Whizzer And Chips

Another Nod To Steve And Oscar

Because I have NO IDEA why this topic floated to the top of my awareness, just that it did.  Steve and Oscar - my memory and subconscious respectively, and who need congratulating on having created this lord-forsaken farrago.  Which is not to be confused with 'Farrage'.

     Yes yes yes, you disgusting slobbering perverts are no doubt imagining all sorts of sleazy seedy 'explanations' of what the title means.

     IT MEANS A COMIC.  Art!

     Here we see the two characters behind the titles.  That there is Sid, with his snake, and the bafune in back of him is Shiner, because he nearly always had a black eye.

     Okay, this is where it gets a little complicated.  Although they came stapled together as a single comic, WAC adopted the conceit that they were actually two very different comics, who violently hated each other.  Because this is This Sceptred Isle and not South Canada, this meant being ferociously polite to each other's face whilst trying to smuggle in your own comic characters into the other fellow's comic, rather than storming their premises with automatic weapons being really mean to each other.  Art!

     Thus you had 'Whiz-kids' and 'Chip-ites' and really I bet Phillip K Dick would have thoroughly approved, before They got him removed from reality b

     ANYWAY the idea was that one comic would pwn the other - a concept that existed long before the word - by surreptitiously sneaking one of their characters into the other comic, and readers were encouraged to write in and gloat or moan about detecting such an infiltration.  This has led Conrad to have a life-long distrust of comic artists and he can frequently be seen scrutinising the background of his latest graphic novel with a magnifying glass.  It's worked out.  Art!

     Cam Kennedy, one of the best comic artists This Sceptred Isle ever produced, is my go-to whenever the topic of 'Future War' came up, because he was simply awesome at depicting 'Rogue Trooper' in 2000AD.  And - Hey Pesto! - here he is in 1984, depicting the Little Lost Alien 'Skizz' (of the Tau-Ceti Imperium) in the background of a Rogue Trooper story.

     No, I don't have a picture.  I'd have to climb up a ladder, unload several cubic yards of comics and search through them for hours to get a picture.  JUST TRUST ME ON THIS okay hmmmm?

     This peculiar conceit for WAC had legs, because the comic lasted until 1990, or over 20 years, which is pretty good going for any comic that's not "The Dandy" or "Beano".

"Skizz"
Set in Birmingham.

I Did Warn You

Look, if you can't keep up with BOOJUM!s social calendar, it's time to retire to a nunnery and raise bees.  As in the title, I did warn you.  Art!

     These, ladies and germs, are 'Banana Blossoms', which have gone into the latest Conrad stew being prepared for the week ahead.  Your Humble Scribe was a tad surprised to see that they have a distinct scarlet cast to them, because that Paul Metcalfe* has pretty much gotten a lock on everything 'Scarlet'.  We shall see how they pan out in - hmmmm - the pan.

Is There A The Doctor In The House?

Don't look at me whilst you're deciding about articles, no that is not a typo and yes we are back to "The Sea Of Sand" where the Fourth Doctor and SJS are at peril in the desert warfare of early 1941.

‘Geothermal – like hot springs?’ commented Roger, getting drawn in despite himself.

          ‘A little.  It’s a source of energy that never runs out – or at least not while Planet Earth maintains a molten core.  Geo-thermal power allows the complex to maintain itself indefinitely, staying in perfect condition.  And the pylons, the whole matter-transmission system, requires vast energies to operate.  It can’t be constantly in commission, so the geo-thermal power is accumulated.  Once it reaches peak storage capacity, any soul unlucky to move between the pylons will be transmitted.’

          Roger looked at the Doctor in alarm.  The mysterious and inexplicable vanishings, the ever-warm buildings, the scale of the site – this grinning lunatic had managed to explain it all away.  What was that line from Conan Doyle?  “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, remains the truth.”

          A dusty soldier, clutching his rifle frantically, rushed up to the lieutenant.

          ‘Sir!  Sentry says he’s spotted three unidentified vehicles heading this way, from the south-west.  Says there’s something b****  weird about them, sir, begging your pardon.’

          ‘Of course,’ said the Doctor slowly.  ‘I could be mistaken.’

     Well I suppose we shall see shortly, shan't we?

Ah, I Fondly Remember

When 'Babylon 5' was a New Thing and we all Ooohed and Aaaahed at the computer graphics, except that Conrad was more interested in how the series took contemporary problems and exported then to outer space.  "The Expanse" is a spiritual successor - we may have gone to the stars but we drag our human concerns along with us - and despite being 200 years into the future no we do not outpace racism, poverty or jingoism.  

