Conrad's Brain

It's A Bit Of A Pain

That's the thing, you can't replace it or take it back under warranty.  You might well be eyeing these lines with some misapprehension, which is fair enough, just imagine if you're stuck with the brain that's creating them.

     Actually, thanks Brain, you've just sparked a line of imagination that has completely subverted what this Intro was going to be about.  It was dull stuff anyway.  Art!

     One of the all-time classics from the mind of futurologist Gerry Anderson.  And who designed all the hardware?

     This is the ultra-geeky aerospatial engineering genius behind the Thunderbirds themselves, real name unknown - when necessary he goes by the alias 'Hiram K. Hackenbacker', which, given how unlikely some South Canadian names are, is certainly possible.  His stutter is due to his mind - or brain* - working a lot faster than his tongue can.  Art!

Well apostrophised

     Here beginneth the trope of a disembodied brain, being kept alive in a tank of chemicals.  Of course - obviously! - Donovan's brain is eeeevil, because he was a ruthless South Canadian business mogul and they're always eeeevil.  Andrew Carnegie is the exception not the rule.

     If Conrad so wished, he could probably fill this entire blog with other entries about disembodied brains, except we'll keep that choice in reserve, so expect an outbreak of brains in the near future.  You can consider that a threat or a promise, however you desire.

     Then, of course, we have The Brain.  No!  Not that loveable cartoon scamp who constantly threatens to take over the world, I mean the Damon Runyon character.  Let me prod Art into sentience with this red-hot pitchfork -

     The Brain is known as such because he's so clever.  He is also the boss of a gambling racket that runs along the whole East Coast of South Canada and is a millionaire several times over, and we're talking nineteen-thirty millions here.  He has a wife and three mistresses and when he gets stabbed h -

     ANYWAY we did mention The Brain, that splendid role model from "Pinky And The Brain", whom Conrad is happy about, as he's a fictional character and thus no competition when it comes to really taking over the world.  Art!

     I don't need to explain who's who, do I?  The central premise of this series is that both these laboratory mice are sentient - hmmmmm well not really sure if that applies to Pinky, really - thanks to their genes being spliced.  Whilst Pinky is an amiable idiot, The Brain is intent on only one thing - WORLD DOMINATION!  Hey, a man's got to have a hobby.  The Brain's problem is that he can only do his plotting late at night, when the lab is empty, which must be rough on his sleep patterns.

     Who else likes brains?  Art!

     Hmmmmm no.  No, that's not what I was thinking.  Besides which, I was thinking about human brains.  Human brains at normal body temperature.  Try again.

     Yeah, that's it: zombies.  Zombies love brains, mostly because they don't have any of their own.  In reality getting into a human brain would mean getting through the human skull, and Conrad doubts zombie teeth have the cutting edge or inherent strength to cut through solid bone.

     Well, that's a completely different Intro to the one I'd planned, which was going to yark on about how my brain works.  Which we may come back to if you are BAD.  Or even if you're good.  I'm fickle like that.

Konrad's Killer Kebab Kontinues!

Yes, we are into Day Three of me gnawing my way through one of Tony's Extra-Large Kebabs as bought Monday evening.  I forgot to take a photo before attacking it, so here it is after a single night's dining.  Art!

     With puny fork for scale.  The trick is to have it seam side down, which allows you to saw off a slice to eat by hand, forking up the bits that fell out.  Your Humble Scribe cannot imagine anyone eating one of these in a single sitting, unless on a dare.

Lord Peter's Crossword

I know you're simply thirsting for another wretchedly difficult clue from Ol' Dot's esteemed artistocratic sleuth, so here it is: "This king (of whom not much is known), By Heaven's mercy was o'erthrown (5)." 

     You're not going to get this so I'll just put the answer out there immediately.

     SEHON

     I've got no idea who or what and shall have to Brewer and Google.

     Nothing.  There is a SIHON.  Art!

     That'll have to do.

     - hmmm I hear the sinister susurrus of a 2-8-2 steam locomotive stalking The Mansion, allow me to fire up the Magma Moat ...

"The Sea Of Sand"

The alien bio-vores have suffered an humiliating sabotage attack on their newly-acquired depot at Mersa Martuba, courtesy of You Know Who.

What next?  he wondered.  They had drained the life-energy from the last prisoners earlier that morning.  No other sources of energy were located nearby.  In fact the budding Warriors had been put at risk by the explosions last night.

          Time to move back to the Infiltration Complex, then.  They would leave only a few sentries on guard.

          ‘Pass the order along to store equipment and supplies and get ready to leave this position.  I have decided that the alien’s storage is too primitive and dangerous to risk staying any longer,’ he instructed the communicator technician.

          Five minutes later, the Life Signs Scanner began to ping, registering a big location of biomorphic energy, moving slowly from west to east about ten minutes travel from the depot.

          ‘Excellent!’ enthused Icono.  ‘Finish packing and plot an intercept.’  His proboscis twitched in anticipation.  More fodder!

 

Dawn allowed the humans camped out to the west of the depot to see each other easily, and to read the endless flimsies on Captain Dobie’s clipboard.  A sombre breakfast was eaten in silence, whilst the Doctor perused the notes.

          ‘Was it worth it, then?’ asked Dominione.  The Doctor carried on reading before Sarah coughed and drew his attention to the question.

          ‘Oh – sorry.  Was it worth it?  Yes, I think so.’  He riffled back across various notes.  ‘Here – see this.’

 

          “CAPTURED ITALIAN STOCK

          FROM: TWENTIETH CORPS HQ

          INITIAL LOCATION:  APPROX. 20 MILES SSE OF POINT 206

          NOW HELD:  FSD MERSA MARTUBA

          DESCRIPTION:  WOODEN CRATED SUPPLIES

          NOMENCLATURE: PROPRIETA XX CORPO

                                        CAPO MEDICO OFFIZIERE

APPARATI UNITA MOBILE PER RAGGI X

                                        ATTENZIONE!  ESILE APPARATI!

     Delicate medical equipment.  Hmmmm I wonder what mischief can be conjured from that?

It's Official

Thanks to Joe Blogs for doing an extensive explanation of how badly the Ruffian economy is tanking (no pun intended).  For those unaware, Peter The Average stopped Ruffian economic data being published from May last year, because they would have shown how badly the economy is doing.  Even at the height of the Cold War the Sinister Union never stopped putting out it's economic data, so imagine how bad things are for them now.  Art!

     Officially, Ruffian stats have their economy contracting by 2.5% in 2022.  'O is that all?' I hear you quibble.  Ah but that works out at nearly $50 billion.  Not quite so blase now, are you?  In fact the real figure is almost certainly higher, because the Ruffians lie about everything.

     That's not all the bad news, either.  The volume of oil and gas being exported has declined significantly, because the EU is cutting off said supplies and sourcing from alternatives.  Nor is that all the bad news, because the price of said hydrocarbons has fallen to $55 per barrel for oil.  And it costs the Ruffians $40 per barrel to get it out of the ground.

     This is on top of the 2023 budget, of which a third will be on defence spending.  Roads?  Hospitals?  Education?  Pensions?  Forgetabout'em.  Art!

*  See what I d - O you do.