Mars And Hyenas

The Two Staples Of Every Blog*

As you should surely have noticed by now, Conrad is trying out the 'Antic Slab' font, for no other reason than that he felt like it.  I can do that; once again, whose blog is it?

     Rokey-dokey pinky-pokey, let us proceed.  First up is Mars.  Art!

     A fine high-definition shot of the Red Planet.  An apt screensaver for someone who is quite interested in astronomy, and which disappeared within the day.  Your Humble Scribe is unsure exactly why it came up, nor why it went.  Nice while it lasted (like Planet Earth).  Note how I have avoided any punnery in this Intro, because it's the season of goodwill, and a little good taste goes a long way.

     Next up: a hyena, singular, which I hope you're not too disappointed in.  I know it can be crushing if one expects a <whatever the collective noun for a group of hyenas is> and you end up only getting one.  There are two photos of the same beast, however, so maybe that will take some of the sting away.  Art!

Bad hyena!  Naughty hyena!  Get out of the drier!

     Yes, that is a tumble-drier.  And yes, the hyena was sitting inside it.  No, I do not know why.  Conrad not an expert on animal psychology, still less African pack omnivores.  Pining for solitude?  There is additional footage of this beast running around a kitchen, whining like an electric starter motor whilst waiting for breakfast to be served.  If that's the kind of noise hyenas make when anxious, one would not wish to hear them laugh.

     There you go, a nice brief Intro for once.  No Motley today, it's off building a snowman out of frozen carbon dioxide.

Forsooth And Stap Me Vittles

For we are back on that most iconic of all legends, King Arthur, as imagined by Sir Thomas Malory and "La Mort D'Arthur" again.  I am going back to Sir Launcelot De Lake, as he was off on a quest for adventures, and many a joust he had.  His fame preceded him, rather, and anyone who recognised his coat of arms would give him a wide berth, unless they had a severe case of Sudden Death Wish.  Art!

     Here we come to the strange tale of Sir Phelot, who was a varlet.  Sir Tom has it that Sir LDL was trudging by, in full armour, with sword and shield and lance, when he beheld a falcon get trapped atop a tall tree, thanks to it's tethers getting caught**.  A lady appears on the scene and beseeches Sir LDL to rescue it, or her husband will surely kill her for letting his best kestrel escape.  Being a sucker for a pretty face, Sir LDL doffs his sword, shield, lance and armour and climbs the tree -

     At which point Sir Phelot appears, on horseback, armed and armoured, and all ready to kill Sir LDL whilst he is (apparently) defenceless.  It was all a trick, you see <gasps of horror from the audience, who were not forewarned enough by matey being deemed a varlet it seems>.

     However, this is Sir LDL we are talking about here.  He breaks off a "rownsepyk" which we would call a branch, leaps down off the tree, dodges Sir Phelot's inaccurate slice, knocks him bandy and off his horse, siezes his sword and promptly chops his head off.

     "Why did you do that!" wails the treacherous wife, whom it seems has a very tenuous grasp of the real world, almost like claiming to have won an el - but no, not going there. Sir LDL, being a proper knight, leaves her strictly alone.  Yeah, he lets her faint away next to dead hubby, when he could at least have given her a spanking.  I suppose she'll relive the whole thing when she awakens next to un-whole hubby. 

CAUTION!  Do not challenge unless undead or immortal

     Conrad thinks this tale stretches plausibility very thinly.  Did they plot to loose the hawk and have it entrap itself deliberately?  Or had it done this before?  If so, how did they get it back?  What if Sir LDL had no head for heights?  Why is Sir Phelot dead set on seeing the insides of Sir LDL?  They have never met before.  Or is Sir P. the medieval world's first serial killer?

     Too many questions!  Of course, I could be overthinking this ...

Conrad Remembers He Is Still Angry

More angry than usual, anyway.  Yes, that Dog Buns! Codeword.  One of the solutions was "DOH", which Your Humble Scribe is pretty certain is verging on cheating.  Either they mean the expostulation of that moron Homer Simp, which is a populist slang word without ANY provenance in the English language, or it's part of that musical scale.  

Evil incarnate!

     I'M NOT HAVING IT!

     Then there was the solution "BIOPIC".  Just NO.  NO!  At the very least there should be a hyphen in this horrid South Canadianism, which ONCE AGAIN has no provenance in the English language.  I'm not even going to check my Collins Concise, for fear of having to throw it with great force against the wall***.

Conrad Calms Down Again

For I am wearing one of the bestest Christmas presents ever, and those of the Society Of Twentieth Century Wargamers who bother to read these words (hello Richard!) will be envious.  Art!

     They fit well and are jolly toasty.  It's not apparent since I've not taken a picture of the carrier bag they came in, but they hail from Russia - you can see the flag embroidered onto them, which is a tad ironic given that the tank they are modelled on seems to be the iconic Teuton Tiger tank.  War, and knitting betimes, makes for strange bedfellows (which would be a great name for a band, don't you think?)

Finally -

Because Darling Daughter was up for the day yesteryon, we rewatched last year's "Worzel Gummidge" as it was new to her.  A charming, gentle comedy program that even that mighty academic Professor Gary Sheffield liked, and Conrad would bet folding money that South Canadians would go ga-ga for it.  Art!

Professor Gary Sheffield

Worzel Gummidge

     And with that, we are done!
     

*  Or is that just me?

**  Okay, okay: "Jesses".  There.  Happy now?

***  Before stamping on it, axing it, then dousing it in lighter fluid and setting it alight.