     I obviously had big concerns to add in here, except I've forgotten whatever they were.  Damn those Banana Blossoms!

'All Alone In The Dark'

That was one of the opening lines about 'Babylon 5' in that you understood  this speck of humanity was operating solo, in outer space, and that if there was a problem then they had to deal with it themselves, because help from Earth would take months to arrive.

     Then we have the BBC's themed photography exhibition.  Art!

Courtesy Carl Gibbons

     Conrad thinks that this is a party, with the kitchen window elevated to full movement because otherwise none of the drug fumes make their way outside.  Prove me wrong, show endless shots of innocent couples smoking cigars - or whatever**.  If anyone needs to be kept in the dark it's the Ruffian authorities***.

We Need A Short Item Here 

Your Humble Scribe cannot think what to add.  Come on, Muses, we only need a few dozen words! 

     Ah.  Yes.  One of the most terrifying moments in cinematic history.  Art!

     Talos, one of the immense AND TOTALLY STATIC bronze entities encountered by the Argonauts.  Okayyyy, TOTALLY STATIC is the point here.  Art!

Check against above

     If this is not pant-wettingly terrifying then you are a robot.  Conrad can well recall this moment 50 years ago and will probably have to narcotise himself with a bottle or three of gin tonight <sinister mutterings about the audience>

Finally -

Heck y'know this stew's not bad!  The banana blossoms have held up after a couple of hours cooking, which is good to know - artichokes and palm hearts are more fragile in prolonged cooking than GET OUT OF THERE EDNA! Dog Buns, who knows what her insides would resemble after a dose of Conrad Stew?!  Yeah yeah yeah, slink out of here as if The Wicked Humans were on your ass with a torch of grass.  It is a bit peppery but nothing Your Humble Scribe cannot deal with.  The pooch is another matter entirely.

     That's banana blossoms.  Not Edna.  Edna would move around more.

*  Do I have to spell it out? Paul Metcalfe = Captain Scarlet.  Sheesh.  Some people.

** Conrad not entirely sure how one smokes a cigar, just that they seem to have lots of 'output' and 99.9999% of Ruffians cannot afford illegal chemicals

*** They are partially-sighted and wear sunglasses indoors, so we're probably pretty safe

Acting Like A TARDIS

Going Backward In Time

I've got to bash this one out quickly, still got laundry to do and a stew to brew, which will include those freaky Banana Blossoms and yes, you'll get to see photographic evidence of same.

     Of course we need the usual click-baity enticement that will lure the willing masses into visiting.  Art!

     You know, madame, if my shipmate were lying unconscious or dead at my feet, I'd not leave MY WEAPON SLUNG OVER MY BACK.  What, you think presenting cleavage in a push-up bra is going to keep you from harm? Really, some people ...

     Also, that spaceship looks badly-designed.  Who built it, Salvador Dali?

     ANYWAY let's set up the links

2021

BOOJUM!: Not THAT Kind Of Corona! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2020

BOOJUM!: I Am Leaving, On A Jet Plane (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2019

BOOJUM!: The Perils Of Postage (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2018

BOOJUM!: Tons Of Sex (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2017

BOOJUM!: Built-In Delay (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2016

BOOJUM!: I Miss The MCC - Again! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2015

BOOJUM!: BOOJUM! - Cheating Our Way To Victory! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2014

BOOJUM!: A Bold Experiment (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2013

BOOJUM!: Much Reading, Little Writing (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

     Plus I've disabled the Pageviews function so I shouldn't count my own visits. 

Strange South Canadian Habits

Nope, Nothing To Do With Guns

Nor treacle - which they mis-name 'molasses' over there - nor raccoons nor totem poles either.

     No, I refer to a South Canadian custom of placing small coins on railroad tracks so that trains can drive over them and deform them in interesting ways.  Art!

     It's illegal yet so is speeding and how well has that worked?

     ANYWAY it also reminded me of a Reddit story about a woman so mentally dense that her brain must have been made of neutronium.  Picture the scene: there you are, driving your two-hundred ton locomotive hauling five thousand tons of mixed cargo, you the driver and your conductor.  You are approaching a level-crossing when you notice a car stuck on the tracks.

