A Blow-By-Blow Job

Conrad Narrowed His Eyes Menacingly -

Yes, I have got the Remote Nuclear Detonator to hand, all freshly lubricated with a fine graphite powder and just itching to be used.  So I'd better not hear anything at all smutty YOU DISGUSTING PERVERTS.  

     Now, you might be thinking that this is about The Grandfather Of Rock, Jeff Beck, and his seminal album of the same name. Art!

The musician's musician

      Sadly not today.  Well worth a listen, mind.

      If I were to let it slip that this Intro involves working at height, you may well conclude that we're talking about flies, because there most certainly exists an unpleasant arthropod known as the 'blow-fly', which doubtless infests the air at height, or it does until it encounters an aircraft windscreen.  Art!

 - or Conrad with a newspaper

      Well, if I were to further let slip that we happen to be dealing with a cylindrical structure, once again you might leap to the conclusion that this Intro is about a blow-pipe.  Art!

     Once again you'd be WRONG.

     For the article in question is a brick chimney.  No, not the minor excrescence that sits upon your roof; we are talking about a full-scale Victorian mill chimney 265' tall, which has long outstayed it's welcome and which needs to be demolished.  Art!    

      The trouble is, the chimney is surrounded by other buildings and even nearby domestic housing, so bringing it down with explosives is completely contra-indicated.  Not only for technical reasons; the factory owners refused point-blank to allow anything even slightly bang-ish to be involved.

      So, how to action it?  Well, you hire a man with no sense of fear or safety, pay him £7,000 and have him demolish it from the top down, brick by brick.  Solo.

      Enter Fred Dibnah, steeplejack extraordinaire.  He would gladly take on jobs that nobody else would entertain.  What you see him working on here is the Briar Mill chimney, which exploit was filmed by the BBC, who thus preserved his highly eccentric, not to mention EXTREMELY DANGEROUS work practices.  Art!

       Here we see Fred busy at work, WITHOUT A HARNESS OR A HARD HAT although fair play to him, he is wearing boots not trainers.  Or sandals.  And yes, he is doing what he seems to be doing, bashing the chimney bricks down by hand with a cold steel chisel and a hammer by dint of blow after blow.  This is in 1979, so no mobile phones, but he and his compatriot on the ground waaaaay below don't even have children's walky-talkies on hand.  Since a giant chimney like this will contain hundreds of thousands of bricks, he's got his work cut out.  Art!

     This gives you an idea of the height he's working at.  A trip, a slip, a dodgy plank or piece of scaffolding and he's got about five seconds to review his life choices.

     Conrad can tell what you're thinking: what's all this about his 'compatriot' down below?  Is this not a solo project?

     Not entirely.  You see, Fred requires another work colleague to help haul up the ladders you saw on the side of the chimney.  Fred sits atop the end of a ladder and another gets hauled up to him so he can rope it to the pitons he hammers into the brickwork.  Matey at the bottom also gets rid of the spoil that comes hurtling down the chimney, taking good care to warn Fred not to brain him with bricks.  Art!

It saves having to pay for a refuse chute

     I know what you're thinking - how did the BBC get a great big unwieldly camera and sound-gear up to the top of this cylindrical monster?  Because you wouldn't dare haul expensive and costly electronic gear up on the end of a cable.  

     O I'm so glad you asked!  Art?

     They cheated.

     Of course - obviously! - another steeplejack or demolition company could have used this crane and basket method with pneumatic drills to demolish the chimney, but Conrad is guessing such crane and tool hire would be very expensive, many times Fred's humble tender, which involves no moving parts or mechanical components.  Striking a blow for the common man, you might say.

"The Big Parade"

Another slice of Your Humble Scribe's trenchant analysis of this film from 1925.  It may not appeal to any of you out there, being as it's 1) Silent and 2) Black and white.  Well, that only shows what you're missing.  

There was no shortage of kit, because shortly after the ‘Big Parade’ of motor transport, we get more shots of artillery and limbers following up, with a few of those 100 aircraft adding a bit of local colour.  Art!

Shortly after, their marching column gets strafed by a Teuton aircraft, upon which the doughboys, feeling highly aggrieved and unloved, fire back.  Art!

These are (French) Hotchkiss machine-guns on an anti-aircraft mount.  One omission from the South Canadian troops is their Chauchat light machine gun, which they loathed with a passion, as it was notorious for poor reliability.  This was partly due to it being chambered for the South Canadian 30-06 round, which was a lot more powerful than the original French Lebel cartridge.  The US Army got rid of them in 1918, which may be why we don’t see any.

I Called It

Conrad finds proof that "The Daily Beast" misses being part of the British Empire, usually on a daily basis, as they simply cannot forego commenting upon our Monarchy.  Here's one on Queenie, who was a big Doctor Who fan.  Art!

     Technically, they ought to have put "Queen Elisabeth II", because we did have another one on the throne, even if it was quite a while ago.  Conrad and BOOJUM!: sticklers for accuracy.

"City In The Sky"

Alex and Ace find that cultures collide in the medium future, or at least they do for those accustomed to live in an orbiting space habitat.

‘Oh, they quite like it up here.  I think they’d be happy to stay if they could get regular resupply shuttles, which is what the Carlsbad Crew are supposed to be working on.’

     When standing back inside the sphere, Ace felt a sense of relief at breathing air that didn’t come out of a bottle, and that the heavens above (or below) could be safely ignored as long as you didn’t peer out of the transparent panels.

     ‘Phew!’ she gasped in relief.  All the practice in musty old suits from the Tardis still couldn’t prepare you for the overwhelming immensity of space, made all the more awesome by the close proximity of Earth and the Moon.  ‘Fantastic view, but a bit hairy getting to it.’

     Alex nodded in silent agreement.  It was months since he’d been out on the hull, finishing off the inner fittings on Dart Three, and the view took a lot of getting used to, again.  He stared unashamedly when Ace fiddled with the seams of her tights to get them aligned properly, making her look up at him with an expression of annoyance. Men! And teenaged boys!

     ‘Haven’t you ever seen a girl’s legs before!’ she snapped at him.  He looked back at her face, genuinely unaware of having caused offence.  Having been in her company for several hours, he felt bold enough to ask what he’d wondered when they first met.

     Ah yes.  Teenagers.

Finally -

Somewhat to my surprise, we are having a team meeting over Zoop or Tames or somesuch tomorrow, which means Conrad needs a shower, either first thing tomorrow or later tonight, in order to appear respectable.  Or more respectable than an unshaven pensioner with stubble.  I see we are now down to 14 folks of the original 32 who began in late April; wonder what the story is behind the departed 18?

     I have also learned not to put my life-saving digital fan on my laptop when both are running.  It's not clear how, but this combination managed to activate the Filter Keys, which prevent any more than a single key stroke at a time, which is HIGHLY INCONVENIENT when crafting words of wit, wisdom and wonder.  You can't backspace more than a single space, can't use the space-bar more than once, cannot use the arrow keys more than once, and the keys make a worrying clicking sound when used.  Art!

Engine of treachery!