Too Tooled

Firstly, I Would Like To Say -
WASH YOUR DIRTY MINDS OUT!  There, glad we got that out of the way to begin with.  I don't want your smutty innuendo-laden brains to read anything unpleasant into that title.  Once again I remind you, we the editorial staff here at BOOJUM! cherish our Safe For Work mantle, though we are also presumably on a watch-list at MI5 thanks to all our discussions about nuclear ordnance, and both UNIT and Spectrum take an interest in us.

|Nosey parkers!

     Okay, I shall now take a break from creating words of wit, wisdom and wonder, and venture forth - what's that?  BOOJUM! of course!  Okay, maybe only "wit" and "wonder".  Can we continue?  Yes?  Thank you - thank you so much*.

     <long Pub Quiz interlude>

     For we are referring once again to Jim Holland's most recent magnum opus, "Nazi War Machines - Secrets Uncovered" and the final episode, "Guns", which features enough information to fully create two BOOJUM!s if we were not frugal with the stuff.  As mentioned in our sister post today, the concept of "We are at war and therefore ought to cut corners" was utter anathema to the Third Reich; they were going to blast ahead slowly and painstakingly whilst observing the most stringent quality control possible!

The MP38

     As evinced by the MP38 submachine gun.  This was created out of a solid block of metal and was thus very, very expensive to make; note the grooves worked into the above version, for nothing more than aesthetic reasons.  Once again, it a made with critical tolerances and would not work properly if muddy, or dusty, or swampy, etcetera etcetera.  Also, thanks to the bottom-mounted (WASH YOUR DIRTY MINDS OUT!) magazine, you couldn't fire it prone, which meant you were more exposed to enemy fire when using it.
     Over-engineered!  Or, if you will, too tooled.  Hence today's title.  This was a consistent problem with Teuton technology of the Second Unpleasantness; they couldn't resist the urge to add on more and more and make whatever it was un-necessarily complicated - viz. the Panther's gearbox of over 60 precision-tooled pieces.
     Motley!  Let us prepare a pot of tea the Teuton way - first, we need to plant the bushes ...

Darjeeling!

The Saga of Dinky Dum, Concluded With A Happy Ending
One of the things about being Conrad is that The Muse Can Strike At Any Moment, which is awkward when in the shower with nothing to make notes upon (WASH YOUR DIRTY MINDS OUT!).  Hence this doggerel about a dog (do you see what - O you do).  Tah-dah!

There’s an Alsatian

Lives at the station

And his name is Dinky-Dum.

Be you crook or villain,

He will bite you on the bum.

He will bite you, and bite you

And bite you a lot more.

Until you lie

Under the sky

Dead, in a pool of gore.

 

All my own work.

 

There’s an Alsatian lives down at the station,

And his name is Dinky Dum.

He’s in a state of permanent vicious agitation –

He really is a one!

So, the station’s vet decided to load him to the gills

On tranquilising, pacifying, happy-happy pills.

 

(this is a work in progress)

 

The saga complete:

 

There was an Alsatian lived down the station, whose name was Dinky Dum.

He was a ferocious furry fiend who loved to bite folks on the bum.

The problem, however, was that he had no girlfriend of his own –

So the station vet provided one, and now they play hide the bone.

 

J

 

All my own work.  Commissions undertaken at reasonable rates. 

Small wars also waged, moderate-sized governments overthrown.

     An epic ode in three parts.  Expect puppies any day now.

"Black Summer" - A Brief Comment
I have watched half the first season and have a couple of comments to make, especially as they regard Lance.  Art?

The benighted Lance

     Okay, Lance, the Zombie Apocalypse has arrived.  Conrad has two suggestions for you:
     1)  CLOSE THE *****Y DOOR!  And, if it's an automatic door, jam it closed with something.  This applies to Rose and Spears as well.  Zombies lack the fine motor skills to manage tricky things like door handles.
     2)  GET A WEAPON!  A baseball bat, a tyre iron, an axe, even a carving knife gaffer-taped to a broom handle.  Anything is better than bare hands, matey, especially since you've got a gaping wound in one of said hands.
     Sheesh!  I know I postulated that BS is set in an alternative universe when the zombie is unknown, and now I think the collective IQ of the human residents is considerably lower than it is in our reality.   

Even this would be better than your bare hands, Lance.

                    
  The Pearl As Allegory
Conrad was struck by this thought as he poured the cleansing waters of Truth over the mucky myrmidons of myth - you know, when I was yarking on about the BBC's "Eight Unsolved British Mysteries" of which only one was genuinely unsolved.
     You see, that pearl started out as a fragment of grit in an oyster, which then had endless layers of accretions surround it, until the original fragment of grit is quite invisible.  Art?

Thus

     Thus it is with a lot of these stories; take the "Highgate Vampire" one as an example.  Some swivel-eyed loon on Christmas Eve, probably having imbibed a Tizer or two, thinks he saw something grey and ghostly in Highgate cemetery.  This has now transformed beyond all recognition into a Romanian vampire king and his acolytes being buried in the cemetery, who are or were being stalked by fearless vampire hunters and their minions, the whole lot being regarded with considerable suspicion by the Metropolitan Police.
     So.  What do you think of my allegory?  I might come back to this, as I'm quite proud of it**.

 - before swine

Finally -
Another of those things that will, eventually, make sense on Facebook when it all comes out in the wash.  Art?
          
     I feel fatigued just looking at them.  As you may be aware, these are people indulging in that repellent waste of time known as "Exercise", and more specifically they are performing "Curls".

     And with that, we are done!

* Once again, ferocious irony.
**  No false modesty here.