Space, Time And Skladniki

"Skladniki"
It sounds like a race of peculiarly vicious and evil aliens from Doctor Who, doesn't it?
     "The ruthless and relentless Skladniki closed in on Number Ten, their blasters annihilating all who got in their way, until, cackling with evil delight, they vapourised the entire Cabinet into a haze of dust particles -"
     Yes, yes, I have blatantly and obviously - obviously! - violated BOOJUM!'s rules about politics, although in my defence if this is Doctor Who we could be talking about the Cabinet of 1928, rather than that of the modern day, which I bet a few of you would be crossing your fingers over.
     Be that as it may, let us proceed to the truth.  No, Skladniki are not hideous* monsters with green warty skin, poison fangs and a prediliction for attractive young underclad men**.  It's actually Polish.

Skladniki, surely?  Grimy fellers. Lack of spit and - er - polish.

     "What?  Those chaps who fought at the Siege of Tobruk in the Second Unpleasantness?" you ask.  "And who stormed Monte Cassino?"
     Yes, that's the -
     "And who invented the closest thing to a liquid Weapon of Mass Destruction, "Polish Pure Spirit?" "
     Yes.  Can I -
     "Which is good in mixers and for cleaning the heads on recording-"
     EXCUSE ME!  Can I have my blog back?  Thank you. Thank you loads.
     I think that's enough for this Intro.  Let the motley begin!

Polo.  Not Just Polo, Prince Polo!
I'm not sure if I've told you how Conrad likes Polish cuisine. At least the variety you find on supermarket shelves under the "Polski Sklep" section.  It used to be a bit of a chore to find pickled peppers until our East European brethren arrived here in numbers.  Now you can get all sorts, including the interestingly titled "Prince Polo".
     

It's a classic, apparently.
I think the "XXL" is a dig at Conrad's sheer size.

     Conrad bought this despite knowing nothing about it.  He did take a photo of the ingredients list on the back, which might very well serve as inspiration for the blog for a couple of weeks, viz:

"Skladniki" - second down on the left

     "Amonu", "Skrobia" - again, they sound like aliens from Doctor Who, even though they're probably only emulsifying agents or an anti-caking powder.
     Now, what is Prince Polo when you get down to it?  Actually not something that Conrad would have bought if the wrapper had been transparent:

Chocolate wafer, you see.

     I do like the Polish air of superiority, though.  This isn't a mere Polo - probably because Nestle already have a copyright on that - it's NOBILITY!

It's Been A Long Time Jack, Welcome Back***
If you have any Tragic Violin Soundtracks, now is the time to play them.  Conrad, after being made redundant back in <cough cough>, had to apply for many positions before getting an interview, which is a long and tedious process indeed.
     "So what?" I can hear you ask, which is shockingly impolite.  Don't forget I know who your ISP is and what you've been searching for on the Internet  -
     "Tell us more!" I hear you request.
     Well, one of the things I had playing in the background was "Samurai Jack".

Jack and his foe, Aku

     This was a corking animated series about Jack, a noble and principled samurai warrior who was sent thousands of years into the future.  He fought the minions of Aku, who always turned out to be robots, meaning that the bodycount could be both 1)  Enormous and 2) Bloodless.
     However, old Gennady Tarkovsky, the creator, didn't manage to finish the story.  Jack is still stranded in the future, or at least he was until I read the above.
     All twenty four fingers and toes crossed!

Yes, Yes, I'm Getting Around To That
I did mention about Space and Time in the title.  
     WRONG!  This isn't about Doctor Who.  Ha!  I do like to mix it up now and then.
     No, this is about that group that Conrad loves to bits, The Mars Volta, who might be described as "Bonkers mathcore prog-metal".  Of late I have been playing "The Bedlam in Goliath" which has the bonus of a morning of preventing people from sitting next to me.
     One line from "Cavalettas" did take my fancy, as I've wondered and pondered about it before:

"It's just a matter of folding space and time."

     Excuse me?  "Just"  "Just" a matter of something that has eluded the grasp of human science and technology for the - sorry?  Oh. Apparently Art has some input here:

     Er, quite.  Folding.  Space and time.
     Conrad - get your hair washed you scruffy rascal!

"The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors Even"
NO!  Put your tongues back in, you sewer-minded rascals.  Conrad refers to Art-
     NO!  Not Art Department, that coal-chewing sloven who lives in the septic sump here at the Mansion and who is responsible for producing the blog's artwork.  Capital letters Art.  You know, painting and sculpture and high-concept shizzle like that.

