Cornetto Fiasco Imbroglio!

No, That Isn't Latin
It might be Italian.  Anyway, as you surely know by now, one of Conrad's little foibles is his fondness for having ice cream for breakfast.  This has aroused both curiosity and criticism at work - now that it's not fashionable to critique people on left or right-handedness, we ice-cream-breakfasters are the target of choice.  
     For reasons of logistics and thawing time, it's not possible for me to transport either my Frozen Yoghurt or Generic Cornetto-knockoffs to work without either melting, so I've been resorting to Cornettos from the shop in work.
     Not only do I get a staff discount, they're down to 25 pence each!

Breakfast!

     Unfortunately that's because they're being discontinued, according to the shop staff, which made Conrad gibber with panic at the prospect of a Cornetto-less future.  Will even the generic knock-offs* be going?
     I'll get back to you on this.

Further Of Food
We were notified earlier this afternoon about a competition, one of the prizes being a £130 toaster.  To enter one submitted a poem that included the words "giant" and "crumpet", as the competition sponsors are vending giant crumpets.
     As you surely know by now, Conrad hates poetry - hates hates hates it - but even the gentlest of nudges will inspire him to throw a bit of doggerel together:

“Warburtons, ever one to blow their trumpet,

Have created a newer, much larger, crumpet.

I like crumpets, but, alas, this novel giant

Won’t fit the toaster.  It’s not compliant!

So, if this rhyme permits me to be the winner,

I’ll have that toaster, and crumpets for dinner.”

Voila!

NO!  She's not really small.
It's a really big crumpet.  Read the title.  Do keep up!

     I should like to point out at this stage of the blog that I'm late, thanks to being an the later shift, and also thanks to the stunning ineptitude of First Bus - again.  Harping on about them might take a bit of the novel shine off BOOJUM! so I shall merely note their performance and move on.

Fog And Vanishing Landmarks
It was extremely foggy in Manchester yesterday, so much so that Dom remarked one couldn't see the Halle Tower, and indeed from our eyrie within the Electric Goldfish Bowl one couldn't even see the street outside.
     Scope, one imagines, for evil alien intruders to swoop in and remove such landmarks under cover of the fog.  I happened to mention the similar fate that befell the pub "Tommy Ducks" way back in 1993, except that back then it was construction companies who were responsible.  Less dangerous than aliens but quicker off the mark as they don't have to travel 187 light-years to the workplace.

As it was

     It transpires that the pub got a Preservation order arranged, which expired on 12th February 1993, at midnight.
     Come the very first stroke of 13th February 1993, it got flattened instantly and was completely gone by the next day.
     Gosh!  I bet you're wondering.  What on earth can the reason behind that have been?

No comment from Conrad -

"Dastard"
Please note, for non-English speakers**, that this word is NOT interchangable with the other one that begins with "B".
     It's origin is in Old English, from the Fifteenth Century, where it meant a "base coward", later evolving to mean "Dull and stupid".  Now, of course, it means an utter, unscrupulous rogue, especially -

No-one - absolutely NO-ONE - tweaks a moustache as villainously as Dick

     - the villain you love to hate, Richard Milhouse Dastardly.

Call Of Duty: Black Ops
Conrad's eye has been caught by the garish animated digital billboard that adorns the pavement close to the Electric Goldfish Bowl, particularly by an advert for the computer game above.
     Conrad is given to understand that "Black Ops" are covert, sneaky, deniable, stealthy, underhand jobs.  Not it these adverts are anything to go by - more Red and Yellow than Black thanks to all the explosions and blood.

"The Cat And The Canary"
Which is a fillum, in case you don't know, made back in 1939 and only 74 minutes long when people's attention spans were obviously shorter than today's MTV/mobile phone/computer game generation -
     - hang on, have I got that right?
     Whatever.  I'd seen this ages ago, read a review in "Empire" and decided to rewatch it.  Still entertaining and also refreshing to see a hero as cowardly as it's possible to get.

Bob Hope, literally bobbing along

     I do have a few questions.  Who opened the safe and read the letters that Uncle Charlie left behind, and how did they do it?  Because the creepy mansion he left behind is on an island, you can't just walk up to it and sneak in.  Also, how does the real cat get into and out of locked rooms that don't have catflaps?

Case in point

     Why strangle the lawyer?  - and then leave the incriminating letter in his pocket?  Why on earth bother to move his corpse?  And why did Paulette carefully pause outside the shed, allowing her stalker to see exactly where she was going to hide?
     Having re-established my credentials as a hair-splitting pedant, we shall now move on.