     Ooops.  As you may have guessed, five thousand tons of train will not halt as a car would.  Klaxon blaring, emergency braking applied, HQ notified by radio -

Very definitely after

     At this point the locomotive's wheels lose traction, as you notice the woman and her child stood between the car and your train ARE NOT MOVING.  She is holding up a piece of card as if it will protect her from five thousand tons of train, WHICH CANNOT STOP.

     At this point saner passers-by intervene and drag both idiots off the tracks.  The train hits the car and turns it to porridge, eventually stopping a couple of miles down the way.  A very shaken driver and conductor race back, only to encounter the Karen with her sign stating that trains can stop on a dime, the drivers hit cars on the tracks only because they relish destruction.

     She also announces that they've been there all day and to prevent people from stopping her, she and her son have been placing coins on the rails - see first paragraph.  By this time the police have arrived and the train driver goes ballistic as he realises why he lost traction; all those soft metal coins on the rails.

     Karen's big idea was to physically stop a train so her son could ride in the cab.

     Not only did he not get to do that, she was arrested and did prison time for trespass and child endangerment and had to pay a whacking big fine and got no insurance pay-out for her car.  Give her time and she will win a Darwin.

     O and lest ye be tempted yourselves, bear in mind that coins can also be propelled off the rails like bullets and just as the car inevitably comes off worst in encounters like this, so too will you and your soft squishy body.  Art!

Do not be that person

     There you go, everyone is now wiser than they were five minutes ago.

"In The Dark"

Seriously, I never bother to look ahead of time at these exhibitions the BBC lays on, so I'm as surprised as you are by what's visible.  Take today, for example.  Art!

Courtesy Patrick Dixon

     Pat states that he caught a frog crawling within the innards of a rusty machine in the garden.  Not sure how this is classed as 'Dark' unless he cooked and ate the frog?  Or perhaps he pressed the starter button and instantly made the picture a lot more colourful*?

Back To The Sea

"The Sea Of Sand" that is.  As you should surely recall, Sarah was passing the time with an Ocker soldier who had to hurriedly moderate his language in the presence of a lady.

‘A “trans-mat”?’ repeated Roger, his look of disbelief not fading.

          ‘A generic term for the device,’ explained the Doctor.  ‘From “Matter-transmitter”.  He felt he’d explained things rather well.

          ‘You must be stark, raving mad,’ commented Roger.  ‘And you must think I am, too, to believe that.’

          Ah.  Perhaps the explanation hadn’t been entirely successful.

          ‘Let me try again,’ and the Doctor’s tone carried something that stopped Roger from moving away in despair.  ‘The two pylons form the gateway, if you will.  Any object placed between those pylons could be sent to the receiving station, instantly.  There would be no trace left of the object – say in this case a person from your archaeological dig.  Gone entirely, and so fast you wouldn’t notice it happen.’

          Roger squinted.

          ‘Why didn’t everyone disappear, then?  We’ve all passed between those pylons, lots of times.’

          The Doctor grinned.

          ‘Because they aren’t always active!  That site is powered geothermally, you know.  I took readings out there, and beneath each structure there will be a long thermostatic spike, drawing energy from the earth.  That’s why the buildings are never cold.  It also explains the energy drain I detected.’

Close enough

     Yes yes yes we'll get to aliens soon enough, don't you worry.  Next!

Conrad: Still A Bit Seethey

Just done another Codeword with nothing unusual or exotic about the solutions, which is great for speed of completion but which generates absolutely nothing in terms of blog content.  I realises I may have overdone it a little with the Remote Nuclear Detonator.

"The War Illustrated"

Ah yes, edition 161.  The pictures here are mostly to do with the occupation of Sicily.  Art

     Without having to read the caption, I can tell you that these will be troops from "Harper's Duds" or the 51st Highland Division.  Quite what the locals thought of bagpipes is an interesting speculation. Fortunately they didn't have to deal with kilts, too.  In the lower picture one wonders where the sergeant and lieutenant are, because any bottles passed over would be immediately confiscated.

     More Jocks, identifiable by their tam-o-shanter.  And no, Conrad has no idea where the name comes from.  Further, saying 'Your beret looks weird, mate" would probably be followed by a punch and mutterings about 'Sassenachs'.  Incidentally, the vehicle you see there is the ubiquitous Bren Carrier, which carried everything to be found in a modern army in addition to the Bren.  Think of it as a Jeep-with-tracks.

