So It Begins

Your Humble Scribe Is Alone With Edna Wunderhund

Because, as tends to happen around this time of year, everyone else is beggaring off on a cruise, which are now back in vogue thanks to Covid being seen off, as compared to 2021.

     I couldn't get all the time off as leave, so will be working from home this Tuesday and Wednesday, which is great as it would have been the 10:00 - 18:10 shift, which brings with it the risk of First Bus not turning up.  However, at exactly 18:10:01 I will be back in The Mansion.  Edna may get a trot before keyboard-hammering begins, depending on the weather.  Art!

     Behold the Mongolian Death Worm, because otherwise this Intro would be far too short, and it popped into my mind at random, for which we have to thank Steve and Oscar.  "Never heard of it," I hear you reply, for which your lives are a little poorer.

     Of course - obviously! - it doesn't exist, and never did.  What did exist were credulous local Mongolians who insisted that it was real, that it was incredibly venomous, that it travelled underground.  No photographs existed of it. Nor were there any remains.

     But no worry!  Because equally credulous Westerners decided that they desperately needed to discover this horrifying creature, which had been brought to Western (and Sinister) attention by the publication of "On The Trail Of Ancient Man" by respectable scientist Roy Chapman Andrews.  O Mister Andrews, what have you stirred up!  Art?

     In the past 25 years there have been five separate expeditions into the Gobi Desert, where this apocryphal creature is alleged to lurk.  Guess what they found?  Art!

!

     No, only messing with you.  Nothing.  

     Okay, RCA did recount a description of the MDW by a Mongolian Prime Minister, who stated: "It is shaped like a sausage about two feet long, has no head nor leg and it is so poisonous that merely to touch it means instant death. It lives in the most desolate parts of the Gobi Desert.”

     Hmmmmm really?  SO where are all the slain animal carcasses?  Not only that, we have a credible contender for a real-life MDW, just a little more prosaic.  Art!

     The Tartar Sand Boa.

     Now, I know what you're thinking AND NO I DID RETURN THE D.A.R.P.A. TELEPATHY HELMET - this is where Conrad takes a bow and retires.  O noes.  Art!

"Mongolian Death Worm" 2010

     Yes, those credulous Westerners were unhappy that these things don't exist in real life, so they made a film about them.  It looks like a typical low-budget SyFy attempt that I 1) haven't seen and 2) have no intention of seeing.

     It doesn't seem to have been very successful (be grateful for small mercies) because we thankfully haven't seen "Mongolian Death Worm 2: Worm In Perm"*.

     Well, that escalated quickly from a hasty domestic information session about potential dog-walking and Human-Shaped Cushion activity.

     Motley!  Gather up the gum boots and guns, for we are off to hunt the legendary Splacknuck!

Valiant Virtual Vacheslav

As you should surely know by now, Conrad has made no secret of his active dislike for Tsar Poutine over these many years, which has saddened the tiny toxic terror toad tyrant.  Reading BOOJUM! is probably likely to get you a ten-stretch in the gulags, for O I dunno, conspiring with treasonous individuals to make Dimya weep into his borshcht.  I did have quite a few Ruffian readers, until they all vanished a few days ago, probably as the Kremlin makes it illegal to breathe and think.

     However ...  Art!

     Don't get too excited, it's probably Dimya reading these words and vacillating between rage and sorrow.  In fact you could say that his world is 

Blue!

Back we go to the BBC's photography exhibition on the theme of "Into The Blue" and Your Humble Scribe is happy to attribute the photographer's name.  Art!

Courtesy Paul Griffiths

     Paul informs us that this is a P-47 fighter, Second World 'Special' Military Operation vintage, at the Southport Air Show in 2019.  It was inevitable that somebody would post an image like this.  For your information, the 'Jug'** was a monster of an aircraft, the biggest single-seat fighter of the Second World 'Special' Military Operation, coming at over 7 tons when flying.

Make With The Torment!

We are now up to Page 74, so not long to endure if you've hated every word of this rather dark tale.

Yvonne remained silent while he shovelled down the plateful of food.  She might be a spirit, animated energy, yet for all that her disapproval came across quite as plainly as a mortal woman.  Jackie had been able to do the same, express ferocious annoyance with a set of the lips and twitch of the head.

               ‘I can tell you don’t approve.’

               Long fingers with manicured nails went rapping on the settee’s arm.

               ‘Those creatures are dangerous!  Why on earth seek them out?’

               ‘Pre-emptive attack, which is the best kind of defence.  If all I do is sit and wait, they’ll get me.  What if ten attack next time?  Or fifty?  No, I have to take the fight to them.’

               ‘Morgan and his ghouls can be anywhere in the world.’

               ‘Then I shall track them down.  Not straight away, I’m not that headstrong!  You forget that I have one or two aces in my pocket.’

               Yvonne frowned.

               ‘If you mean that Catholic priest, don’t be fooled into thinking he’ll help you simply in order to help you.  He’ll want a return.’

               Louis nodded sagely.  Yes, turn and turn about. 

               ‘Yvonne, I am not Anton Verbius.  He was probably a jolly decent sort for a Lithuanian, hard worker, prayed to God, paid his taxes.  Not much of an intellect.’

               Yvonne stood and faced him.

               ‘I don’t think I like the sound of this.  It sounds like pride, and you know what follows pride.’

               ‘Hey, look at my notebook.  It should get the point across better than I’m doing.’

               She read.

     I believe I've filleted out any swearing.  If any rude words remain, close your eyes and sing.

Finally -

Nope.  If you skipped "Tormentor" then you have to read this AND YES I WILL KNOW.

     You may recall that I was fulminating on the codeword solution JINGOISM yesteryon, and explained it derived from 'Jingo', which itself is derived from a comic song of the late nineteenth century.  My Brewer's informs that the lyrics go like this:  

"We don't want to fight but by Jingo if we do,

We've got the ships, we've got the men, and got the money too."

     "Jingo" here used as an euphemism for "Jesus" as taking his name in vain in 1877 was a big no-no.

     The peculiar and resonant fact is that this ditty was created during the Russo-Turkish war of 1877, when feelings against the Ruffians - who were Tsarist at the time - were running high in This Sceptred Isle, and Perfidious Albion's Mediterranean fleet sailed for Constantinople.  

     A curious coincidence that I have no qualms about since the Coincidence Hydra fails against armoured underwear everytime.  Mind you, that crack about "money, too" has probably set Dimya off again.  Chin chin!

Hey, Dimya!  We can afford TWO of these.  Where's yours?"

*  A Ruffian city in Siberia

**  Nobody can explain why it was nicknamed thus.