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Monday 11 July 2022

Dishy Rishi

I Know, I Know

Conrad is always blathering on about how BOOJUM! is a splendid refuge from Politics and/or Religion, even Current Affairs, although that's stretching the truth to breaking point and it's elastic limit.  SO! let me introduce you to Benjamin Disraeli.  Art!


     Hmmmmm yes well I may delay Tazer-time with Art, thanks to "Disraeli Gears" which you can observe above.  This in honour of Ben Dizzy Disraeli, our only Jewish Prime Minister (so far). In This Sceptred Isle, you see, we tend to upvote politicians very much on their appearance rather than their racial background or gender, equally as much as their performance.  This is why the Petrels Of Muscovy* should keep their flapping pie-holes shut because this is how political freedom works; if we in the West do not like a politician we get rid of them.  If Muscovites do not like the Tiny Toxic Terror Toad then they can either put up with him or storm the Kremlin.  Art!

Rishi Sunak

     As you may have noticed, Rishi is not white <GASP!>.  He might very well be Anglo-Saxon - of recent heritage - but Conrad is willing to bet he's not Protestant, not in any meaningful way.  

     TERRIFIC!  

     This will mean that, should he succeed in becoming Prime Minister, we will see ranks of WASPs lining up to kiss his ring WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY MINDS! whilst squinting in terror that this is reality and not an episode of "Hammer Horror".  What the heck, it's already happened across the Small Pond in Ireland, see them for future references.  It will seem odd indeed to have one's political leader not resemble an unmade bed.   "Ah hello President - er - ah - er - that is to say - un-quilt".


Talking Of Which

Actually not talking remotely of which, it was just a convenient way to introduce "The War Illustrated" and Edition 158.  Art!


     Elsewhere across the globe this would be seen as a dictatorial ruler getting rid of a potential challenger - this is surely how Stalin viewed it - except here we are dealing with Perfidious Albion,  whom elevated said marshal to the ethereal ranks,  where he could be either diverted or discombobulated.  Art!


     Here you have a bit more of King George V visiting the ranks in North Africa, only reported long after he'd gone, because once again one does not tip the opposition off as to what delicate shizzle you've been up to.  Needless to say, this is when communities respected the King**, and the Axis knew same, hence the keeping secret bit.


And Thus We Have To Insert -

"The Sea Of Sand" because tardiness.  And another extra six words so that we stagger past the 1,200 word barrier.  Bring on the dancing sandstorms!

‘Ah, no, perhaps he wouldn’t.  Worrying about his family back home.  The Blitz, you know,’ said the officer, looking for matches.  ‘Plus the disappearances.  Funny.  Similar thing happened last year to the labourers.’

Once again the Doctor felt the hair-twitching of a hunch being proven correct. 

‘Is there any chance of being able to get out to your old dig site, Lieutenant?’ he asked, casually.  Not casually enough to fool Sarah, who recognised the signs of her mentor being on the prowl for information.

‘Out to Makan Al-Jinni?  Not a great deal,’ replied Llewellyn, untying the tent flaps and carefully lifing them to look outside.  A gust of dry air and sand blew into the tent around their knees, flushing out the sweaty, humid interior.

‘We need to get out to that site, Sarah,’ whispered the Doctor.  Sarah’s reply came in the form of a furrowed brow as Lieutenant Llewellyn strode outside and began tying the tent flaps open.

‘ “Makan Al-Jinni”,’ continued the Doctor almost inaudibly.  ‘It means “The Place of Demons”.’

5: Adrift in the Sand

           Once Lieutenant Llewellyn departed the stuffy, smelly tent, his involuntary guests followed.  Sarah drew in a great lungful of dry air, grateful to escape the oppressive fug of the tent.

          ‘Sorry,’ apologised the young officer.  ‘I sit in my own reek so long I don’t notice it.  Not enough water for washing, you see.  If we were on the coast like First Platoon then there’d be the Med, just the thing for a spot of sluicing yourself clean.’

          ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ reassured Sarah.  ‘I’m used to roughing-it, believe you me.’  True.  She’d been to environments so hostile and deadly that the young officer would have considered them flights of raving fantasy.

     Aha, we begin to see what might be at stake here.

     Hopefully you were at this level of comprehension already, or Your Humble Scribe might give up and run an ice-cream truck instead.


Midnight On The Firing Line

Conrad is prettttty sure this is a title from "Babylon 5" without having the chops to go look it up O Go On Then Art - 

Conrad unsure what it means, yet it sounds great

     What do you know, my skip of a mind comes up trumps once in a while.  I am putting this article in here so that we hit the 1,200 word total for the Adjusted Compositional Ton, and it seemed apt to have included a total from a sci-fi series that had politics, war, poverty and unemployment because Hom. Sap. cannot but fail to take it's better qualities to the stars!



Gitcha!

As regular viewers will recall, we here at BOOJUM! like to call up the material of Charles Marion Crawford, a South Canadian artist who worked in oils up to the end of the Thirties, who looked back over the times of less-than-lawfulness of the South Canadian wilderness. To that end - 


     To fill you in: those chaps in red are the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, whom got their man 100% out of 100%.  Here you can see a pair of them apprehending a couple of South Canadian wastrels, whilst no doubt remaining as professional and polite as only Canuckistanians can be.  Make no mistake, a Canuckistanian will kill you entirely dead when called for, just being excessively polite whilst doing so.  Go ask James Doohan about that last bit.


About That Last Bit -

Mister Doohan was Canuckistanian, not South Canadian, and, like a few ten thousands of his fellow countrymen, he volunteered to join the army and serve under Queen Elizabeth Two (although some people at the back of the class might have <coughcough>ed their terms of service).  Art!


     Read up on his story and you'll understand why he never choked it whilst wearing a red shirt***.


Finally -

Your Humble Scribe is off on a late shift next week, which means not getting home until 19:45 if lucky - we are talking about a reliance upon First Bus here, you know the people who couldn't make ice-cubes at the South Pole, and whom couldn't manage exotic dancers at the North Pole <NO you are not getting pictures of either you fearful perverts!> so we shall see what has been conjured up the night before, like this, which is going in before midnight as of 10/07/2022.





*  Invented by John Wyndham, persisted by BOOJUM!

** And you could have a drink and drug-fuelled weekend for £1.46

***  'Friendly Fire" is never very friendly

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