Whither The Weather

Conrad is typing this whilst keeping an eye on the heavens outside, with wry acknowledgement of his getting absolutely soaked on his trip into Royton last week.  Seriously, a complete change of clothes was needed once back in The Mansion.  The clouds are breaking up, admittedly, yet not sufficient to be able to go walkies in a tee-shirt.  British Summer Weather, meaning it could be coming down in sheets within the next ten minutes.

Finally -

You may be aware that Conrad usually makes up a big batch of stew of a Sunday afternoon, so that he can re-heat and eat it for lunch and thus not waste time throwing together a meal at the last minute.  This week I'm definitely going to feature those Banana Blossoms and may take a picture of same to wow you all with.  I have seen pictures of them battered with breadcrumbs and fried as a vegan alternative to fish - I wonder if Darling Daughter has tried them yet?  Art!

Curious

*  I could go on but people are starting to wince

Consequences

There Are Always Consequences

No!  I am not talking about the concept-album by Godley and Creme, which I believe has a narration by Paul Gambacini (who used to dep for John Peel occasionally when Sir John was either on holiday or dealing with a local flood) and who claimed not to have been paid anything for it. Art!

     I remember hearing it back in the day.  In fact I think the album was a vehicle for demonstrating the Gizmotron, which Godley and Creme had invented between them.  Let me just awaken Art with this electric toasting-fork -

     Don't ask me for a technical breakdown of what it did.  I think it did <imagine complicated musical term here> to guitar strings, and because it's construction was so cheap and nasty there aren't many left.  Perhaps the Apparat Organ Quartet would be interested?

     ANYWAY you don't need to worry about Conrad putting up a weird screed from a Romanian gypsy folk tale today, I've decided to have a bit of a rest.

     No, today I wanted to touch on Current Affairs NO THIS IS NOT ABOUT UKRAINE SIT BACK DOWN! and a repellent South Canadian known as Alex Jones.  Art!  O stop whining a put Sudocrem on it.

Shouty man is shouty

     This bottomhole peddles tat to those who listen to his radio show, which is where he used to make his money, until Youtube kicked him off the platform for being a horrible human being.  He will broadcast any twaddle if he thinks he can make $$$ from it, even if it completely contradicts what he said the day before.  

     Then we come to Sandy Hook and the school massacre there.  You may want to sit down for this bit.  AJ broadcast that the whole ghastly thing - which I am NOT going into here - was a hoax rigged up by Them in order to achieve gun control.  He claimed the parents were actors and their dead children were fakes, and again because the people who listen to him are light on intellect, common sense and logic, they all bought into the lies.  The parents were a lot more patient than Conrad would have been; the phrase 'beaten senseless with a baseball bat wreathed in barbed-wire" springs to mind.  They endured years of harassment and acrimony -

     Then they took legal action versus the Human Bottomhole himself.

     Suddenly AJ stops pandering lies and 

     TOO LATE!  He has just been found guilty of defamation.  Art!

"A Scanner Darkly" where he gets Tazered and hauled off.

     Prior to this he'd been trying to hide his assets and is now declaring himself bankrupt, which a rookie attorney fresh out of law school should be able to disprove.   He is looking at fines not merely in the millions but tens of millions - $150 million has been mentioned - which will very likely break him financially.  And on that day Your Humble Scribe will be raising a glass of gin in salute.

     It might even give pause to his fellow bottomhole conspiranoid loonwaffles*.

     <currently grooving to "Ready To Start" by Arcade Fire, what a track!>

Another Short One

Conrad positively delights in re-using old photographs because it makes him feel clever and getting on over on the audience.  Art!

     It had a nice light citrus taste to it.  And now we're all better informed.

     Yes, that's it.  I did warn you about 'short'.

Back To 1943

And the next edition of "The War Illustrated".  I hope you don't mind these pictorial extracts, because I've got two years worth of magazines to get through.  If you don't like them just grit your teeth and be brave.  Art!

     These are Italian POWs, who seem mostly delighted with being POW, as it means they don't have to risk life and limb in the service of Il Duce.  Make no mistake, the Italians could fight if they felt like it, it's just that very few bought into the idea of Death For Duce.  Next!

Ignore thumb to port

     This shows the Straits of Messina, where the Allied navies and air forces managed to not intercept or intercede with the Teuton withdrawal from Sicily, which the magazine - unsurprisingly - does not mention.

"In The Dark"

And another picture from the BBC's themed assembly of same.  As usual Conrad has no idea what's up on display, so let us examine together.  Art!

