VI King

You're Going To Hate Me For This -
Since we seem to be on a theme of Vikings this weekend, Conrad has decided to both assuage the public's eager desire for more Norse, and to pull a few legs along the way.  
     Here an aside.  Due to the dreadfully damp weather, with vertical rivers falling from the skies, it seems that fireworks across the catchment area of Babylon-Lite (Oldham for those unable to keep up) are far, far more subdued than they were last night.  This is good for those of us with nervous dogs, since it is incredibly difficult to educate a canine about Guy Fawkes, the political landscape of early 17th Century England, and how both relate to sudden loud noises.

The evil and sinister Guy
(Never trust a guy wearing pink clothes)

     Anyway, allow me to introduce King George the Sixth, or in Roman numerals, King VI, or, if you like, VI King.
     There!  I said you'd hate me.  Regardless, Ol' Geo had an interesting life indeed.  He started out in the Royal Navy, and served at the Battle of Jutland, where he got a Mention In Despatches for his conduct as a turret officer.

The B of J

     He later transferred to the RAF, which his stomach was grateful for, since he suffered from chronic seasickness: a horrid irony for a naval officer.  And he made sure he got transferred back to the First Unpleasantness in France for his RAF service, when he could easily have sat it out in a sinecure at home.
     Where he really came into his own was during the Second Unpleasantness, where he forged a capital alliance with Winston Churchill.  The two met every Tuesday for the whole war, discussing what was happening in very candid fashion.

Georgie with Monty

     And there I think we shall leave it, as our South Canadian readers are frothing with anger that they don't have a monarchy like this to look up to, and the Ruffian ones are frothing with anger that their monarchy is merely a balding dictator with acquisition issues*.
    
Well, I Caught It
If you recall, Your Humble Scribe has on a couple of occasions managed to miss a roadside billboard that began "Russian. Ruthless -" where I wasn't fast enough to pick up the rest of the promotion.
     What could it be? As per above, it might be the continuing travails of Tsar Putin, trying to hammer his country into a shape he finds pleasing, where the rest of the country demurs, meaning a whole heck of a lot of hammering.

Dimya, Dimya, will you ever learn**?

     The missing word, I discovered, was "Raunchy", which immediately debars Josef Stalin from anything cinematic, as he was a horrid little murderous moustachioed munchkin with absolutely nil bedroom charisma.  Unless - are they looking to history - 

Aha
(Not to be thought of as the Nork music group)

     Things begin to make more sense.  Here we see the incomparable Helen Mirren as Katherine the Great, a Ruffian ruler whose image has been rather - er - how can I put it? - traduced, shall we say.  Wholly wrongly, it might also be said.  She was very much a pioneer, a monarch who revered her predecessor Pyotr Velikiy - Peter The Great - and who wanted to drag Ruffia into the modern era.  Whether Ruffia wanted to or not.
     Okay, so now we know.  Given that Katherine's reign lasted for 34 years, one suspects that there will be more than one actor in the lead role, although with computer technology able to de-age an actor onscreen, who knows.

Not sure what to comment here.

     Excuse me, I think I need to go check on my laundry.  No!  I'm not trying to change the subject, if I don't sort it someone else will haphazardly chuck the whole lot in a hamper, which means having to then <shudder> iron things.  Also I've not had any tea yet.  Catch you shortly ...

"Lingua Franca"
Way back when, in those years that had not yet reached 2,000, there was a conceptual language which went beyond the boundaries of convention and geography in support of day-to-day communication.  
     NO IT WAS NOT LATIN!
     <Silently seethes>
     It was call"Lingua Franca", which is Italian for "French Language", because at this time everyone who claimed to be educated spoke French.  Art?

T  he Eastern Med

     This map, with some internal boundaries moving about a bit, will serve, especially the Northern part.  "Lingua Franca", as it was known (capitals there) was a language that included Spanish, Italian, Greek, Arabic, Turkish and - of course! - French, and it served across the Mediterranean from 1200 to 1700 AD.  500 years plus; not bad for a stopgap.  And, once again, It Was Not Latin!  Nor Greek***.  Forgive me for over-enthusing about it, it's not often I can say that phrase.  
     The original term "lingua franca" has a wider scope: to wit, a language understood across multiple other languages as a more convenient manner of communication.  This is why English gained traction in the Indian subcontinent as a means of communicating: if you spoke English then you needn't bother with the countless number of other languages and other sub-tongues.

A simplified version

Finally -
Just so you know, Conrad Your Humble Scribe is working the late shift in the Dark Tower next week, meaning he won't be finishing until 18:00, and thus may not make it home until 19:45, if he's lucky - RAGES AT FIRST BUS IN ANTICIPATION - so there it is, gentle reader, you have been informed.
     Hopefully what we have to regale you with will be worth it!

A metaphor or analogy or some such shizzle.

*  I know, I know, bordering on both Current Affairs and Politics.  So sue me.
**  No
***  You can work out an "It Was Viking!" all by yourself.