Peaky Blinders

For Lo!  We Are Back On The Asiago Plateau
Up among the lofty mountains of the Trentino, which the locals sometimes call the "Altipiano", where we re-connect with the 23rd Division of Perfidious Albion; a distinction necessary to make as there was also, along the same front, the 23rd French Division.  

     Whilst some foreigners may associate the Italian climate and terrain as being blessed with unbroken sunshine all year round, those who live in the mountains know different.  There, deep snow can last for months, and in late 1917 and well into 1918 these conditions prevented any kind of military operations on a large scale.  Art?

Welcome to sunny Italy!
(Two British officers and a lot of Italian soldiers)

     By June the snows had long gone, and Italian intelligence (usually very well-informed about what the Austro-Hungarian army was up to) warned one and all that the detested Hapsburgs were going to try a last-gasp, all-out, win-or-bust attack in mid-June.

British troops, Italian trench.  Note the Respirator, Box, Large that all are wearing

     On June 15th the attack began, with much use of gas shells in an artillery bombardment of the 23rd's rear areas, intended to hamper an effective response.  More serious still was the heavy mist that lay over the battlefield, which helped to shield the AH troops and effectively blinded the British defenders, who were unable to respond as normal with SOS artillery and machine-gun barrages.
     For those who have only ever heard of the AH army being rubbish on the Eastern Front against the Tsar's armies, this would be quite an eye-opener.  Art?

AH soldiers giving it rice

     Their artillery was especially effective, and their infantry came on regardless of casualties, possibly aware that if they didn't win this battle, then their outlook was pretty dire.
     Not until late in the day did the mists clear, hence today's title.
     What?  There's a television programme of the same name?  What an amazing coincidence!

Back To Lord Peter
Wimsey, that is.  You know, the aristocratic sleuth.  Okay, earlier today I mentioned the Rouse and Furnace cases, which were quite sensations at the time.  In the case of Furnace, he was quite in debt (thanks to have several mistresses at the same time) and decided to fake his own death in order to collect the insurance money.  

Some hideous details

     He lured his friend Walter Spatchett into his business shed, then shot him dead.  Thanks, Sam, what a friend you are.  Sam then typed out a suicide note and set the shed ablaze, not before emptying Walter's wallet.  Gosh, Sam, with friends like you!
     The coroner, being of a suspicious and worldy nature, immediately found the bullet wounds on the corpse, and some unburned documents that proved it was a very expired  Walter who had been dead in the shed.  Mister Furnace was rapidly tracked down and slung in pokey, where he practically confessed by committing suicide via a bottle of hydrochloric acid.
     As Lord Peter remarks, the killer in "In The Teeth Of The Evidence" had obviously studied both cases to see where the dirty curs responsible had gone wrong.  Sadly for him, he wasn't a good enough dentist to fool either Lord Peter or Lord Peter's dentist.

The scene of the crime

     I think that's enough ghastly period detail for that.  Oh, is that next-door neighbour's barbecue I can smell?  Hope I haven't spoiled your appetite.  Chin chin!
     
In The Valley Of The Uncanny
Let me explain a little.  The "Uncanny Valley" phenomenon is one where you Hom. Sap. get up close to a robot or android or even an on-screen animation, which is almost absolutely convincing, except not quite.  Said entity may hit 90% or 95% or even 99% realism, yet it never actually manages that.
     This not-quite-there manages to evince a feeling of unhappiness or dread in the observer, who is aware that there is a subtly "off" feeling about the thing.  Art?

Getting there, getting there ...

     Now, let us jump abruptly to that classic dramamentary series "Doctor Who", and a period when the Outraged Guardians Of Public Propriety were always having a go at it, because it was so unsuitable for children. As if!  Art?

It's pronounced "Dee-Ahth"

     The robots in this serial were obviously stylised in their portrayal of a human face, but they moved around and generally behaved like a human would (if they were a bit zoned-out on pot, that is).

"V" stands for "Voc"

     The V-class robots were able to talk, and in an unalterable placid monotone, regardless of what they were doing - working a control panel, fetching heavy stores, trying to murder humans - 
     This divorce between action and emotional expression is probably where the cod phrase "Robophobia" comes from, as suffered from one of the humans, Poul.

Before he loses the plot

     Poor old Poul.  His mental breakdown thus has very deep roots, and it's rather tasteless to rag on him for suffering what you might very well experience if you were in the constant presence of what Leela calls the "Creepy mechanical men".  See?  She's a warrior born and bred, and even she doesn't like 'em.

O I say!  Whoever would have guessed!*

     I am also minded of a short story written in about 1915, by that splendidly imaginative grumpy old man Ambrose Bierce, called "Moxon's Master".  In it - I think, it's been a while - a genius called Moxon builds what we today would call an android, it being a robot in the shape of a man, with a face that depicts deep, cool concentration upon a knotty subject matter.  He programs it to play chess against him, and all is well.  For a while.

Er - thank you, Google.  "Moxon's Master"

          It all goes horribly wrong in the end, of course, and the robot ends up strangling poor old Moxon to death, this being observed by the narrator, who expounds how the expression of deep, cool concentration never wavers for a second.

     And now, having hopefully made it difficult for you to sleep tonight, I shall take my leave ...


*  Honestly, I had no idea.  Trust me, I have an honest face.