Qui Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?

We Don't Often Begin BOOJUM! With A Latin Quote

Don't think I'm going to trawl thousands of blog titles just to see if this statement is correct, just take it as read.

     So, one of the more annoying trends amongst authors that Conrad has noted is giving a quote in a foreign tongue - and not translating it.  One can make a fair stab at French or even Latin, but when it's in Greek? <loud harrumphing noise>.  Thus: "Who watches the watchmen?"  Art!

     Not a bad film, actually, considering the original graphic novel - very definitely not a mere comic book - was considered unfilmable.  Alan Moore and David Gibbons take on who watches the watchmen? (also the motto of the Watergate enquiry).  Who guards the guards?  Who polices the police?  Who traffics the traffic wardens? we ask.

     For Lo! we have a tale of malicious compliance, once again from South Canada, and rather then being a tale of office or industrial plant woes, this one concerns the Police.  The Sly Uniformed Narrator, hereafter SUN, was careful not to identify which state, city or precinct he worked in, just that the station housed 240 police in three 8-hour shifts.  Art!

     Trouble arrived in the form of a new Inspector, who was stricken with New Broom Syndrome, so we shall dub him Brushy Bafune, or BB.  BB insisted that his police officers all fill out detailed daily diaries of all the acts they performed, no exceptions or excuses permitted and his wrath would befall anyone not conforming.

     Got it, internalised SUN.  Everything as by book as possible.  Art!

  BB's first clash came with lunches.  This proves he was a moron because only a manager deficient in brain cells interferes with his staff's meals, as Jeremy Clarkson proved.  BB tried to force the officers to have their meals on his roster, disregarding their legal requirement - surprisingly, police officers are quite up to the minute on legal requirements - to have a lunch break after 5 hours.  All in the name of efficiency, with write-ups threatened if they dared to disobey him, etcetera.  This was stopped dead by the officer's union - ah, now we know who watches the watchmen! - and BB lost this round.

     But was he disheartened?  No!  Instead he doubled down on the diary sheets, punishing those who didn't comply.  SUN simply annotated everything, turning what had been a single sheet into 4, and informed his colleagues of his actions.  Which then became their actions.  Instead of a somewhat spotty return of forms, all 240 officers began turning in 4 diary sheets each, making 720 forms.

     BB ran into trouble about lunches again, because one of the legal requirements was the word 'Uninterrupted', and he constantly interrupted lunches to rant and tant.  This meant the officers were entitled to monetary compensation, which he blocked and refused to pay, so once again here comes the union.  They took legal action against him, for several hundred instances of Interrupted Lunch, the case went to court, he lost every single one and had to spend his whole weekend up to 21:00 hours Sunday processing them.  Unpaid.  Tee hee!  Art?

     Then he tried to reduce the avalanche of paperwork he received daily, unsuccessfully, because the officer's argument was that they'd been told to document absolutely everything and if they disobeyed they'd be punished, and he tried to triple down and threaten with charges of disobedience.

     Enter that dragon the union, again.  They sent all BB's blustering bloviating to the District Commanders, and to the Police Commissioner, warning that the legal consequences of BB's inanity would continue, unless -

     The Commissioner had a reputation for not tolerating manglement in the force.  BB was instantly switched to a desk job doing admin with no staff involvement, and was quietly 'let go' eight months later.  His daily diary drudge went out of the window as soon as he moved on.

     I think I answered my own question there.  Clearly, police unions have a lot of clout in checking mis-behaving superiors, and Commissioners have a lot of clout in getting rid of incompetent minions.  Art!

Commissioner Gordon.  Not a man to cross.

"The War Illustrated Edition 209 22nd June 1945"

The more perceptive of you may have noticed that the quote marks are now in Taupe, which is indicative, not of any great conspiracy theorem, but of Conrad being deliberately idle.  Now, on to the montage.  Art!

     Of whom 123,000 were French, and when the Armistice came into being with France later submitting to Teuton occupation, guess what?  Nearly all those French troops went right back to France, with a mere rump backing a chancer of an officer named 'De Gaulle'.  Well well, who was laughing just over 4 years later?

     ANYWAY 'Operation Dynamo' was an unparalleled success and both the Royal Navy and the 'Little Ships' deserve every plaudit laden upon them.  However - O that word again! - as Winnie observed, "Wars are not won by evacuations".  Absolutely correct, but they are lost when there's no evacuations.

Conrad Cavils Cowardly

There are a few hobbies that are so dangerous anyone participating must be tired of life or an adrenaline junkie, or both.  This is why Your Humble Scribe, an utter coward from way back, cannot understand the appeal of bungee jumping, alligator wrestling or catching a cricket ball in your mouth.  Art!

     " - the lower circles of Hades", perhaps?

     No.  Art!

"If you cave dive without the right training, equipment and mindset, it can be a very dangerous place. "

     Here's the rub.  Even if you dive with the right training, equipment and mindset, it's still a very dangerous place.  Conrad has read enough Youtube horror stories about cave divers who died to have less than zero per cent interest in this sport.  Art!

Imagine one of these, smack in the kisser at 45 m.p.h.

     I wonder if this is the source of that expression 'Corking!' meaning excellent or very good?

Introducing The Hard Rock Punk Metal-Heads, Mosquito Destroy Lantern!

Or not.  
     You see, one of the people I follow on Twitter is Shaun Pinner whose name you ought to Google, especially in conjunction with that ballfoot chap Abramovich.  He recently posted an example of what I think is caustically called 'Chinglish', where the valiant scribes of the exotic East demonstrate how little they understand the Mother Of Languages.  Art!

     "Put the power line to insert the power line."  You can't get more Zen that that.  Well, Shaun, old chap, you have discovered a mighty source of inspiration for band names.

"We're Mosquito Destroy Lantern

And we come from Xanten

We kill the evil Anophalese

Without even saying please!"

     With heartfelt apologies to The Skreeming Voles, who were here at the establishment of BOOJUM! and look where we've ended up now.  'Anophalese', for your information, is a species of mosquito, and Xanten is a real town in Germany.

An Unprecedented Moment Of Ballfoot Indulgence

Conrad guessed there was a ballfoot event going on tonight as I wandered into and around Lesser Sodom this evening, for there were young chaps walking around looking ten feet tall, shouting "OLDHAM!", and what's this, a family of five, all wearing 'Oldham Athletic' shirts, and occasionally a passing car would toot it's horn.  Art!

     Conrad is quietly chuffed that his local town's ballfoot team have done well enough to get promoted.  Oldham Athletic seem to be more about the game and sport than the English Primary Logue (sp?), which is instead all about their share price, television income negotiations and how to fleece fans with iteration number #223 of their shirt.
     

Finally -

Having been holding forth about the ballfoot game, I shall dunk myself in cold hard reality by going and sorting out the tumble drier.