NO!
oi0ikop09ikoii - sorry, butter on the keyboard - in the words of your English teacher, GO BACK AND READ WHAT IT SAYS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT SAYS. We shall ooooooooooooooooooo - sorry, still some butter on the keyboard - pause for a moment here to ensure the keyboard is butter-free and for my Frothing Nitric Ire to ebb a little. In the meantime, here's - Art!
- a Rolls-Royce Merlin engine, because I'll bet you never gave a second thought to how important aero-engines were in the Second World 'Special' Military Operation and the Mustang o
ANYWAY this Intro is, of course - obviously! - nothing to do with the film "The Name Of The Rose", which Conrad has seen Lo! these many times, and has even read the novel it is based on - which has a less Hollywood ending that the film. Art!
In fact we referred to one of the principal antagonists in this film just the other week <name escapes Conrad's feeble memory> Feodor Chaliapin! (thank you Google), whom, amongst most of the cast, manages to look spectacularly ugly. There's probably a casting agency called Ugly Bugs who have a roster of - er - 'attraction-challenged' actors.
ANYWAY this Intro is in fact about roses, just not the ones you were expecting. You see, there is a Latin <swills mouth out> saying 'Sub Rosa', which means 'Under the rose'. Art!
Back in the day - by which I mean several thousand years ago - the rose became associated with secrecy, when Cupid tried to keep Venus' - YES VENUS AGAIN! - secrets from the prying eyes of the other Olympians, because Olympians enjoyed messing up their fellow gods only slightly less than they enjoyed messing up Hom. Sap. Thus if you happened to be holding a meeting and wanted members to get the message that loose lips sink ships, you bedecked your furniture with - roses. Art!
Because Conrad is too lazy to be subtle, I'd have gone with the Tongue Orchid, as a stern reminder that yours might go missing if you flap it about excessively. Art!
Let's Have More Sony Photos
Conrad is rather cross about the lack of attribution with these pictures since they were taken by individuals who might like the credit they are due. Okay, enough waffling, bring on the photos -
Blimey, there's a face only it's mother could love. It looks like a monster straight out of the imagination of that world-famous documentary maker John Carpenter, doesn't it? In reality <boos at boring reality> it is a Crowned Tree Frog, a denizen of Guapiles in Costa Rica. Doubtless it oozes incredibly toxic sweat that will kill a full-grown elephant with a single lick*.
Meanwhile, Back In Tunisia ...
Which those pikers the Romans knew as Africa Vetus, although this is some thousand years plus since their Vetan hey-day. Nineteen Forty-Three, to be precise, as we upload more images from "The War Illustrated". Don't forget, there was always a pause between any real-world event and it being reported, to ensure the Axis couldn't squeeze any information from it. Art!
These images seem to be concentrating on the Brylcreem Boys, filling in a bit of background. Here you see their Servicing Commandoes, who appear to be armed engineers and pioneers, able to do sentry stag, make minor airframe repairs and prepare runways for aircraft. Since the text is a trifle blurred, allow me to point out that's a Bisley light bomber, a type Your Humble Scribe is unfamiliar with. Aha. Apparently it was a Blenheim variant. Now we are all the wiser.
Here we have the Tunisian landscape and native villages and towns, all seized the previous month of February - don't forget, strategic delay in publishing. They are, in order from the top, Medenine, Gabes and Gafsa. I wonder what they look like today? Art!
Medenine Gabes Gafsa
Obviously there has been a bit of development over the past eighty-odd years. You may have noticed**.
That's enough TWI for one afternoon. Let us move on.
Back! Back! It's A "Tormentor" Attack!
Leaving it at that rather ambiguous statement, let us return to my long-form fiction, where Luma, already suspecting Something Is Up, is made even more suspicious by the aberrant behaviour of his mentoring spirit, The Prof.
‘Well, interesting that you ask that, Prof. I can call you “Prof”, can’t I? Here, take a seat.’ He walloped the settee cushion next to him
for emphasis.
‘I shall remain standing.’
‘Okay, your decision. Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘No! Please, I need to know what you have arranged
in terms of defences.’
‘Right. D’you mind if I have a cup of tea?’
The Prof seemed to quiver with
righteous wrath and avoided answering.
Louis got up from the settee, stretched mightily, killed the sound on
his television, sat back down again heavily and got back up.
‘You don’t want a cuppa? Okay, okay, follow me.’ He plodded into the kitchen, filled the
kettle and leaned against the worktop.
‘Not in a hurry, are you? This used to take ages to boil. Hey, you might be able to answer one of my
questions.’
‘Yes?’
‘As spirits, you don’t need
artefacts, do you? So that’s why you
never compiled a book about the spirit community. Not needed.
And it would be difficult to do until or unless you come across someone
like me.’
He pointed to the windowsill.
‘Some defence in place right
there.’
The Professor slid past,
examining the book that lay on the windowledge, one of seven Louis had gotten
from the supermarket. Louis noticed that
put the Prof between himself and the book, which may have been coincidence.
‘There’s one in each room,’
continued Louis. ‘And in the hallway.’
‘Splendid,’ said the Professor,
in a slightly strained voice. He lost
interest in that particular bible.
Clearly Conrad is signposting here, except I can't remember what I'm signposting. Old age and too many gins, doncha know, in addition to it being ages since I re-read it and far longer since I crafted the deathless prose itself. You never know, exciting things might be just around the corner!
The Rage Is Beginning To Subside
Yes, once again First Bus take aim, shoot themselves in both feet and then proceed to cram both injured articles into their ravening gullet. Art!
What's wrong with this picture?
Spot the bus. That's what I did for an hour this evening, after getting the tram to King Street to catch the 409. The 18:53 didn't turn up, so I went and got food from Oodles. The 19:23 didn't turn up, either, so I got a lift home in what had become increasingly chilly weather. To add insult to a paper cut with salt rubbed into it, no less than three 409s went past in the opposite direction. Bah!
Finally -
Another reference to the 'Special' Military Operation in Ukraine, which you may skip if you feel all martialled-out ALTHOUGH THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES IF YOU DO.
Okay, it's a little difficult for Conrad to accustom himself to calling places by their Ukrainian version, after years of the Sinisters forcing people to use their version. So, Odesa is giving the Ruffians a snub by indulging in normal behaviour, rather than cowering in the catacombs. This is not to say they have neglected their defences, because beachfronts are awash with mines, barbed wire, sandbags and beady-eyed Ukes itching for a chance to perforate Ruffian hide. Art!
Take note of that machine gun. It's a bipod version of the formidable 'Dushka' that normally sits on a whacking big tripod mount, with a circular muzzle-brake. Art!
With puny human for scale
What the Ukes have done is turn the beast above into a weapon that can be used prone, and that big flat muzzle brake keeps it from jumping about when fired. I know this because Ian from 'Forgotten Weapons', a man who has forgotten more about weapons than the rest of us know together, had film of same up on his Youtube channel. Art1
Once again we acknowledge the planning savvy of that military genius Corporal Jones and his crack team of South Canadian advisers in mounting this SMO. Art!
The cast of "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia"
For those not in the know, those five people there have a collective IQ of 73.
* I know, I know, there are no native elephants in South America. Sue me.
** The French not being in charge is one such.
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