NAKED HOLLYWOOD STARS IN THE SHOWER!

Yeah, I Thought That Would Get Your Attention

You Slobbering Perverts, as we like to classify you on the blog.  Don't complain, we'll get to the naked and shower bit shortly.  First of all, allow me to enlighten you somewhat about the current films I am watching.  Art!

     That's not strictly true: Shaun and Liz in SOTD are at least competent - Liz being more competent that Shaun in pretty much everything - whereas Fujio and Mitsuo are bungling incompetents of the first order.  They can eat with chopsticks and drive a truck, but anything more complex is a challenge to them.  Art!

     Their survival in a Japan over-run by zombies is due to sheer luck as much as anything else.

     ANYWAY we are back on the subject of "The Big Parade", which you will remember was one of the most feted films of 1925, and for at least a decade afterwards.  It concerns the South Canadians and their inculcation - not a word you expected to read today - into the First Unpleasantness of late 1917 and early 1918.  The whole film clocks in at 2 hours 29 minutes, so there was little pressure on the editors to crank out a hasty bang-bang shooty-shooty film.  Art!

     Ah yes, the billeting system, long beloved of the British army in France and Flanders.  Essentially a formation would march from one location to another, in order to bed down and sleep in the latter, which might be difficult thanks to circumstance.  Art!

     As these South Canadians have discovered, French farmers tended to amass a gigantic pile of manure in the very middle of their courtyard, and these unfortunate chaps are hieing it yonder and thonce to clean things up a tad.  Only once tidied do they get to bed.

     For people used to indoor plumbing and hot water, this is a cruel and unusual punishment.  James, who whilst not very worldly is still quite ingenious, declares that he could create an impromptu shower - if he had a barrel big enough.  Art!

Barrel = 1  Jim  = 0

     From there Jim is able to construct a reasonable gravity-powered shower, where water is dumped into the barrel, which has a holed baseplate.  Art!

     Melisande, the love interest, wanders into shot.  Since she is French, she is not remotely scandalised, and indeed takes in the picture of a couple of hunky hairy South Canadian warriors without blinking, bless her non-judgemental eyes.  Art!

Nope!  No higher resolution is being made available.

     At this point I should perhaps point out that the two actors here became famous thanks to starring in TBP, because one of them, Karl Dane, was so fantastically ugly that ladies would have been chanting "Get 'em on!  Get 'em on!" otherwise.  He appeared to have an infinitely-extensible starboard mouth, which was great for character if not so much persona.  Art!

     He was actually Rasmus Karl Therkelsen Gottlieb, and had a short career in Hollywood after TBP.  

     As for his co-<thinks about trying to find a word that deals with soap and gives up> star, Tom O'Brien, this is the kind of role he got forever afterwards.  Art!

     Karl at port, John in middle and Tom at starboard, a role he was typecast in many subsequent movies, which is shorthand for I cannot find any more detail to purvey.

     So.  They were Hollywood stars, if only rather after the barrel scene.  And you're welcome.

Look, Look, A Very Old Book!

Nothing new , to be honest, as Conrad has many an old book, usually the "Official History Of -" or somesuch, and this is no exception.  Art!

     As you can see, this has a really crisp cover, so much so that it has to have been re-bound in the recent past, as there's NO WAY a book over a hundred years old would look as spick and span.  It seems to have gone from Oldham to Chester library and was not in much demand.  Despite the very nice lithographs inside, one of which you can see here; Conrad can't make out the artist's name but will endeavour to find out for you later.

     The first 30 pages are tedious stuff indeed, about the history of the Territorials since 1859.  I dare not type more about this or I'd fa

Birdsweat!  Dog Buns!

The First Bus ticket app isn't working, so no e-tickets for Conrad <angry face> and not only that, my Dog Buns mobile digital devil's device needs to update, in a process that will take 11 hours <angrier face>.  AND I need to get into Sainsbo's to get more Reduced Salt Marmite, to say nothing of travelling into work tomorrow.

     BAH! <angriest face>

"Vorga, I kill you deadly!"

     Apparently we are going over to home-working from July.  Can't come soon enough!

"The Sea Of Sand"

The Doctor, having satisfyingly reduced Homeworld to a state of revolutionary anarchy, is now pondering how to deal with the bio-vore threat on Earth.

Except, and a big difference here, the life-signs equipment showed a fantastic array of life in the Mediterranean.  Millions of tons of fish. 

          Easier prey than humans, realised the Doctor.  Fish might have body armour in the form of scales, and weapons in the form of teeth, yet nothing they possessed compared to human weapons technology.  Bio-vores who managed to get into the Mediterranean would have an unlimited harvest to reap.  Planet Earth would never be free of them.

          ‘Doctor!’  came a warning shout from outside, a voice he recognised.

          ‘Sarah!’ replied the Doctor, whirling round expecting to see her, and coming face-to-face instead with a bio-vore.  Beyond, looking nervous, Sarah and Professor Templeman hovered in the building’s doorway.

          This alien was only six feet tall, and far thinner than any he had encountered so far.  One of those energy-dependent offspring reproduced as a result of the bio-vores “harvesting” human life-energies.

          ‘Would you like to talk about it?’ tried the Doctor, holding both hands up, palms outward at shoulder-level in the universal sign for non-combatant.  The bio-vore hissed loudly, stamping forward.

          ‘Excuse me!’ came a shrill female voice from just beyond the doorway, followed by a stone that struck the alien, which turned.  It hissed again, until Sarah advanced, holding one hand aloft.  Then it growled, preparing to attack.

     O that gel Sarah, she cannot help but fall feet-first into trouble, can she?

You May Be Aware

That the Fun-Sized Foot Fiddler is going to be celebrating on May 9th with the annual Ruffian Victory parade, where they lie about winning the Second Unpleasantness solo, and generally use it to legitimise themselves.  However, May 9th 2023 is going to be a little different.  Art!

    You see, the Ukes have an ongoing competition, prize value £500,000, for the drone operator who lands one on Red Square during the parade.  No mention of an explosive payload, but it wouldn't need one if successful - a flag that has "BANG!" written upon it would do.  And the Ruffians have shown how rubbish their anti-aircraft defences are.  Also -

     "For security" say the Ruffian authorities, who must surely fear the Ukrainian ability to hit the very farthest east of Siberia.

     "No kit left to parade nor men to parade with" reply the cynics, who are also realists.

     "No victories to celebrate" adds Conrad, in his usual unpleasant style.

Finally -

I was wondering where Edna had vanished to - then I put my plate down and the subtle chink of china had her appear as if by magic.  Here, Edders, have this crust!