You What?
As you are probably aware, it takes very little, even nothing on occasion, to annoy Conrad.  A day without an episode of explosive rage is a day wasted, in my book.
     So!  It was with tremendous delight that I came across a hoarding that pumped up my venom levels to 11:

Maybe even 12.

     Excuse me?  "#becauseitschristmas"?

OH NO IT ISN'T!

     Bonfire Night has not even passed yet.  And these witless ululating*** baffoons are trying to use up the remaining time I have on this planet even more quickly?  A plague on them!  A pair of plagues on them!  May their life end up being run by First Bus!  Actually no, that's a bit harsh, run by ex-KGB hardliners with bad digestion and gout.

Oops.  Over 1,000 words.  And I had so much more to give!  Maybe tomorrow.

Chin chin!

* Which are of decidedly lower quality.
** Conrad deeply commiserates with you and hopes at least your climate is good, as things are already looking bad for you.
*** Noisy howling <translation from Pseud by Mister Hand>

Prost!

I Feel I Should Use This
 - as we have been discussing and illustrating and drinking to "Where Eagles Dare", which as you doubtless know by now is set in Germany, where they say "Prost!" in lieu of "Cheers!".
     One thing that annoys - I mean realllllly annoys, as badly as having American tanks from the Sixties painted grey pretending to be PANZERS! in "Battle of the Bulge"* - is the presence of a contemporary helicopter in the film.  It's not there for long, and is even worked into the script to imply that it's both new and experimental, yet it sends the Continuity Czars into fits of apoplexy.

See!  The Helicopter most Heinous!

      Conrad flicks an imaginary speck of dust from his mechlin lace cuffs**, as he is not big on aircraft and really can't be bothered.
     No, what ANNOYS Conrad about WED is the tracked armoured personnel carriers that crop up in the background, which are from the SIXTIES!

      I shall post a photo or two whilst my blood pressure falls back to normal -

There it is.  What did I tell you?

     There's more:

See the slinking steel beast sidle by!

And again.

     Where's all the fuss about the shamefully anachronistic use of <Mister Hand intervenes to prevent a twenty page rant>

First Bus - A Breach Of The Trades Descriptions Act?
Once again Conrad is annoyed.  I know, I know, most of you regard this as my default emotional state, and since I'm annoyed at First Bus, you're probably even more confirmed in your shockingly stereotyped analysis.
     It's just that, on the way into work, when I'm on a schedule, the 24 driver takes a long diversion that puts the bus firmly into a long, long queue of traffic in Moston.  On the way home, when my time is still precious yet not so strictured, the 24 driver doesn't bother with a diversion.
     Almost breaching our SFW credentials, I venture to suggest that First actually run Pubic Service Vehicles.  Any comment from their HR department?

"Yes.  Quote "Heh!" Unquote."

 Calendula Officinalis
I have to put this in to avoid a third post about how annoyed I am, although that will probably come in a few minutes.
     So, what or who or where is "Calendula Officinalis"?  It sounds like some civic worthy of the Second Century BC, from Rome, who - beat the Persians at chess?  Discovered you can eat grasshoppers if you roast them?  Bathed in asses sweat to keep his good looks?  Banned the keeping of walruses within the city limits?
   Sadly none of the above, which is good as walrus-banning is close to a violation of your human rights.
     It's a flower, better known as the Marigold.

Added to salads for colour

       And used in cosmetics for thousands of years, as you can get an oil from them that protects the skin.  Yes, I've been looking at the back of my bitty bottle of balm. Again.

Farewell, Halloween!
Yes, and about time too, as I was getting annoyed.  Firstly by the idiots who came knocking whilst Doctor Who was on - have these people no sense? - and secondly, much more intensely, by the excessive use of the pun "Spooktacular".

     ENOUGH WITH SPOOKTACULAR!  DESIST!  DON'T BRING IT UP IN 2016!

     Thank you.  That is all.

Another Annoying Spelling -
I'm really sorry for all this spite and venom, clearly that single word "Prost!" is the only thing about today's blog with any cheer or pleasantness about it.  Anyway, let me illustrate my point:

     Do you see what they did there?  "Armored" is deliberately mis-spelt, in that ingenuous way that the South Canadians have.  This advert is not only off-color, as they would put it, it's also off-center.  Or it would be if I didn't have to enlarge it so much.

Temper Temper Tempura!
Yes, another annoying thing.  Small in the overall scheme of life, yet one more affliction that one can really do without.
     To what do I refer?
     Prawn tails.

