In Very Bad Taste

 No!  I Do Not Refer To Peter Jackson's Debut Film

Which took years to make on a budget that made a shoestring look wildly generous.  It is wildly inventive - O it's about humanoid aliens taking over a small New Zealand town so they can harvest the locals for their meat content.   The Sterling sub-machine guns and the RPG were all scratch-built by Pete and Co.  Well worth a watch.  Art!

     ANYWAY once again we focus on what we're not talking about - get used to this, it happens a lot around here - because Your Modest Artisan came across a news item on the BBC's website that was an absolute gift.

     

Remember this?

     Yep, Iranian heavy metal is a real thing.  People who play it risk a public flogging and long prison sentences, which would be awesome signs of kudos and guarantee them a permanent status as legends - probably not what the regime intends.  So - Iranian heavy metal.  Art?

     Hmmmm I wonder what her nickname is?  Especially as she's been given this article to write.

  

     The article actually quantifies how much uranium of what refinement exists in in the Persian Pustule, a statistic I'd not seen before.  "Iran declared it had produced 50 pounds of uranium enriched to 60% purity ... and 420 pounds enriched to 20%".  "For peaceful purposes only!" states the Persian Pustule.  Hmmmm no.  NO!  Creating one of the Big Bang Bombs is emphatically not the same as rainbows and bunnies, ta very much.  What is uranium?  Why none other than a HEAVY METAL! I'm sure you see what I did there.

     Of course Israel takes a very dim view of this process, as they are pretty certain that, once the Persian Pustule has nukes, they will get used against Israel.  Currently they are practicing aerial exercises, in a kind of warning to the Iranians, and various pundits are all sucking their teeth about whether the Israeli Air Force can destroy their prospective enemy's nuclear output.  They are, of course - obviously! - anticipating the use of conventional weapons, whereas Conrad, as cynical as they come, wonders if the enrichment facility at Natanz might not suddenly go up in a mysterious nuclear explosion.

     That would get rid of the staff, the centrifuges and the uranium on-site, the presence of which would also conceivably hamstring any forensic investigation using isotope analysis.  Someday I may tell you about my proposed plan on how to destroy Natanz with melons and cucumbers*.

     Motley!  Are you hungry?  Well would you like some fission chips?

Vile Victorian Viands

Following on with that food theme, back we go to the ghastly gastronomic garbage that was served up in the name of 'food' way back when Queen Victoria was young and pretty.  I have mentioned that strychnine was used to give the bitter flavour to that variety of beer when watered down.  Let us now wheel in Cocculus Indicus, which was ANOTHER POISON, in the form of ground dried berries.  Art!

Red for DANGER!

     "Why put it in beer?" I hear you ask.  For one thing, CI was very bitter, and it would mask any watering-down the brewer or publican carried out, as with strychnine.  Also, the toxins present in these plants caused a feeling of intoxication, again covering up any dilution of the beer and giving the impression that it was higher in proof than it really way.  Lends a new meaning to the phrase 'Dying for a drink', hmmm?  I bet you're not looking back on Victorian cuisine with any great fondness, are you?

More Bad Taste

The Juggernaut That Is "Tormentor" Rumbles On

Since nobody has Commented**, I am going to keep on posting these extracts, because I have about 78,000 words left to post if I feel like it, and no Comments or responses means exactly the same as being begged to continue.

Jennifer beamed with sincere approval.

‘Luma!  I’m so glad!’ she replied, using his pet name.  In fact she leapt up and gave him a hug, her hair tickling the underside of his nose.

‘Steady on now, I’m still your tutor.  Professional relationship and all that,’ he blustered, scared to put his arms around her and encounter a real live teenager.  ‘Simon will get jealous.  Speaking of the lad - ’

The exuberant teen dropped back onto the settee, making sheets of A4 paper fly off and into the air.

‘Really, you’re just like a dad.’  She looked up quickly.  ‘Sorry – I seem to be putting a foot into my mouth every time I speak.’

Louis sat carefully next to her, picking up loose leaves.  He laughed to himself, then ruffled her hair.  A part-time dad, maybe, called in by Angela to babysit at short notice, or when he and Jackie had succumbed to Natasha’s begging about going to Alton Towers, and could they take a friend of her, please?

‘Ahh.  In my eyes you can do little wrong, Miss Hargreaves.  Don’t worry, I’m not the bag of nerves I used to be and I won’t collapse like a house of cards  if you happen to say the wrong thing.’

As usual, he rang Angela at seven, when Jennifer left the house, then watched her walk up the street to the main road and disappear. 

Half an hour later the phone rang, entirely unexpectedly.  Who would want to call him at this hour, to call him at all?

‘Louis?  Is Jen there with you?’ asked the frantic voice of Angela Hargreaves.

‘No,’ he replied at once, before the implications of that simple question sunk in.  ‘Isn’t she home?  She left here half an hour ago.’

     So it begins.  Hopefully we've set the scene sufficiently for you to care about both Luma and Jen.  Be warned, there is heartbreak ahead.

Back To "The War Illustrated"

We are closing in on 27/11/2021, so you can cut me a little slack if I am posting this three days early.  Art!

     This picture references Operation Torch, the amphibious landings by the Allies in Vichy France's North African territories, whilst the Eighth Army had arrived on the Tunisian borders.  Herr Schickelgruber, as was his wont, immediately began reinforcing failure by shipping forces to North Africa.

     More staged nonsense from Len Chetwyn and his so-called 'Circus', because believe me you do not get tanks surrendering to infantry, even if said infantry have big sharp pointy things on the end of their rifles.  Staged for the camera!

     O we can't leave without this picture -

     That's what's going on in the Sinister Union, because they get all snivelly and whiny if you don't credit them with splitting the atom, solving Pi and inventing artificial petrol.  I've got more pictures which can wait.

Finally -

Finished "From The City, From The Plough" this morning on the tram into Gomorrah-in-the-Irwell, but I'm not going to rush an evaluation in thirty words when I could do better with longer.  Expect more details tomorrow.  You know you can hardly wait.

*  It's a long story.

**  To my secret sorrow