First Bus Fail

Well, Not Strictly First Bus Alone
However, old habits die hard and Your Humble Scribe is ever wont to revert to a bit of Bus-bashing.
     To what do I refer?  Well, bus posters, of course.  Conrad has himself a splendid view from The Mansion's front room of public service vehicles as they tootle up and down Tandle Hill, including their posters, which he takes especial notice of: they provide grist for BOOJUM!s film reviews.

The view from my window

     There was one which I spotted yesteryon, though it no more than caught my eye as a blur of pink and white.  Today I've seen it whizzing downhill, and I have to say the designers did a very poor job.
     "JOIN OUR CONGREGATION" it blared in large lettering.  The name of the program itself was off to starboard in lettering so small it couldn't be seen.
     Bad designers!  Naughty designers!  No biscuit for designers!

Stratocumulus clouds

     Googling for it only brought up a thousand achingly sincere church slogans, so have a picture of some cloud formations instead.  Conrad guesses, based on the "Con" part being emphasised in red, that it's a spoof of all those dodgy South Canadian televangelists, who get caught committing adultery whilst snorting illegal chemicals off the back of a rent boy whilst eating pandaburgers fried with leopard fat, that sort of thing.
     I might be able to catch the starboard print details if another bus bearing the same poster goes past uphill; they travel slightly slower and I'd have been warned by the large print section of the poster, which will come first.
     You see?  You see the craft and dedication that goes into each and every BOOJUM! post?
     Motley, did you buy these white strawberries or bleach them?

"Dave" Explained
Conrad has been promoting the Youtube channel "How To Cook That", featuring Prof. Ann Reardon, a food scientist who valiantly combats fake videos featuring foods, and (sometimes) very dangerous "life-hacks".  She has been paired on occasions with a chap called "Dave" whom I thought was one of her technicians; he gets to be the hapless chap who taste-tests some of the - er - concoctions that these life-hacks produce.  Perhaps "results in" is more accurate.  Art?

Dave.

     It transpires that "Dave" is actually David Reardon, hubby to Ann, hence constitutionally obliged to help her test gallons of glop.  Not only that, he appears to be a published author, with a book to his name.  Art?

No, I have no idea what it's about.  But I am curious.

  Dave defined.

Part Two Of That Docklands Revenge Tale
If you recall, Conrad was regaling you with details of a concert performance put on in the London Docklands, by a management company who managed to be staggeringly inept thanks to no experience and idiot staff, a combination that provides opportunities for schadenfreude.
     The un-named (but major) female star of the concert was busy performing in a giant tent with an audience of predominantly OAPs.  Given that this is a summer evening, the temperature is high, so our narrator, head of the stage's technical crew, orders that the side panels of the tent be raised.  Along comes the incredibly bitchy and abusive liaison from the management company, who orders the flaps be lowered, as having them up "Spoils the atmosphere".

Summat like this

     The temperature increases to the point where the elderly guests are beginning to suffer.  Our Narrator orders the side flaps raised, immediately lowering the temperature, at which The Harridan abruptly appears, shrieking and shouting that they be lowered, that she is in charge, that she is in fact Queen of The Universe*.  O.N. then quotes Health and Safety at her and has her chucked out by a pair of security stewards who were visibly panting to do so.
     After the concert ends, the Un-named Star goes to the site bar and is having one whale of a time with the stage crew -
     I shan't finish this now; you'll have to wait until tomorrow**.

The Docklands

Dangerous!  O So Very Dangerous!
We've not had one of these for an age, so let me inform you that Conrad has a childish delight in all things explosive.  If it's also poisonous and radioactive then so much the better.  If only there was a form of Sulphur Trioxide that was radioactive <stares into the middle distance with sweaty palms) -
     Anyway, I came across an old link, which brings up a list of "Extremely Hazardous Substances", the first of which is -
     Acetone Cyanohdrin.

A model of the beast

     It's an important reagent in chemical reactions to create acrylics, which means it's not going away anytime soon.  Okay, the clue for this one's danger is the "Cyano-" part of the title, as this is Cyanide.
     If you put C4H7NO anywhere near water it will immediately and enthusiastically decompose, yielding Hydrogen Cyanide as a vapour, and unless you were doing this ill-advised mucking about in a fume cupboard or with a gas mask, then you'd be - dead.
     There you go, not a bad re-introduction to Extremely Hazardous Substances.

Minute Tremor In Paraguay, Someone Suffered A Hangnail
Your Humble Scribe managed to lose his phone on Friday, which is a bit inconvenient - I can't take photos and upload them to the blog at present.  I have got a replacement coming on Monday, the specs of which I wrote down but which are far too boring to bother you with.  That's about it, really.

The Samsung A10

     That's what it looks like.  That is, like a phone.  Wonder Wifey will narrow her eyes dangerously at this attitude, but what the heck, a phone is a phone.  It merely allows people you don't want to know to bother you at inconvenient times.  Get me - I sound like Humphrey Smith and his attitude towards ALL digital technology in his pubs.

     Wouldn't you know, we are done-y done done!

*  Okay, I made that one up.  Seems apt, though.
**  Heh.