     I can't complain as I got these going cheap - no, let me rephrase that.  I can complain and I'm going to.  Whose idea was it to leave those horrid dry scratchy scaly shrimp tails on the shrimp?  I do not like them.  I do not eat them.  No human I know eats them.  The only creature that eats them in the Mansion is Edna the dog, and since she doesn't pay the grocery bill but I do, she doesn't get to vote.
     There will be some bleating baffoons who assert "They allow you to pick the tempura up with your fingers."
     Idiots!  Allow me -

     This is a FORK.  It allows you to pick up food and differentiates us from the beasts of the field.  A staple for 400 years, it makes the shrimp tail obsolete.



* Sorry about the emphasis, but I re-live the horror.
** I nicked this from PG Wodehouse

Skal!

"Cheers!" In Norwegian
Why?  Why not!  And, it's my blog, remember?
     We are here today to give a big hand to the Forsvarets Spesialkommando, those little-known Norwegian warriors who have inherited the Viking tradition of their forebears.  
     Well, actually that's a little imprecise.  
     Okay, a lot imprecise.
     Okay, okay, the "Viking" stuff is complete nonsense. These chaps are the land-forces arm of the Kingdom Of Norway's Special Forces.
     Surprise!  You didn't know it was a monarchy, did you?  
     Oh and that Special Forces stuff, either.  Unsurprising.  They didn't officially exist until 2000 A.D.  They have cropped up around the world in various conflicts, keeping a very low profile indeed.  They cross-train with the UK's Special Boat Service, in order to protect all those oil rigs out in the North Sea.

Hop, skip and jump

     As you can see, Norwegians are tall and handsome, and since Conrad is 1/16 Norwegian, it's obvious where his looks come from as well.  Given his age he probably can't fly over a fence like the chap above, but the spirit is there ...

First Bus
There is a saying - "There are lies, damned lies - and statistics".  Very true.  Conrad would like to amend this to: "There are lies, damned lies, statistics - and First Bus timetables."
     Allow me to present the evidence:

Note the upper right.  The upper right LIES!  LIES I TELL YOU!

     Conrad went out to catch the 409 with a good five minutes to spare.  The 20 minutes past bus did not turn up.  Nor did the 36 minutes past bus.  Nor the 51 minutes past bus.  Then two First Buses did turn up - both with "Sorry Not In Service", which went sailing past the bus stop.
     Grateful that it was a fantastically balmy day for the 1st of November, Conrad walked into Royton, getting passed by another "Sorry Not In Service" en route.
     I suggest that First amend their vehicular notation from "Public Service Vehicle" to merely "Vehicle", as their pamphlet above is clearly lying.  Lying through it's hideously-tinted teeth.
     Also, I feel another letter of complaint coming on.  First Bus admin staff, you have been warned!

"Piccadilly Jim" By P.G. Wodehouse
Really, given that Wonder Wifey got me these -

Propelling pencil with spare leads

     I should be creating a sketch-map of the plot of this novel.  It was written by Plum in 1917, although he has carefully excluded any mention of dates in the text, and although it begins in beautiful sunny Britain - with no mention of the First Unpleasantness - it rapidly transfers to New York.
     Let me recapitulate to see if my calcined brain is up to speed:  You have Jimmy Crocker, the "Piccadilly Jim" of the title, back in New York, pretending to be Jimmy Crocker, when people think he is the son of Bayliss the butler.  There is his dad, pretending to be Skinner the butler - I confess I've forgotten why this is happening - and there's the impostor Lord Wisbeach, not to mention Nesta Pett, who thinks Jimmy is plotting to either steal her son, the loathsome Ogden, or a new secret explosive that one of her proteges has invented.  She isn't wrong about Ogden being under threat, although that comes from the quarter of Ann and Jerry, although since Jerry has been sacked it now seems down to Ann.  And Jimmy, whom she hates, although having never met him in person -
     Does this make sense?  It gets more complex by the chapter.  Read this and never underestimate the calculated intellect of good old P.G.

"Where Eagles Dare"
Ahem, and also ahum.  I broke my alcohol fast last night and attempted to play the WED drinking game.  I only lasted 49 minutes and even then had to stop or would have been slumped comatose on the settee trying to make sense of Doctor Who.
     Although my Film Critic Film Pedant sense did survive the Old Golden Hen, thus I made notes about what did not make sense on screen.
     1)  The parachute drop into Austria - done in camouflage suits and camouflage parachutes from a camouflaged airplane, yet with BRIGHT SHINY METAL containers that could have been seen a mile away.

     2)  "The snow will cover him," said of the first dead character.  There is NO SNOW blowing around to cover anyone!  None!  No snow!

    3)  This is a high Alpine pasture, deserted from October to April.  Therefore, the captured American general cannot give away valuable D-Day data as it is still at least three months away, possibly even nine.

     4)  Trails in the snow.  I think we're seeing the marks left by crew as well as cast, and a more canny director or Director of Photography would have arranged to film from a different angle, hiding the evidence.

