Ha! Take That, Edna!
Of course - obviously! - this is only a metaphorical rebuke, as anything along the lines of a physical one would result in a homicide. Mine. Wonder Wifey loves her furry child so.
No, what I refer to is that I am present in Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell, at the very top of The Dark Tower, under a ruthlessly domineering edict to attend or offend. Well, I thought it would look good if Your Humble Scribe came in whilst the Nearly Top Of Recruitment was also in. Then I could show off my collection of pens.
This means that our beloved Wonderhund cannot lick my porridge bowl clean, nor hang around for a scrap of toast <imagine sad Edna face>. She turns her nose up at my cup of tea, since it has neither milk nor sugar present*.
ANYWAY that has nothing to do with today's title, which should have some of you wrinkling your brows in puzzlement.
No, we are not talking about a Sinister Cold War experiment to carry microfilm via flying insects between Moscow and Havana - cool idea, though. Art!
THIS kind of Mosquito
I have briefly alluded to what is formally known as Operation Frugal, where the Brylcreem Boys of the RAF whizzed over Occupied Europe, delivering vitally important diplomatic documents to the Sinisters. The aircrew found that their Sinister counterparts were well clued-up about the Mosquito, and indeed were very friendly and helpful. In fact the planes came back to This Sceptred Isle with well-wishers having scribbled thanks on the fuselage. The higher-ups in the Sinister Union, however, were another matter. They were, to put it politely, utter paranoid twods, who refused to co-operate with matters such as maps (provided but utterly uselessly inaccurate, probably deliberately) and radio beacons. Because as everyone knows, radio beacons are the most secret of secrets, never to be divulged to anyone under pain of death. Or something.
"Defend the radio beacon at all costs!**"
However, the aircrew were Photo-Reconnaissance Unit pilots of immense experience and ability and they were able to find their way to airfields no problem, which probably angered the Sinister higher-ups no end. Ha! <snaps fingers> that for your radio beacons!
Frank's Cranks
No! Not tanks. Aircraft, in this case. Aircraft were a major part of Frank's oeuvre, and he illustrated lots of magazine covers with real and imaginary ones. However ... Art!
NO THEY ARE NOT!
Frank departed this coil of mortal in 1965, so this article cannot be after that date. Go look out of the window. Do you see any atomic-engined aircraft? No. No, you do not. This is because building a reactor small enough to fit in an aircraft was impossibly difficult in the past and would be a tough design call nowadays. There are obvious safety issues, which is presumably why Frank depicts an amphibian plane; if it crashes on either landing or take-off then all you kill are fish, instead of half a city. One wonders what the service lifetime of these behemoths would be, too, because when they retire you'd need to de-commission their reactor. Or just dump them in the Challenger Deep***.
Back To Baldem
Because "Back to Bedlam" is taken. Yes, we are back with the BBC's selection of viewer photographs on the theme of "Derelict". One might draw parallels with those abandoned Migs and Yaks on an Albanian airstrip and Frank's ambitious (and bonkers) atom-powered planes. What's next?
Courtesy Amanda Thompson
That looks quite eerie and it's in full daylight. Conrad, being the massive coward that he is, wouldn't be found anywhere near here after dark. Is that fog on the water? The photographer says it's an old fishing shack that's slowly disintegrating under assault from the sea and the elements. And the monsters lurking just under the surface perhaps vandals.
WHAT DID I TELL YOU!
Good lord aloft, those South Canadians can try a chap's patience at times! What did I yark on about just the other day? Their wilful and entitled use of monarchical titles, AND their obsession with OUR royal family, out of sheer jealousy. I then realised I'd missed out one of their most blatant assumptions - Art!
Well if you insist - we'll be over any week now
I go to catch up with the madness that is South Canadian politics via "The Daily Beast" and WHAT DO I FIND!
No, not Lord Lucan having a drink with Judge Crater. This - Art!
Look, you pikers, you fought a war to get rid of the British monarchy. Show a little consistency!
Bah.
AND JUST DOWN THE PAGE A BIT!
<people across the globe suddenly become clouds of radioactive vapour>
I dunno. Should I move on with a rant about Codewords? My blood pressure is dangerously high already.
Castrati Imprecati
Conrad unaware if "Imprecati" is a real Latin word or not. It is now.
Yes, I have ventured to comment on Codewords, because why waste a good rage? After I've taken the time to work up to it, I think I'm allowed.
"CASTRATI": ARE YOU <long list of swears redacted>ING ME! Given that this practice has long been illegal, and is not found in regular conversation or written material, and in fact would only ever be found in ancient musical texts about choirs - I think Conrad is entitled to be SEETHING WITH RAGE! over this one.
Relevant
"JERBOA": Conrad is only thinking about you shiftless lot, who won't have the slightest idea what a 'Jerboa' is and how much champagne it will hold or if you need to pump it up before use.
Neither. It is the desert mouse, long associated with the 7th Armoured Division as a divisional emblem so of course - obviously! - Conrad knew all about it. Art!
Cute. BUT DEADLY! As above
"SWAINS": As in 'ardent swains' which is a descriptive term, not a person's name. It means a couple who are well up for it with each other, and the ONLY time you ever see it is when some poser uses it in trying to impress.
Swines. The best you're going to get.
Finally -
I think that's quite enough for one rage-fuelled day. My temper and I are going off to calm down under a waterfall.
* This is how tea should be. NO MILK OR SUGAR!
** A.k.a. Shoot first. What was the question?
*** This is very naughty indeed. Just so we're clear. Also, I don't want to take over a barren radioactive rubbish-tip, ta very much.
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