NO! You're Mistaking Today's Theme With Video Nasties
This is one from the vaults - "The Driller Killer", made waaaay back in 1979, and which got the Moral Majority's pants in a twist thanks to the gory cover art on the VCR cover. Unusually for a slasher film, the homicidal handyman's victims are not attractive young women, but dirty old down-and-out winos and derelicts. Art!
Before After
Conrad has seen a short clip of this, and that's all, as he feels no need to complete the cinematic experience. Nor is he convinced that a cordless power drill makes an effective murder weapon, because of the loud noise for one thing and the fact that anyone who experiences a rapidly-rotating drill bit to their tender epidermis would definitely recoil in pain, not to men
ANYWAY what I am alluding to today is the sheer prevalence, almost preponderance, of roadworks in the environs of Gomorrah-on-the-Irwell, and how they shaped Your Humble Scribe's morning. If you think this is Conrad merely whining, remember that each double-decker bus affected means another 70+ people enduring petty misery. Art!
Sorry, gentle reader, I couldn't get a proper angle on the manhole cover that still hasn't been given a proper caulking. That roadworks sign is the best I can do.
There were signs that the trams were back in action. Take a look at the Central Park bus stop yesteryon morning: Art!
Let me remind you what it resembled the morning before -
By way of confirmation, I did stop on the way into the office to get a confirmatory photograph that Metrolink were back in business. Art!
ANYWAY back to the roadworks, which of course are initially excavated by workmen with drills, just so we're clear about that title. Your Humble Scribe got off the bus at the end of Oldham Street, as this saves as much as five minutes while the 83 bus tries to get through two sets of traffic lights.
What do we see? MORE ROADWORKS! Art?
Proof positive that getting off and walking saves a good five minutes. Also, once I got off the bus and it was restricted to one lane thanks to Attack Of The Traffic Cones, an aged crone driving an electric scooter got ahead of them and moderated the bus's speed to all of three miles per hour. Art!
You can just see the scooter driver to port of the direction sign at starboard. No doubt experiencing the raw adrenaline rush of pushing the transport envelope.
The morning's excitement wasn't over. As I strode purposefully toward Shude Hill, I passed a set of vehicles that were parked next to the kerb, where signs indicated that parking permission had been paused. Art!
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| "These are NOT public toilets - FILM CREW ONLY!" |
Not a clue as to who was shooting what, but ages ago when I worked at Sainsbo's, there were occasionally parking bans on this street so that film crews could shoot here. Conrad never learned who they were, either. Sorry if that leaves your thirst for knowledge un-assuaged.
The Castle In The Bay Of Castlebay
Castlebay, for your information, is the largest village on the island of Barra, in the Hebrides. There is a tiny castle perched on a rock in the harbour, which puzzled Your Humble Scribe no end. Art!
Why build such a fortification in such a remote location? No, it's not very large, yet the stones would still have to be quarried and transported over water to lay the foundations and curtain walls.
A bit of digging ensued. The castle probably dates from the mid-fifteenth century, when it was constructed by the Macneil clan. They are politely described as 'a seafaring clan', which appears to be a Caledonian euphemism for 'corsairs, buccaneers and pirates'. It seems that the law of the land lay but lightly over the Hebrides, and if you could put your hot sweaty mitts on a property, that made it yours. Art!
At low tide
So Gilleonan Macneil set about fortifying the small islet in the bay, just to prove that Barra was his and he'd fight for it if need be.
"The War Illustrated"
I'd like to put up a couple of pictures from the latest TWI that I've photographed, beginning with one that is hauntingly ironic. Art!
How hilarious, an offensive coming from the east to drive out the Nazis, where have I read of that recently?
ANYWAY here's the back page photograph, tricked out with a little 'false-colour'. Art!
These are British troops moving along the slopes of Monte Camino, and you can see the 45ยบ angle the mountainside slopes at, which is quite bad enough without the enemy intending to do you harm. At bottom port you can see a six-man stretcher party bringing in a casualty, and they're going to have to follow that dog-leg track as it back-and-forths across the mountainside. Now you see why mules were so essential in terrain like this.
"City In The Sky"
The bean-counters and accountants and efficiency experts are huddling around Virginia Branson, trying to take in that the 'Money Pit In The Sky' is actually a viable orbital environment.
Virginia Branson had come to DS-5 with the firm intention of closing
down what her advisors told her was a multi-billion pound annual drain on the
finances of Virgin, a shocking waste of resources that had inexplicably been
allowed to fester for the past twenty-five years. She felt less certain of herself when Harris,
the Project’s Chief Administrator, revealed that Arcology One had people aboard.
‘Is this possible?’ she asked Hubley, the
poseur who liked to wear Raybans indoors.
‘Absolutely not!’ he hissed back.
‘He’s just trying to unsettle us.’
Ludovic, the communications specialist who sported a cyber-implant
behind his right ear, too, began to dial up a connection without asking or
telling. He remained silent whilst the
rest of the group continued their hissed discussion.
‘This changes nothing.
Twenty-five years of spending billions to put a hundred and fifty people
into orbit – if they are up there! –
is just a waste of resources.’
‘It’s a bluff.’
‘Empty or not, it needs to be closed down.’
The teenaged girl turned back to face Harris, who had remained standing
at the window, looking on with a mild amusement that annoyed her more than
disdain or hatred or simple patronising would have done.
Well, you lot seem mightily unsettled. heh.
Life Imitating Art
No, I mean 'Art' as the concept, not our resident coal-devouring Neanderthal waster. Art!
Of course it does - it has to sustain the plot of my fan-fiction!
So far there are 800 people waiting for a trip to the edge of space, and since each ticket costs £340,000, you're looking at an income of £272,000,000 or over a quarter of a billion pounds (currency not mass). Not a bad total!
Finally -
I did caution you on Facebook that there would be blood, and indeed there was today. My blood, thanks very much. My precious bodily fluids, if you will. I needed to give a blood sample for diabetic testing, and of course I whined like a baby with a rash during the process. Art!
My somewhat drained arm, plus cotton swab held in place by surgical tape. When I pulled it off, it hurt: there's a lot of hair under there. I shall try and milk it for sympathy tomorrow.
And with that we are O so done!
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