Take THAT, Lofotens Cod-Boiling Plant!

No, I Am Not Stringing Words Together At Random
If I were, would you be able to tell the difference?
     Here an aside.  I have hitherto managed to avoid posting What I Got For Christmas, because everyone does that, and it's pretty boring, though still a cut above What I Had For Lunch.  Still, I did take photographs, so you are going to get to see my presents.  Sorry, but there it is.

Conrad, looking apologetic.

     Anyway, we'll get to that in good time.  As you may be able to tell from today's title, we are back to Norway and the Norks during the Second Unpleasantness.
     Okay, how do you make explosives in industrial amounts?  I shan't go into details here, as you never know when MI5 are snooping around and reading your text, though one pre-requisite is glycerine.  Where do you get glycerine from?  Fish oil, actually.
     You may be able to see where this is going.  The Lofoten Islands - Art?

Here they are.

     - are some of Norway's innumerable offshore islands, and were home to the mighty Cod Boiling Plant.
     Enter Perfidious Albion, all ready to be sneaky, peeky and <thinks> squeaky?  Perfidious, anyhow.  They sent a commando force that landed at the port of Samsund, captured 250 Teutons, 60 Quislings (Nork traitors), blew up 15 fish oil factories, including the mighty Cod Boiling Plant, and sank 18,000 tons of shipping.  This included the hapless armed trawler Krebs, which was taken on by 6 Royal Navy destroyers and rapidly blammed to bits, in one of naval history's more unequal fights.

                                                 Not really a very fair contest
                                                                                         (Tee hee!)
     The raiders also brought back rotor wheels for the Enigma coding device, which they purloined from the Krebs - really, that's just slackness because the British are just so light-fingered and everyone ought to know it - as well as 300 Nork volunteers for the Free Nork forces based on the Pond of Eden.  Not sure what happened to the Quislings, but it was unlikely to be a hearty hello and a happy handshake.
     Herr Hitler, it is fair to say, was hugely unimpressed at the monumental cheek displayed, and that his favourite cod-boiling plant had been destroyed.  Well, hold on to your blood-pressure, Adolf, because there's worse to come ...
     Now, let us sit the motley down and give it a nice cup of tea and a biscuit.*

Continuing On A Nordic Theme
In my own head, anyway, which is the one that matters round here, as it's where BOOJUM! in all it's glory/glee/ghastliness (delete where applicable) originates.  Art?

     There you are, what the well-dressed man in Oslo is wearing.
     Okay, okay, actually not.  This (very warm) Christmas present is apparently vintage in nature, from the Fifties, and you can tell by looking at the label.  Or you can if you're not Conrad, who has about 0.0085% comprehension of what clothing labels mean.
     "Quatermass would have worn it," commented Degsy, which instantly sealed the deal.  Hello O lovely sweater!

The Mordor Tourist Board
I made a rather throwaway comment on Facebook yesteryon, about the above entity, which naturally got me to thinking (usually a dangerous thing): besides which, I like helping the underdog - remember, Sharks Are Our Friends!  Imagine you're now in charge of the land formerly ruled by the dictator Sauron; how are you going to turn it's troubles around, bring in revenue and perhaps a new population?  Why with tourism, of course!  All it needs is a little imagination and a touch of <ahem> poetic licence, and folks will flock to Mordor.  Art?

Mount Doom

     Here is an obvious selling-point.  I can picture the posters already - "Come and see incredibly inferno-ic Mount Doom - Middle Earth's only active volcano!" because you can never have too much volcano.  There should be more blurb in smaller lettering -
     "See - where the One Ring was destroyed!  (Flameproof outerwear is available for hire, and our obvservation platform is secured with  crowdproof barriers)"

Made out of Mithril!

     "For safety reasons, no person over 150 kilos will be permitted to attend, as this is the weight limit our specially-contracted Rescue Eagles can lift."
     "Chestnuts, marshmallows and potatoes can be purchased along with a 125 foot metal skewer from the concessions stand."
     You need that bit about eagles because, with this being an active volcano, you never know exactly when it's going to erupt.  Plus, the Health & Safety Executive wouldn't allow you to operate without a rescue plan.
     Next in the MTB's master plan - bringing in the LARP customers!

Not To Be Confused With -
LRRP, or "Lurp", which was the South Canadian's "Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol", being a bunch of heavily-armed chaps who generally travelled behind enemy lines, dishing out bad news with guns and stuff.

Lurps a-lurking

Lucky you!  I haven't gone on about all my presents yet, which means there will be more on them in today's second post.  Something to look forward to, eh?**

Finally -
Continuing a theme, Conrad has vague memories of reading a novel entitled "Tiger the Lurp Dog", which, if Art will put down his photo-album of Mara Corday -

The volume I read

     Which is about a bunch of Lurps in Vietnam, during the third most recent Unpleasantness there, although I can't remember anything about it, bar that there was a dog.  Oh, and an unsuccessful recon mission.  I think this must have been a library book, as it would have been during my poverty-stricken mid-Eighties period.  That title may be a play on "Lap Dog", though that's uncertain.  What do you think, Edna?

Edna agrees.

*  This will confuse it terribly.
**  YES IT IS!