Courtesy Louise Dixon

     Hmmmmmmm.  Yes, I see what you did there.  And in a few minutes the dark will be in you, nicht wahr?

In Quite The Opposite Direction

Yes, we are back to another extract from "The Sea Of Sand" and this ought to satisfy those of you who were complaining that Conrad hadn't got enough aliens present.

‘Line up, line up, you bludgers,’ bawled one of the J force non-coms at the prisoners, in a fierce Australian accent.  Sarah went down the line, issuing a mess tin and cup to each prisoner, giving them a nod and smile.  Some smiled back.  Then she stood at the head of the line, ladling out a serving of stew, a slice of bread and pouring a cup of water for each man.

          Captain Dobie had been quite happy to let her help J Force, since it meant one less of his men involved with the new arrivals.  Sarah could read the disdain on his face like a newspaper headline.

          ‘Grazie,’ muttered the battered Italian soldier in front of her, taking his stew and dropping his bread into it.

          ‘Mille grazie, signora,’ said the next one, bowing a little.  None of them looked dangerous, or hostile, or anything except fed-up.  When they had all been fed the fierce-sounding Australian, who sported a sinister scar on his left cheek, belied his appearance by passing round cigarettes amongst the prisoners.

          ‘Keeps them happy,’ he said to Sarah, leaning against one of the vehicles, tipping his helmet forward to keep the sun out of his eyes.

          Her journalistic instinct kicked in and Sarah took the opportunity to offer stew and bread to the soldier.

          ‘Boffo!  Ta, miss.’  Silence fell for several seconds whilst the man methodically devoured the food.

          ‘So, what is this “J Force” you’re part of?’ she prompted, when he was lighting another cigarette.

          ‘Bright idea Captain Jolyon had, miss, him being in the REME.  Between him and Sergeant McSween they got hold of a ton of sha – er, disabled MT.  “Motor Transport” - trucks, to you, miss.  Then they scrounged all the kit they could muster and Captain Jolyon took the whole lot to General Wavell.  Got approval for a light raiding force, which is what we are.  Swan about behind Eyetie lines and cause them trouble, that’s us.’

          ‘What about the Germans?’ asked Sarah, wondering where they had gotten to.  Her uncles had been pretty insistent about “Jerries”.

          The Australian shrugged.

          ‘They’re only just ashore in Tripoli, miss.  We’ll give ‘em one up the – er, we’ll sort ‘em out as well, if they get this far.’

     Enemy aliens?  Come back tomorrow for real aliens from outer space!

Finally -

Hmmmmm the consequence of accepting all those compilation CDs off Andrew years ago is that every so often a track that's definitely sub-par crops up on the playlist, and I've no idea before it plays whether it's any good or not.  Let me cut this one short by six minutes and move on to - Nirvana!

     (The band not the state of being)

*  A big ask.  Not getting my hopes up.

Twenty Past One!

And I Haven't Begun

First of all, let's have a shout out to The Naughty Boys - you know who you are - and their flattering comments about BOOJUM! at work.  It's a calculated risk, posting a link to your blog on Team Chat, but bear in mind that I'm getting made redundant in three weeks and the Disciplinary To Dismissal process takes four weeks and you get an idea of where I'm coming from.  Art!

     HOWEVER whilst working in the above building Your Humble Scribe knew of two fellow staff members who were dismissed from the Coop for posting libellous or slanderous comments on social media.  Yes, gentle reader, those large employers have staff whose job it is to comb social media for disparaging remarks.  So think carefully before denigrating Sue, Grabbit & Runne your legal employer.

     Having thoroughly depressed you with Reality, let us now go for a jaunt in the fields of romantic nonsense, namely that Romanian gypsy folk tale "The Vampire".

At night the vampire came again and asked her, 'Tell me, Nita, what you saw.'

'I didn't see anything.'

'Tell me, or I will kill the lord whom you have wedded.'

Then Nita arose and said, 'It shall not happen that you kill my lord. God send you burst.' 1

The vampire heard what Nita said, and burst. Ay, he died, and burst for very rage. In the morning Nita arose and saw the floor swimming two hand's-breadth deep in blood. Then Nita bade her father-in-law take out the vampire's heart with all speed. Her father-in-law, the king, hearkened, and opened him and took out his heart, and gave it into Nita's hand. And she went to the grave of her boy and dug the boy up, applied the heart, and the boy arose. And Nita went to her father and to her mother, and anointed them with the blood, and they arose. Then, looking on them, Nita told all the troubles she had borne, and what she had suffered at the hands of the vampire.

