Let Me Take You Back To A Time When Dynasoars Roamed The Skies
Well, almost. And that terrible pun? Not down to Conrad. No, some large business entities have a little naughtiness in them, and it comes out in the oddest ways. Let us introduce you, the viewer, to the Boeing X-20 spaceplane, the 'Dyna-Soar', which is a portmanteau version of 'Dynamic Soarer'. The "X" part of the above indicates that it's "eXperimental" rather than a proven model in serial production. Art!
The Dyna-Soar is the delta-dartlike craft atop these
Sadly, it was one of those ambitious projects that got junked, because had it been a real thing we'd have a permanent base on the Moon by now and a temporarily-manned one on Mars (the future is sexist).
Of course, none of this has anything to do with British pub-rock bands of the mid-Seventies, because you surely don't expect BOOJUM! to do anything sensible and predictable, do you? Art!
They were a band, with a rather clever name. Conrad distinctly remembers hearing them on Peely's show late at night, and thinking that they had a rather icy, cerebral ring to them. Doubtless, were I to investigate on Youtube, they would sound rather different, as it's been fifty years. They have absolutely no link with Project Dyna-Soar, which went toes-up a good dozen years before they had their fifteen minutes. Although, given long enough, Conrad could probably bodge up a connection, because Seven Degrees Of Kevin Bacon.
ANYWAY here's the latest in our long line of mockery poking malicious fun at Putin On The Fritz, and today we concentrate on his third world nation's civilian air fleet. Art!
Here you see a peculiarly Ruffian solution to the problem of spare parts: cannibalisation, because Ruffia hasn't got any and sanctions prevent them from acquiring any. This is bad news because the 850 leased aircraft that the Ruffians seized after February 22nd 2022 are nearly all Western, from Boeing and Airbus. As predicted last year, they are having to strip aircraft of parts in order to keep others running.
Ooops.
The Ruffian 'work-around' is to buy up generic spare parts to switch in for the non-existent Western parts, which works, but costs 400% more. Or, they just try to make do. Fuel filters, for example, which have a definite limited lifetime, are merely cleaned off and replaced, since there's nothing new to install. Art!
What can possibly go wrong?
There is a 'grey market' in airline spares being sold to the Ruffians from middlemen like Turkey or the UAE, which can involve mark-ups of 1,000% because they know they can gouge their clients for everything possible. However, the parts suppliers have cottoned on to this and now require details down to the tail-fin number of the aircraft these parts are going to be used on.
That things are going awry is acknowledged even by the Ruffian's tame press, who have admitted that emergency landings, outright crashes, malfunctions and depressurisations have been occurring on a worryingly regular basis of late. Art!
What we'll see more of
The other proposed 'work-around' is to raise ticket prices by 30% and thus chisel funds out of the passengers, whom are going to be increasingly reluctant to fly in an aerial coffin and pay for the pleasure of.
Thing is, there are cities in Siberia where there are NO road or rail links because it's so remote and inhospitable. What are they going to do? Cannibalisation works for people as well as aircraft, remember.
Conrad is minded of his old work colleague Julie, whose husband had been travelling in Ruffia after the Sinister collapse. He was on an airplane when they had to pass the hat around to get funds in order to pay the pilot.
Plummet Airlines: Fly The Skies Of Ruffia!
Someone who's given up travelling by air ...
Conrad Had An Idea
Nothing unusual there, I usually have half a dozen on the bus into Manchester, some of which are actually quite sane. "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" they asked. "The Archaeopteryx!" replied Conrad, happy to put that one to bed. Art!
I don't think you're going to get that on a rotisserie any time soon
Since I had been watching the fifth season of "Dad's Army" I remembered that they were originally called the 'Local Defence Volunteers' before they became the 'Home Guard'. So, 'LDV' for short.
The thing is, Conrad has a positive skip for a memory, and he recalled a long-ago public service broadcasting advert that also featured 'LDV'. Art!
Thus we have established that this chap is The Baddy. He litters everywhere, being able to generate rubbish from his interior coat pockets - actually let's not analyse that too deeply, it's a bit worrying.
Who tackles the aftermath? Why none other than the - Art!
Worry ye not, redemption is at hand. Art!
I'm pretty sure Captain Mainwaring would have something to say about those short skirts, but it was 1968 and charming young ladies did enjoy a bit of bracing fresh air around the legs. Conrad isn't complaining.
O Look Another Old Book
I think this one was a car boot special, from years ago. Originally I'd misidentified the date as being in the Sixties but it turns out not <sad face> even if it is from the early Seventies <slightly happier face>. Art!
Note that line in the blurb about 'drawing the fire up to the television' because we all have central heating now and watch flatscreen monitors with streaming services.
Note, too, the characteristic browning of the pages at the edges, which is a thing you find with publications like this. I think it's cheap woodpulp reacting to sunlight.
I haven't actually tried any of these recipes yet - you will inevitably find out when I do.
"The Sea Of Sand"
The silence of rather a lot of explosive power has settled over the Libyan sands, leaving our gallant band of human survivors and the Doctor to weigh matters up.
Professor Templeman stared at his
scuffed, dusty shoes, the laces heavy with sand. Bourgebus had died early on, a victim of the
sinister alien machines. Albert, that
dark horse, had vanished over the dig at Makin Al-Jinni. The entire dig, with all its evidence, had
been blasted to bits. No surviving
aliens remained. He had no evidence to
put forward in any thesis or paper. Dead
end.
‘Very
well,’ said the Tenente. ‘Due west leads
to Axis forces.’
‘Indeed!’
beamed the Doctor. ‘And the first
formation you will meet will be the Thirty Third Reconaissance Battalion of the
Afrika Korps. Make sure to tell them that the depot at Mersa Martuba –
codenamed “Fledermaus” if I remember correctly – that the depot has been
successfully destroyed by it’s defenders.’
Doretti
waved excitedly.
‘Sir! Sir, I can pick up Twentieth Corps! The jamming has finished!’
Dominione
looked acutely at his passengers.
‘Time
for us to depart, I feel,’ muttered the Doctor.
‘I
think it is, perhaps, time for our truce to expire,’ said the Italian officer,
reaching almost unconsciously for his Beretta sub-machine gun.
‘What’s
going to happen to me?’ complained Professor Templeman, nudging Sarah in the
ribs. ‘ I’m not a soldier! You can’t hold me as a prisoner of war!’
Hmmm the unworldly Professor seems to have realised he's in the middle of a war zone.
Finally -
Dog Buns! Got into the office this morning and realised I'd forgotten my teaspoon, but thankfully there was one lying on the sink top and Conrad got his morning drink of hot Marmite ('Reduced Salt') and stale bread. I have now zipped a teaspoon into my rucksack and can thus enjoy both Darjeeling tea - in a teabag but one has to slum it occasionally - and very strong coffee. It is indeed the little things. Art!
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