A Rob For My Own Back

NO!  THAT IS NOT A TYPO!

It is, in fact, an hilarious pun HILARIOUS I TELL YOU since Conrad's Sunday best name is indeed 'Rob', except when I'm in trouble and then it's 'Robert' with distinct undertones of threat.

     What am I talking about?  Nonsense, as Sophie once so exquisitely described BOOJUM!  More specifically, how I've been on off on a Bank Holiday and, whilst I have puttered and pottered around to the tune of 3,500 steps, I've also managed a second blog post instead of saving it for tomorrow.  Art!

Rory, the Doctor and Amy

     This means I now have less than four hours to come up with another 1,200 words of wit, wisdom and wonder so that I can post it as of tomorrow lunchtime.

     Well, wouldn't you know it, I came across a plot outline of mine from about six years ago, dealing with a Doctor Who  fan-fiction story concerning the trio above, on my external drive.  Art!

     It was indeed to be mostly based in Norfolk, thanks to Your Humble Scribe getting hold of a book of myths and legends to do with the area.  I have a vague memory that it was on a Mediterranean cruise, but could be mistaken.

     <short pause to go get edibles from the oven>

     The basic idea is that a catastrophic event in the 21st century causes 'ripples' in time going both forward and backwards from that period, and by 'catastrophic' we are talking about an explosion that creates a new bay on the Norfolk coast that's 50 miles across.  I had about 6 chapters laid out, with a ton of background involving Norfolk legends that could be slotted into a sci-fi narrative if we only had enough grease and leverage, and we did.  Art!

USAAF tourists enjoying a fly-by

     I had even imported a character from my "UNIT UK" stories, the behemoth Colonel Walmsley, who is hinted at being a big cheese in UNIT UK (easily number three if not number two in that organisation) and whose temper meant that when he slammed the front door shut, the whole house felt it.

     Given that it's been years since I read or wrote this stuff, I'm a little at a loss to see what the Bad Guy's motivation is. "Let's just blow up the UK for shizzles and giggles" doesn't carry a whole lot of weight. Yes, they're evil, but they're not merely nihilists or they'd have blown the world up earlier.  What's their game plan?

     I dunno, perhaps it was all part of the 'Fake it till you make it' plot mechanism.

     Then, of course - obviously! - we have the partially-completed "The Maelstrom" which probably stopped dead when BOOJUM! started to be a thing.  Art!

CAUTION!  Grumpy Old Man is grumpy

     And now we are bringing back Fan Fiction.  So there.


A Rod For Anyone's Back

We mean, as if there could be any misunderstanding, Rod Taylor, that fixture of Fifties and Sixties film and television, who hailed from Ocker Land but whom overcame this handicap magnificently.  You see his name come up if there's any mention of time travel (see above for those with ridiculously short memories), thanks to "The Time Machine".  Art!

     Here you see Rod bearing down on the rod, which is an important plot point later on.  It transpires that you cannot guide a timeship without gem-encrusted McGuffins.  Conrad is pretty sure you could just use a screwdriver but what do I know?

Conrad - Still Seething With ANGER!

Or - business as usual.  Except for this week's schedules.  Am on a 9 hour day tomorrow, which means only 7 hours Friday, except the bafunes expect me to finish at 17:00 - by coming in at 11:00.

     We shall see.  I have oiled and tested the Remote Nuclear Detonator.

     ANYWAY back to those Codeword compilers, the pikers.

"JOCOSELY": Surely this kind of language went out of use in the Thirties?  If not the Twenties?  Conrad last recollects reading it in 'Para Handy Tales' forty years ago when it was forty years out of date.  "Characterised by humour" says my Collins Concise.  CONRAD NOT AMUSED.  Art!

This makes Conrad jocose.

"DOJO":  I dunno - something akin to MOJO?  DOMO? PERRY COMO?  O  I give up, what is it?  Something edible, no doubt.  Art!

Hmmmm unusual chef style

"EMPORIA": Bah - I bet the roots of this detestable word are buried deep in Latin!  It sounds like a plural.  Don't tell me, don't tell me, it's a late Roman Imperial term that denotes other empires that are fit to trade with them, such as the Sassanids or the Han.  Let me just check my Co

     DOG BUNS!  It's the plural of EMPORIUM, "A large retail shop offering for sale a wide variety of merchandise".  Sainsbo's in other words.  CONRAD IS VERY CROSS!

Sorry, chaps, how is Mumbai local?

"City In The Sky"

Only partly inspired by The Who's track.  Your Humble Scribe constructed this fan fiction as a follow-on to "Remembrance Of The Daleks", one of the best ever Doctor Who serials, with lots of in-jokes and yet some pretty deep concepts, and the ever-wonderful sight of Things Exploding. 

CITY IN THE SKY

 PROLOGUE

 There are very few occupations more tranquil and relaxing than sitting and idly contemplating a fishing line, under a big blue sky on the banks of a placid English river. 

Then again, there are few more frustrating trials of endurance than having to sit and bubble inside, seething with indignation, hatred, self-pity and contempt, when one’s companion is endeavouring to let the day slip away, un-remarked.

In this case the angler was, of course, the Doctor.  He had a line attached to the end of his umbrella, which lay balanced across his knees whilst he lay prone on the grassy bank, straw hat pitched over his face. 

The young woman sitting, knees up to her chest, hugging herself tightly, was Ace.  To her mind the Doctor had decided to inflict a cruel and unusual punishment on her, dragging her away from Mike Smith’s funeral to sit on the banks of the River Rowley.  The funeral might have been grim but she would have had the company of other people, instead of having merely her own sombre thoughts.

She moodily threw a stone into the slow, green waters of the Rowley, creating a notable “plop”.

‘Ace!’ scolded the Doctor.  ‘You’ll scare the fish away.’

Some hope! she nearly replied.

‘Scumbag,’ she added, accidentally speaking aloud.

     Ace, forever unlucky in love, had been badly burned in their previous adventure, poor lass.

    Well, that takes half an hour off the composition time, thankfully as Conrad still needs a shower to ensure he stinketh not tomorrow.

Atlas, Poor Yorick

I don't think he got his COVID boosters, unlike Conrad, who is an utter coward yet feels that getting an injection via needle beats dying.

     ANYWAY we are going on about one of the islands in the Kuril Islands chain, that archipelago that the Ruffians stole from the Japanese at the end of the Second Unpleasantness.  The Japanese know it as "Aidan" which is good enough, who cares what the Ruffians call it*.  Art!

     The island is a bit of a hot spot, and the volcano last erupted in 2016, which is practically seconds ago in geological terms.

*  "Atlasov Island" or this item wouldn't make any sense.