     Blimey, that Mister Sparky is one persistent and self-obsessed bumbletuck, isn't he?  He's killed four people so far, including Nita The Narrator - go back and read the previous, it's too long to explain here - and is still asking the same question.  And then - "God send you burst".  Wait, what!  It was that simple?  Say that and he explodes?  Nita is obviously made of stern stuff as she simply goes to bed.  Only seven and a half hours* later does she bother about the floor being EIGHT INCHES DEEP IN BLOOD.  If we assume that her bedroom is nine square yards, and that a pint of blood will cover a square foot to a depth of one inch, Sparky just blew out 72 pints of blood.  No wonder he burst!

     And they all lived happily ever after.  Or so one presumes.  Conrad rather anticipates the revived family having permanent PTSD thanks to being killed and then brought back to life, and - hmmmmm wonder what they thirst for?

     Don't forget, if it tries to crawl away from a hot needle BURN IT ALL.

Another Short Item

Because not everything need be "Reclaiming History" at 1,515 pages.  Art!

     As seen from the 83 bus en route into Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell.  A tad obscure, so allow me to enlarge a little.  Art!

     Your Tuesday morning may not have been a small slice of wonderful, but spare a thought for this chap.  Here he is, at 08:15, with his head stuck down a damp, dirty, smelly manhole in order to troubleshoot Mixed Wiring.  He doesn't have a choice, the MI5 building behind him that's serviced by said MW needs their internet back pronto!

"In The Dark"

No, we are not talking about the James Webb Space Telescope.  Although now you've mentioned it I have to add in a photograph.  Art!

The super scope

     No, this is about the BBC's themed photography exhibition, whose photo today will be as much a surprise to me as it is to you.  Art!

I'm not making this up, honest

     Courtesy Daniel Castelli.  He informs us that this is in Portland, Connecticut, and yes, that's a replica TARDIS.  Rather than travelling in space and time, it's one of the world's smallest libraries.  Conrad salutes the good citizens of Portland CT, because if this was in Manchester it would have been wrecked on the first night in situ and then been chucked in the Irwell the next.

Igniting Friction With Fan-Fiction

Yus, back to "The Sea Of Sand" because 1) nobody's objected to it yet and 2) it ups the word count considerably.  As you should so surely recall, Mersah Martuba was playing reluctant host to a bunch of desert privateers.

‘He’s busy,’ growled the sergeant.  ‘Go see Lieutenant Llewellyn.’

          Which the Doctor did.  The young officer with the perpetually awry hair was overseeing delivery of petrol tins to the J Force vehicles, dozens of petrol tins, and several tins of engine oil.  Another young officer, wearing a keffiyeh, a uniform blouse and worn cord trousers, looked on in approval.

          ‘Can I have a word?’ asked the Doctor, edging up to Roger. 

          ‘How about several?  “Taking Army property without permission” for a start,’ replied Roger shortly, ticking off boxes on his noteboard.  He called over the kheffiyeh-wearing officer.  ‘You need to sign for the boxes of ammo.  Two hundred rounds of Vickers fifty-calibre armour-piercing; one thousand rounds of three-oh-three.’

          ‘It’s about the disappearances,’ added the Doctor.  The officer stopped to stare back at him, then returned to his work.

          ‘Any chance of some Boyes rounds?’ asked the other officer.  ‘Captain Jolyon goes through them like nobody’s business.’

          ‘I’ll see,’ replied Roger, then walked away after taking the Doctor’s elbow in what he hoped was a painfully hard grip and dragging him along.  ‘What are you blathering on about, you b***** looney!  You steal a truck and go haring off – why should I believe you?’

          ‘I know what’s been causing the disappearances,’ stated the Doctor simply, his elbow somehow stealing free, and gaining Roger’s unwavering attention.

LRDG Chevrolet, as used by J Force

Conrad Is ANGRY!

Yes yes yes, it's my default emotional state.  I mean even ANGRIER than usual, thanks to those Codeword compiling bafunes.  I mean, I go easy and don't disintegrate any for a couple of weeks and how do they repay my merciful tolerance?  With the following!