Look to the left, where the pristine untouched unsullied snow is - no longer virginal

     5)   "WERFEN" the railway sign, is written in Fraktur.  Despite what you may have seen, this (incredibly awkward!) handwriting/font/typeface was abandoned by Nazi Germany in 1941 as it had distinctly Jewish roots.

     That's all I've got so far, there will doubtless be more to come.

     Ha Det!
    ("Goodbye!" in Norwegian)

I Can Explain Everything, Officer

Spare A Thought For The Police On Halloween
Of course, this being BOOJUM! we won't go into the debate on our lovable blue-suited bruisers-bordering-on-blackshirtism, as that would be both Current Affairs and Police Politics - Policics, to coin a word.
     No, what Conrad refers to is the tendency for young people to get dressed up in costumes on Halloween and make-up that suggests they've been gutted with a set of serrated walrus tusks, then had their entrails extracted and disco-danced across the road and into the trees.

Entrails gazing at themselves.
It was too hard finding any that were disco dancing.  Sorry.

     Now, imagine the uproar and outrage that would ensue if the police came across a young person that this grim scenario had actually happened to, except they gave it a miss " - because it's Halloween, innit?"  So, they have to continually stop and address parties of young people who have imbibed a great deal of grain and grape, making sure that the cleaver buried in George's skull is made of tinfoil, and that the eye hanging out of Marcie's left socket is in fact a painted grape, and that the mysterious white powder in Tarquin's pocket is, indeed, sherbet.
     That's the police.  Next year we shall tackle hospital staff ...


Doctor Who: The Zygon Invasion
Well well well.  A bit blunt, that title, getting the issue out in the open straightaway, no shilly-shallying, eh?  This episode is about the Zygons, see, and they invade.  Got it?
     This is about a rebel faction of Zygons who want to come out into the open, resplendent in all their pizza-skinned glory, rather than skulk behind a human facade*.  Given that they are shape-shifters, and we didn't see what happened to Clara in that flat, of course Conrad realised she was One of Them.  This becomes glaringly obvious when she pumps Ms Stewart for information about Z67, a nerve-gas invented by Surgeon Lieutenant Harry Sullivan that turns Zygons inside out**.

A Zygote.  Close enough

     Kate Stewart hops off to Truth And Consequences (New Mexico) and the location looks quite convincing.  Why is she there?  I forget.  It's in the script.  Anyway, she's supposedly killed off by a last lone lurking Zygon.  Supposedly, as you don't actually see her get scragged, and remember what happened to Clara, and remember that two can play at pretending to be human - 

Case in point

     Meanwhile the Doctor zooms off to Turmezistan, which looks quite Welsh, as it's a hotspot of Zygon activity.  Not that Zygon activity has anything to do with being Welsh, although they are Celtic and the last but one lot turned up in Scotland.
     Sorry, rambling a bit.  Anyway, the UNIT troops sent to do in the Termezistan Zygons are a bunch of idiots, who willfully toddle to their deaths.  This was a phenomenon widely noted in the UK when UNIT first began; Commanding officers would offload the incompetent, the idiotic and the underdone amongst their troops by sending them to UNIT, and the same seems to have happened here.

UNIT's crack Prance Troop in training

     Then the pretend-Clara shoots down the airliner carrying the Doctor and Osgood, at which point Conrad realises that this is a TWO-PARTER!

I can wait

You What?
You know Conrad, he likes his music, and a fair amount of classical stuff, too.  Fluency in Dutch, however, is a little beyond him, so I wonder why on earth that this popped up on Facebook:

     I can puzzle out the beginning: "The residency of Bernard Hatink with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe is -" and then it goes one to mention elks, which I don't think are native to Holland.  Whelks, yes; large quadrupeds with antlers, no.

You What Part Two?
Another suggestion from the Foobs.  Behold!

"Introducing the Zeppelin Wireless"

     Eh?  Zeppelins went out with the ark.  Or was it the elk?  Not what you'd call contemporary or advanced.  Out of here with your primitive wireless!

From Holland To Norway Via Greece
Likke Til!  Which is Norwegian for "Good Luck!"  Firstly, may I present this photo:

"Norwegian Formula"

     If these people knew that Conrad was - obviously! - going to read the ingredients, they might not have bothered to call this stuff "Norwegian".

     As you can see, it's written in English and Greek - not Norwegian - and look at that list of ingredients.  What makes it Norwegian?  Unless any of these are the active ingredients of goose fat, herring oil or bear grease.





* Personally I'm all for human facades.  Mine is very high quality.  No chafing or rubbing.
** Although you'd have to beware if this happened on Halloween, eh?