First, Allow Me To Introduce "The Invisible Man"
Charmed, I'm sure. Or at least he is, since you can't see him. I know what you're thinking and you are WRONG. WRONG! EVER SO WRONG! Just to be clear.
You, indubitably, are expecting Conrad to blather on about Claude Rains or Kevin Bacon and how, once the bandages come off, there's nobody visible! Art!
Hmmm. One presumes that they scared easier back in the day. No, you see I have been reading the stories of Father Brown, the sleuthing cleric as created by G K Chesterton (and more recently a long-running series starring Mark Williams), who looks as meek and mild as milk, possessing an unprepossessing exterior. Nevertheless, his mind is both as sharp as a razor and as calculating as clockwork. Art!
The television series updated the tales (creditably so) to the Fifties from the originals, which were set at the turn of the century. 1900, just to be clear. Not 2000.
"But Conrad, where does 'The Hitch-Hikers Guide To The Galaxy" come in?" I hear you quibble, querulously. BE PATIENT! Or I will turn you into patients.
You see (do you see what I - O you do) Mr. Chesterton wrote a short story called "The Invisible Man" and here we have -
SPOILERS! O SUCH SPOILERS! HOW SPOILERY WE ARE!
- an example of a murderer hiding in plain sight, for he was disguised as a postman, and was thus able to beetle around and bloodthirstily eliminate his rival without anyone paying him the slightest bit of attention. This may be the long-lost origin of that phrase imported from South Canada - "Going postal"*.
Don't fret, we are langourously making our way towards a conclusion.
As you should know by now, Your Modest Artisan is occupied every other week in a battle of wits and timing with First Bus, they of the deceitful and lying timetables, and Gosh! this morning as the 83 dawdled it's way into Gomorrah-in-the-Irwell, what was there in front of us but a number 81 bus.
It's almost twice 42, so there's your HHGTTG reference, matey.
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| Make do with this |
Of course I had seen it bimbling it's errant way into and out of Oldham Bus Station, over a period of years, and like the Killer Postie, it had gone in one eye and come out the other without traversing any grey cells between. So! I wondered, keeping a weather eye on bus stop information signs, noticing that they had the 81 up there with the 83 and 84, until they didn't.
Was this a possible speedier alternative to the often barely-moving services I usually patronise?
NO!
Looking at the timetable for the 81, it calculates that it has a journey of an hour into Gomorrah-in-the-Irwell, to which you might well add another 30 minutes as with the 83 and 84.
There you have today's title, which I hope has been explained*.
"All Around The Lone And Level Sands Stretched Bare"
"Ozymandias" you uncultured pikers. Because we are once again skipping lightly o'er the decades, back to the Desert War as shown in the pages of "The War Illustrated" and that montage I wowed you with yesteryon. Or, if not wowed, at least Hmmmm'd a little. Art!
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| No no no - it's a normal-sized bomb very close to the camera |
The caption informs us that this is a Boston being 'bombed-up' as the acker's slang had it. A fuse has not yet been fitting into the nose, merely a lifting lug, so you could drop it and not cease to exist.
The Bostons would go out in squadrons and lay forth their cargoes of misery upon the Axis forces, who would gesticulate and scatter, unless they were bogged down or taken by surprise. It wasn't easy to hit a target in the desert as they could always disperse, although doing that inevitably slowed things down to a crawl as units then had to get back together again. Then, too, the incessant bombing attacks had a serious effect on Axis morale, all the more so since their own air forces were stuck waaaay behind the front lines. British, Commonwealth and South Canadian bomber units, on the other hand, were based at well-appointed permanent airfields in the Nile Delta and could and did swan over the enemy lines several times per day. Art!
Swanning imminent
They would also bomb at night, with other bombers dropping flares to illuminate targets. This kind of attack was hopelessly inaccurate and unlikely to hit very much. However - and you knew that was coming, didn't you? - it did keep the enemy soldiery awake and jittery through the long dark nights, and a man who's subsisting on two hours sleep is not fit for much after a week of same.
Excuse me whilst I go place some chestnut mushrooms on the baking tray. Back shortly!
"Squid Game"
After the previously ghoulish games the sixth and final one is a bit of an anti-climax.
CONSIDERABLE SPOILEY STUFF!
There are only two contestants left at this point: Sang-Woo (whom you can safely boo) and his mate Gi-Hun (a decent bloke at heart). Sae-Byeok? She was badly injured by flying glass at the previous game's finale and as Gi-Hun went to get help, Sang-Woo (LOUD BOOH!) took the opportunity to kill her.
This was a bottomwipe move because it enrages the normally placid Gi-Hun and a knock-down drag-out fight ensues, where he gets the upper hand and prepares to stab Sang-Woo dead -
Except he can't bring himself to do so. I did say he had a sound moral compass, didn't I? Sang-Woo, in a fit of self-realisation, stabs himself and dies.
So - Gi-Hun gets W45,000,000,000, which works out at about £28,000,000. Yes he's rich. But is he happy?
Conrad really really REALLY hopes there isn't a second season, because that would dilute the invention and novelty of this original one. Let sleeping mysteries remain mysteries.
Finally -
Okay, I've binge-watched Squids from Storks, now I'm picking up "Midnight Mass" which as you might expect from the title is heavily involved with Catholicism. It has some longeurs, yes, but also a few verrrrry creepy moments, too. We will go into this in more detail at a later date, which must fill you with a warm fuzzy feeling*.
* Equally it may not.
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