A New Beginning

In Real Life!

Your Humble Scribe recently managed to weather the worst (remote) interview in human history and starts with Colleague Services today, moving on from Recruitment, where I had been working these three years.  If you want to know the difference, Recruitment deal with candidates up to the point where they become colleagues; Colleague Services then carry the can from that point onwards, as they are now a part of Sainsbury's*.

     ANYWAY none of that has to do with the Valiant.  Art!

     We have, in the past, mentioned both the comic and the V-bomber and today the tank comes in for a mention, because it's so utterly rubbish.  The official records don't mention what the mighty DAVID FLETCHER had to say about it on a Bovvie Youtube video that Darling Daughter pointed me towards.  Art!

Deadly dangerous - to it's own crew!

     As the Mighty Moustache informs, this tank was an amputation waiting to happen.  The driver's layout was so awful that he could have trapped his leg when changing gear, and the only way of resolving that was, you guessed it, amputating his leg.  The pedals were so badly arranged that, if he mis-trod, his foot would be immediately mangled by them.  If he mis-managed the change into first gear, the gearstick got stuck behind the forward battery, necessitating the use of a crowbar to un-stick it.  His head was constantly walloped by the hatches when driving with them open and with his seat elevated.  The brakes were so ineffective that said driver was utterly knockered after only nine miles, thanks to having to practically stand vertically on the pedals to have any effect.  Also, the ground clearance was only 9', so anything more than a bump on the landscape was likely to result in immediate foot amputation.

"This museum ain't big enough for the both of us ..."

     The officer present in the tank for trials duties ended the test after nine miles, thanks to safety concerns, which is probably eight miles too many.  

BOOJUM! Reviews Films

As we are wont to do - speculatively, hugely generalising and with absolutely no research whatsoever, because that's how we yaw here**.  Hey, if you don't like it go look up another Comsat Angels fan, Mark Kermode, he does proper reviews with common sense and facts and everything.
"House Of Gucci": Er - what?  Don't they do handbags or some such shizzle?  Conrad confesses he has absolutely zero interest in fashion and is instead more appreciative of Stanley Tucci, who is far more worthy of teh Interwebz attention than a bunch of crocodile killers.

"Stanley was ambivalent about Conrad's support"

     Yeah whatever in an eagle feather.

     "Ghostbusters Afterlife": Hmmmm you know Conrad is of sufficient age to have seen the originals, which he thoroughly enjoyed.  There was a reboot attempt a few years back which fell on it's bottom, and now we have this - here an aside, I've seen a few trailers from it already <hangs head in shame> - which has been lauded in muted fashion by - The Critical Drinker!  Who pretty much hates everything.  Conrad is torn and may have to invite Anna to watch later this week.

I realise that's not a review.  Sue me.

"Alladin": Not a film nor yet a television program, instead this farrago is a 'pantomime', which seemingly begs the question as to whether or not it ought to be given a pass.

     NO!  Art?

     Conrad is unsure which of these celebritutes are playing the part of Aladdin, and cares less.  One can only hope that the alien invasion begins with this venue being obliterated as the first step.  "Starring - Radioactive Vapour! - Matthew Croke has gone up in smoke!***"

     I did have more to review but - you can only read so many accounts of Remote Nuclear Detonation, can't you?

Poisoned Provender

Many years ago, when Your Humble Scribe worked at the Co-Op in the Electric Goldfish Bowl, we had a dramatic presentation about how the Co-Op established itself at Toad Lane in the twentieth century, in part because of the riotously proliferant practice of food adulteration.  Strychnine in beer?  Already covered.  Copper sulphate in pickles?  Yup.  Already done.  How about - lead!  You know, the heavy metal poison that turned up in Victorian sweets and wine and snuff - at which point I think we shall stop here, as it is rare to be given a gift such as that.

WHY!?

More And More Of "Tormentor"

You should know Conrad's modus operandi by now; if you don't howl with protests about anything, that's taken as carte blanche to carry on as I see fit, because lack of howling protest means you are perfectly happy with things as they are.  I don't care if this is counter-intuitive or repellent or whatever - whose blog is it, again?

‘You.  Oh, I don’t mean physically.  It’s just that you have the mindset to cope with them – “I don’t give a toss and I don’t care who knows it”.  Just until June next year.  From the whispering I hear, the LEA aren’t happy about a course where half the students vanish in the first term and they won’t allow it to run next September.’

Which, of course, left this academic year to run.

‘Do I drop my English classes?’

Rowell steepled his fingers again.

‘That is – well, actually it’s up to you.  If you take on these remedials in addition then you’ll be full-time again.  Of course, if you drop English I can replace you easily enough.’

For a second Louis wondered about saying no, dropping the whole lot and leaving college entirely, but only for a second.  Left to his own devices, he’d merely sit and fester and brood.

‘Don’t commit instantly.  I need an answer by the end of today, however.  Yes or no by four o’clock.’

Louis went through the morning on a form of mental auto-pilot, only really recovering at lunch-time in the staff room.  Out of politeness-sake, a couple of other tutors asked what Rowell wanted to see him so urgently about.

‘Oh, that lot – yes, I can see why they need you in to watch them,’ explained Shona.  Louis loved her Scottish accent.  He listened carefully.  ‘The Local Education Authority, and the Council’s Education Department, and OFSTED are all monitoring our performance.  If we don’t hit our targets there’ll be trouble.’

‘Targets,’ said Louis with feeling, and shook his head.

‘OFSTED,’ growled half a dozen other tutors with equal feeling, muttering between themselves.

     Conrad, married to a teacher for O these many years, can confirm this is EXACTLY how teachers feel about OFSTED.  "There's only one "F" in OFSTED" went the teacher's joke, which is perhaps skating close to the borders of SFW if you read it out loud.

Finally -

Our cuisine has moved south from Poland, as Your Humble Scribe is now cooking goulash for his week's lunch - goulash being Hungarian in origin <insert obligatory bad joke about Magyars and 'hungry'>.  Today's is already cooling in a tub.  Never got around to making dumplings, however.  Perhaps tomorrow.

*  "Sainsbo's" in the immortal parlance of Simon.

**  "Rock" and "Roll" were already taken

***  Actually fallout but who's counting.