What The Haitch

No!  We Are Not Euphemising Anything
I know what you're thinking (Hey that fancy D.A.R.P.A Think-Tank helmet comes in handy on occasions!*) and it's along the lines of "What The Heck", except you are Really And Truly Mistaken. 
     Here an aside.  DOG BUNS THAT COINCIDENCE HYDRA HAS BITTEN ME IN THE NETHERS AGAIN!
     What is it with the Universe that these coincidences keep happening to me?  <sighs>
     You remember that yesterday I was bemoaning, or celebrating, one of the two, the fact that for some reason that horribly catchy South Canadian folk tune "The Yellow Rose of Texas" was whanging around my head. I must have played it half a dozen times over the space of Monday.
     Cut to last night and your humble scribe was enjoying a bucket of water/bottle of beer/vacuum canister of osmium tetroxide (delete where applicable) and perusing "Every Empire Falls", a trade paperback compilation from the pages of 2000AD, featuring everyone's favourite proto-fascist lawman, Judge Dredd.
     SUDDENLY!  I'm afraid I was startled enough to use a rude word.  Art?

     "Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew -"
     This is the chorus of "The Yellow Rose of Texas" and is in fact a massive clue about the dark secret behind -
     - but that is a tale for another day.

The View From My Window
I know what you're thinking again - look, I will give it back to them once I've reverse engineered it and made a couple of working versions to better expedite my Taking Over The World, okay? - "I say, that doesn't resemble The Mansion's back yard very much, unless he's put an extension in overnight."
     Correct!
     About it not being The Mansion's back yard, not about the vertical extension.  Come on, how many Bob's would you need to add sixteen stories in the space of eight hours?**

     Yes, I am back in the Dark Tower for my Enormous Yet Coyly Un-named Employer, as there is a state of controlled panic on at present and they need every curmudgeon they can rally.
     After 8 months of being able to get up at 07:20 ante meridian, amble downstairs and brew a pot of tea, having to hurl myself out of bed at 06:00 and bolt for the bus was an unpleasant novelty. 
     Get used to this whinging, there'll be more of it.

Because Things Always Go Better With Cake
Except diabetes <shakes fist at diabetes>
One possible solution for the puzzling retention of a big, fat, grumpy, sour-faced indolent insolent lout - Me, if you don't recognise the word-portrait - at S- Ahem! - at Work, at Work, ignore that capital letter - is that Conrad basically bribed his way there with cake.
     It certainly cannot be for any aspect of his forbidding demeanour and personality, since you could get the same ambience in the office by sitting a sack of potatoes next to a sack of coal and having it growl every half hour.
     Anyway, here is some Norwegian Pear Cake I made earlier.

     <still cross with diabetes>.

Back To The Haitch
Conrad is vaguely aware of some South Canadian with a big opinion of herself, who goes by the moniker "Rihanna".  Art?

Madam, you have a huge forehead.

     Since I have taken an instant and unreasonable dislike to her, I shall now christen her "Rihanna McRhubarb", and here's where that crack about the Haitch comes in.  It seems that she likes her name pronounced "Ree-Yanna", with a silent "H".
     No.
     If you're going to use a silly made-up name, then I have the right to pronounce it any way I feel like, McRhubarb, and you are being called "Ree-Hanna".
     I have spoken.  That is all.***






*  NOT "Stolen" merely "Long-term borrowed".
**  5,600.  I worked it out.
***  That loud wailing you can hear in the background is McRhubarb crying.  Also, "Valerian" was a hot mess.