while.
     If you recall Conrad, he likes to stay with a theme where possible, because it lessens the heavy creative lifting to be done when creating these words of wonder <bows shoulders beneath the artistic responsibility>.  I shall say nothing of either wit nor wisdom, as these are taken as given.

Wit and wisdom made solid.  Plus, there sits Conrad.

     Here an aside.  There is, playing in the background, "Mackennas Gold", which Conrad is unsure of as regards the title - shouldn't there be an apostrophe in there somewhere?  The plot is that we have a party of ne'er-do-wells out to find a hidden canyon which is positively hotching with gold.  Gold left, right and centre.  Gold, gold, gold.  All the gold all the -
     Ahem!  Greedy gold-grasping gentlemen, do beware of the laws of economics.  If you introduce hundreds of tons of gold into the market, the price will abruptly drop and your millions suddenly become worth thousands, not to mention all the murderous minions of mineral millionaires seeking to savagely slaughter you because of the financial chaos you caused.

Nothing to scale it, but believe me that's an awful lot of gold

     Anyway, back on track.  I was recently yarking on about 'The Ark in Space', this being a "Doctor Who" dramatic reconstruction set aboard a gigantic orbital body-repository.  The bad guys want to eat the human complement, the humans would rather not - all the age-old cliches of space exploration that we know so well.
     Here another aside.  After learning what follows, your humble scribe sought out other staff at work in the Dark Tower, who might know what he was talking about and even (O remote possibility!) have experienced it themselves.  Thus Lee, who admitted watching it then when a small child, even if it was from behind hid hands.
     Back on track - as much as we ever do round here, since I had no intention of mentioning "Mackennas Gold" when I began this Intro, and look where that got me - and that astute Production Designer Roger Murray-Leach revealed an amusing insight into TAIS.  Art?

The Bubblewrap Beast Of Blimey

     Back in 1975 bubblewrap, as we call it here in Perfidious Albion, was a novel (and cheap) material, so the supposed giant "grub" here is actually an actor in green bubblewrap.  The trouble is, that surface he/it/they (delete where applicable) is crawling upon is slatted metal.  Wise to the ways of bubblewrap as we are today, you can see where this is heading, can't you?
     POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP
     Hence, when the grub is moving, there is either no soundtrack or Loud Music.  And the "Fear" part?  because small children watched it from behind their hands or the sofa.

     I think it's about time to get cracking on this work thing that the fools actually PAY me for!*

The Lion And The Unicorn
You know Conrad, a pedantic misanthrope standing ever ready to suck all the joy out of one or two of life's little pleasures, and nursery rhymes have no protection from his liverish eye.** So, when a nursery rhyme annoyed me by running around in my head, I decided to take my revenge.
     Picture the scene - England in the very early 17th Century, where the English crown (heraldic symbol the lion) is merging with the Scottish crown (heraldic symbol the unicorn), and some town crier, whom is being a bit of a smartarse with words, is holding forth with a rhyme.

  Red?  Why letter-box red?      Someone needs a trim

     "The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown," he intones, when with a loud POP and a distinct smell of sulphur, Conrad suddenly appears next to him.
     "Good Lord Aloft!" exclaims the North-West's grumpiest person. ***"You saw a unicorn!  The legendary horned horse?"
      "The lion beat the unicorn all around the town," continues the town crier, a man not easily distracted.
     "I realise this is well before the era of the camera and all that, but - well, did anyone make a quick sketch?" asks Conrad, who is equally difficult to stop once he starts.
     "Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown," says the town crier, sniffing dubiously.
     "It'd the tablets," lies Conrad.  "And I wouldn't dare get close to a 400 pound carnivore wielding only a sliced loaf."
     "Then chased them out of town," finished the town crier, loudly and convincingly.
     "Where are all the bodies, then?" continues Conrad.  "A lion and a horse with a prong versus a bunch of bakers - I know who my money's on."  Then he disappears, with another loud POP.
     "What a weasel!" exclaims the town crier.  "Hmmmm.  You know -"
      







 A Rare Event
A happy Conrad.  It doesn't happen that often, as orphanages burning down or busloads of nuns driving over cliffs are rare events.^
     There I was, standing in the queue at the Co-Op in Royton, waiting to pay for my nitromethane cocktail and coal sandwiches, when what came over the store's public address system but  the Fountains of Wayne and "I Want An Alien For Christmas".

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKTQmZHwDY4&start_radio=1&list=RDVKTQmZHwDY4

     It made me hum and tap my feet with a slight upward twist to my lip that might even be mistaken for a smile.

I Beg Your Pardon!
I almost forgot to explain the title's context, as some of you will be thinking what a curious turn of phrase it is.  I didn't invent it, though that hasn't stopped me from borrowing it, so I'd better attribute it.  Art?


     Covers courtesy Chris Foss.  These two volumes are a collection of sci-fi short stories by arch-scribbler Harlan Ellison, long the enfant terrible of the genre, though he's a bit long in the tooth for that status now.


*  Imagine peals of maniacal laughter here.
**  Is this mixing metaphors?  I don't care.
***  Conrad, not the town crier.
^  Boo!  For shame!