The Artful Dogger

No!
And BITTEN BY THE COINCIDENCE HYDRA AGAIN!  Dog Buns, I make an oblique reference to Dickens and there's "NCIS" playing onscreen about a death*, and what do they quote, but Dickens!  Dickens and "Bleak House" and Spontaneous Human Combustion.  
     Okay, I know what you're thinking, and NO! That title is not a typo for "The Artful Dodger".  You ought to know by now that Conrad makes the English language do what he wants it to: sit up, lay down, go to the corner shop to get a new loaf (wholemeal of course).  

What it's not

     So, to - sorry, what was that?  No, it's a silly urban myth with no basis in reality.  People do not turn into blazing infernos at random and for no reason.  I think I may have already gone over this on BOOJUM! a while ago.
     Anyway, what I was struck by was a page on - What! What now?  You want a recap?  Oh very well <muttering fades away into the distance>.

Mr Dickens and SHC

     The explanation for alleged SHC case normally involves someone infirm or aged, usually the worse for wear thanks to the Demon Drink, who expires in close proximity to a naked flame.  Said flame then causes their clothes to catch fire, culminating in the Wick Effect.  This means - grit your teeth, this is quite unpleasant - melting human fat soaks into their clothing, helping to sustain a very long burning process that remains relatively cool - like a candle wick.  So the unfortunate is mostly burned to ash, without the rest of their environment being completely consumed.
     Okay?  Are we happy now?  Can I continue with MY article?  O thank you.  Too kind.

The unpleasant end

     Right, motley, we're going to send you to perform the noble and ancient art of Bog Snorkelling, and to make it interesting, we've added two dozen Stargazer fish in there, too.  Angry Stargazer fish.  Hungry, angry Stargazer fish.

A Stargazer fish

About That Title
As I was saying, tonight's title was suggested by an entry on the BBC's website, about Dandie Dinmont.  This, as per the article, is a breed of Scottish dog, named after a character created by Sir Walter Scott.**
     Enter James Cowan Smith.  Ol' Jim went to his grave a very wealthy man, and since he couldn't take it with him (being Scottish he'd probably tried and found it simply wasn't possible), he bequeathed it to Scottish art institutions.  As long as they put a picture of his much beloved dog Callum on permanent display.  Art?

Dandie, with prey

     Thanks to this bequest, the National Galleries of Scotland were able to purchase lots and lots of prestigious art they could never have afforded.  Conrad, who is actually better acquainted with art than you might imagine, recognised many of the artists thus acquired.  Thus, he was somewhat surprised when coming across the John Singer Sargent entry -

"Lady Agnew of Lochnaw"

     A fetching young filly, nicht war?  And  complete contrast to what is probably Singer's most famous work, "Gassed", which if Art will oblige -

Grim and realistic

     There were a whole lot of other artists on the list, whom I think we will get to know at a later stage.  Whether you like it or not.  Consider it a little education in the finer things.
     And there you have today's title.

I'm Not Sure If I'll Be Here Tomorrow
There's always some existential threat to Planet Earth - asteroid impact, nuclear war, fracking splitting the planet apart, weasels becoming sentient and with opposable thumbs, and of course - the zombie apocalypse.  This is considered such a probable threat that it's usually capitalised The Zombie Apocalypse, which will grant you scant reprieve when the rotting undead are incisor-deep in your innards.
     It appears that we have had another minor outbreak of the walking dead in Rochdale - AGAIN - that the authorities have 'dealt with' by allowing the survivors to flee to Oldham.  Art?

Those poor, poor people

     I must say, it's a bit thick of the local government to simply point people in the direction of safety and let them leg it under their own power.  So far whatever cordon is in place seems to be working, since I've not seen a single revenant shamble past my window.  That could change tomorrow, however, and we here at The Mansion might get evacuated, as we are on the main thoroughfare into Oldham, which is chock-full of lovely juicy humans and their attendant brains.

Mostly attendant brains

Finally -
I did go on yesterday about how we are genetically programmed to start paying attention to murder mystery fiction once we hit middle age, and had a bit of a general rant and tant about how adverts are pitched consequently at a particular audience.
     Well, here's more proof.  "The Mysterious Affair At Styles"is now playing on television, this being the debut in fiction of Hercule Poirot.  I've already seen it, but so long ago that I can't remember the resolution.  And of course I'm sat watching it whilst typing all this out, which inevitably slows down the production of words of wonder.

A Mk. I tank - Mk. I because of steering wheels at rear

     Conrad, whom we know to be a hair-splitting pedant of the very worst best kind, wonders about the timeline for TMAAS, because we see Captain Hastings recuperating from injury at Styles, and he has a couple of bad dreams that involve tanks such as the version above.  Not only that, at one point Poirot distinctly states "A bedroom fire?  In summer?"
     Not sure how elastic the definition of "summer" is, but those tanks as above did not go into action until September.
     No, no, you don't need to thank me, it's all part of BOOJUM!s service to you, the public (also it ups the word count).

Another Mk I tank.  Because you can never have too much TANK.

     




*  My guilty pleasure: popcorn for the mind
**  All the literary greats tonight, hmmm?