"CASTRATI": A word that will make every male reader wince with sympathetic pain.  For your information, castrati were male singers deprived of their gonads before puberty, in order to maintain a particular singing voice.  The whole process was legally forbidden from the mid-nineteenth century and there hasn't been one alive for a century so of course - obviously! - the Codeword compilers decided it was a much-used contemporary word.  Just you wait.  When I take over <sinister muttering continues>.

Dead relevant

"LANGUID": A poetical way of saying 'bone-idle'.  Only ever used by pseuds or Thomas Pynchon.

"QUANGO":  YOU WHAT!  O, so now acronyms are proper words, are they?  This, gentle reader, stands for "Quasi-Autonomous National GOvernment Agency" and is typically the sort of sinecure disgraced ex-politicians are appointed to, in order to keep them in lobster and champagne and prevent the Ruffians from poaching them.  Art!

Tiny tiny hands

     The South Canadians appear to lack these, which is just one troubling consequence of throwing away their loyalty to The Crown.  The fools!**

Finally -

We need to get this blog sorted and put to bed, I've not yet taken Edna for her walkies and the weather looks changeable - it may clear up and be sunny later or it may turn into a typhoon, the odds are even as always in This Sceptred Isle.  I use the walk as Thinking Time, pondering dark secrets, resolving world troubles and plotting what to say on BOOJUM! that won't offend people too much, except for the Tin Of Puh, he can be as offended as he likes and we won't care one bit.  I suppose I could always stretch to coming up with more nicknames for the Bloaty Gas Tout.  Putinpot Dictator?  Aha!  How about an acronym of PUTIN?  Yesssss I think that's the way to go.  Mind you, it still has to be SFW.  We do have standards here at BOOJUM! just not many of them.  Art!

"Why does Conrad hate me so?"

* They slept shorter then.

**  But at least they're not meddling fools.  Ape brains and the secrets of the Krell & all that

Interview With A Vampire

 NO!  That Is Not A Typo

<finger twitches dangerously near the Remote Nuclear Detonator> You are, of course, mistaking what Conrad writes for what you thought you read.  Remember your exam paper and being warned to answer THE QUESTION not what you THOUGHT the question was.  Art!

Haardest-working bloke in showbiz

     Here an aside.  Hey, I did wait for one paragraph.  Thomas Mapother Cruise III gets work in Hollywood because he has a terrific work ethic and never commits less than 110% to a film.

     ANYWAY let us return to our bonkers Romanian gypsy folk tale, which, you ought to remember, is titled "The Vampire" which kind of spoils the surprise, because you know when young Sparky showed up sporting cock's feet, there was going to be a distinct aura of the living dead around him.  Except that we've moved on to Nita, you remember, who was buried under an apple tree.

And he came home and showed it to his father and mother. Then he took and put it in a vase at his bed-head where he slept. Then the flower arose from the vase and turned a somersault, 2 and became

p. 17

a full-grown maiden. And she took the lad and kissed him, and bit him and pulled him about, and slept with him in her arms, and put her hand under his head. And he knew it not. When the dawn came she became a flower again.

In the morning the lad rose up sick, and complained to his father and mother, 'Mammy, my shoulders hurt me, and my head hurts me.'

His mother went and brought a wise woman and tended him. He asked for something to eat and drink. And he waited a bit, and then went to his business that he had to do. And he went home again at night. And he ate and drank and lay down on his couch, and sleep seized him. Then the flower arose and again became a full-grown maiden. And she took him again in her arms, and slept with him, and sat with him in her arms. And he slept. And she went back to the vase. And he arose, and his bones hurt him, and he told his mother and his father. Then his father said to his wife, 'It began with the coming of the flower. Something must be the matter, for the boy is quite ill. Let us watch to-night, and post ourselves on one side, and see who comes to our son.'

Night came, and the prince laid himself in his bed to sleep. Then the maiden arose from the vase, and became there was never anything more fair--as burns the flame of a candle. And his mother and his father, the king, saw the maiden, and laid hands on her. Then the prince arose out of his sleep, and saw the maiden that she was fair. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her, and lay down in his bed, slept till day.

And they made a marriage and ate and drank. The folk marvelled, for a being so fair as that maiden was not to be found in all the realm. And he dwelt with her half a year, and she bore a golden boy, two apples in his hand. 1 And it pleased the prince well.

Then her old sweetheart heard it, the vampire who had made love to her, and had killed her. He arose and came to her and asked her, 'Nita, tell me, what did you see me doing?'

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'I didn't see anything.'

'Tell me truly, or I will kill your child, your little boy, as I killed your father and mother. Tell me truly.'

'I have nothing to tell you.'

And he killed her boy. And she arose and carried him to the church and buried him.

     Conrad has heard of werewolves, and wererats, and even werewhales, but has not yet encountered a wereflower.  Things seem to be quite rosy after the king and queen discover that Nita is the night-fairy being hairy-scary.  Of course young Sparky cannot have failed to hear about the prince marrying Nita, and because he is both disgustingly jealous and nosy, he has to go sticking his beak in.  Nita seems to be lacking in both imagination and maternal feelings, because it would have been ridiculously easy to state anything along the lines of "Well I saw you cut up a turtle and a heifer and boil them in a brass cauldron to make stew, except you left out the garlic for some reason."

"Jack foolishly entered the pod into his local Market Produce competition!

      Closest thing to a wereflower I could find at short notice.

    Another thing Conrad finds a tad mystifying is a vampire's reluctance to face garlic because the vegetable is used in tons of Eastern European cuisine.

Another Short One

You need an item of some brevity after the monster item above.  Art?

     Conrad is entirely unsure what the Dog Buns these things are - who knew banana trees had flowers*? - but has seen the tin gracing the shelves at Morrisons a couple of times and was curious.  Next batch of stew I make you better believe it's going to get flowered.  Art!

And Now Let's See

Back to "The Sea Of Sand" and, as you should surely recall, a load of piratical British and Commonwealth soldiers had turned up at the Mersah Martuba depot, looking for resupply.  Sarah Jane Smith, unable to help her better human and humane nature come out, goes to help.

The insults were carried out in a manner that said neither party really felt motivated enough to hate the other properly.  Sarah rolled her eyes and strode forward.

           Isolated, and splendidly so, atop a pyramid of petrol drums, the Doctor looked south-east and rubbed his chin.  Passing soldiers looked at him with curiosity.

          “The Place of Demons.”  Why call it so?  Because people considered the site haunted.  As an ultimately rational empiricist, the Doctor dismissed the supernatural as due cause for the site’s reputation.

          Disappearances.  Mysterious vanishings without trace.  Not predicable, nor regular, or there would have been nobody left at the dig.  Yet sufficiently noticable for the site to gain a reputation over five thousand years ago, and retain it. 

          Why, then, would it have the – aha – yes, those twin pylons and their relative spacing. 

They were a trans-mat system!  A trans-mat system of exceptional size.

          The Doctor stood up on the petrol-drum pyramid, feeling a moment of intellectual triumph.  A whole series of observations and facts fell abruptly into place. 

          ‘Oi!  You!  Get off them drums – what d’you think you are, a parrot on a perch?’ shouted a sergeant from below, having been told of the sun-stricken prof sitting on a stack of fuel drums.

          ‘A very good idea.  Do you know where I can find Captain Dobie?’ said the Doctor, jumping down from his meditative platform.

     Ah yes.  Conrad had to stop using the phrase "In splendid isolation" during the Killer Cough Clampdown as people inevitably took it to mean he had the Coof.

Keeping You Illuminated And In The Dark Simultaneously

You recall?  The BBC has put up a page of photographs on the theme of "In The Dark", so let us see what the next one is.  Art!

Courtesy Bartek Biela

     Nope.  According to BB this is the 'Monastery Pitch' of Lost John's Cave in the Yorkshire Dales, only accessible by a rope descent and only for experienced cavers.  Sorry nope again.  Caving is quite terrifying enough without needing to descend via ropes.

O Lord Aloft Conrad Pleads Not

There's a horrid rumour going round that 2023's Eurovision is going to be held in This Sceptred Isle.  You see, Ukraine won the recent one - well done them, that's one in the eye for the Tin of Pu - but the country is seen as unsuitable for holding the event, as the Ruffians are bound to interfere with cyberwarfare and missile attacks (if they have any left by then).

     The thing is, Slava Ukraina! and all that, but Your Humble Scribe LOATHES Eurovision.  Even worse, the city of Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell is being described as a potential venue.

Another reason to hate the Tin Of Pu

Finally -

Sad to see the passing of Bernard Cribbins, whom you may be familiar with as the character Wilf Mott in "Doctor Who" - Art!

"Muck abaht an' I'll 'ave yer.  Ex-Para, I am."

       Well, he was right there at the beginning, when they filmed "Dalek Invasion Of Earth 2050" as well, in 1966.  Art!

     RIP mate.

*  That hopefully remain as flowers.