Marcel Duchamp's masterpiece

     This is an artwork done on glass, that suffered extensive accidental cracking, as you can see.  I bring this up to underline a point about the phones of the young folk at work.  Behold!

     Unfortunately for Conrad, Alex had replaced her previously shattered phone.  But there you go.

Time to pack it in and pimp, promote and promulgate the blog because it is but 14 minutes until Doctor Who.  What?  Were you expecting, perhaps, the Badger Parade^?


* OH ALL RIGHT!  "Differently appearanced".  Satisfied?
** BOOJUM!  Turning sci-fi stereotypes on their heads.
*** Yes, this is a line from The Chameleon's song "Souls In Isolation"
^ Sorry, rained off.

Attack Of The Killer Potatoes

Yes, You Read That Right
Many years ago, Conrad wrote a rather daft but serious-toned story with the above title.  You may, or may not, be aware of the kitsch classic fillum "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" which is where the title comes from.
     Briefly put, a Hungarian biological research centre gets 100 times their normal annual funding due to an administrative error.  Rather than send the surplus back, they squander as much of it as they can, as quickly as they can, on any research projects that have ever been submitted to them.  Luminous grass, anyone?  Self-cooking mushrooms?  Toxic, self-seeding, herbicide-resistant, incredibly fertile, avoided-by-insect potatoes?  The latter  - called, IIRC, the "Great Alford" - rapidly spreads across the globe, killing off local crops, animals and unwary humans.

Hmmm.  A bigger genre than I realised

     "Ha!" I can hear you say.  "Thank you for a glimpse into the creative process of Conrad all those years ago."  Followed by an acid "So what?"
     Well my close acquaintance Sophie* has posted this morning about Googling for leftover mash recipes, only to get the message "Sorry, we've had to block actions from your area because of suspicious activity.  Please try again later."
      I think you can see where this is leading.  Conrad used to regularly feature tanks on the blog, not to mention nuclear weapons, missile silos, Manouvreable Re-entry Vehicles, and - on several occasions, which makes me shudder in retrospect - atom-bombing the Moon.  On a whim**.  These are all far more sinister than a potato, or even many potatoes, which leads me to wonder if that anonymous white van parked outside is really - but no, that would be entirely too paranoid, wouldn't it***?

The Anonymous White Van through the curtains.  I ain't getting into the open to take pictures!

Smoke Fairies
In case you don't know, this is a band.  Formed around two young ladies who play those unlady-like eelectrick geetars.  Art?

There they are.  Lots of stage presence.  And legs

     Conrad saw them earlier in the year when they were the support act for Public Service Broadcasting, and they came across as a lot harder than their "Dream-pop" classification.
     Anyway, girls, and the rest of the band, I have been to gigs at the Soup Kitchen and must caution you that the basement is an utter pit.  It reeks of damp and has the architectural ambience of the Berlin Bunker after the Red Army had been through it.  Also, the basement toilets are the worst I have ever been in.  Bring your own Portaloo.

Proof That Everything Is Linked To Everything Else
I mentioned PSB above, and what did I encounter on Facebook?  No!  Not a Suggested Post about log-counting software.  This -

PSB.

      - and the Smoke Fairies sing on the "Tereschkova" track on "The Race for Space".

O! The Irony
I know you're probably not keen on Conrad's social life, as it's rarely as much fun to read of another's enjoyment as it is to be doing it in the first place.
     Nevertheless!  Conrad was out on the work's Christmas do last night, which you will read about at length^, and was thus unable to post anything that evening.
     Being either duplicitous or conscientious, the choice is yours, he got up early to create a blog post consisting of the blog posts from 4th December 2013 and 2014.

It's - it's - 63 hits!

     And this is the result!  Not posting anything original results in one of the blog's highest hit rates.
     I dunno.  If only I could figure out where I was going right.

You What?
Perhaps I can understand why the Foobs proposed the below advert as one that your gifted author might like.  After all, there is considerable overlap between wargamers and log-counting software, isn't there, and you'd need log-counting software to tally how many tree trunks your freight car is handling, won't you?

Hornby Model Railways.

     Perhaps they should have chosen a different video.  Conrad, looking at this one, is minded of that Vic & Bob sketch where they skit "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay", going on about how repetitive and boring such an occupation is.
     You can say much the same for the rail arrangement above.  The train leaves the shed, then it goes round the track, then it goes back to the shed.  For variety it sometimes goes round the track, goes back to the shed, then goes round the track.  Being utterly anarchic - more so than killer potatoes - very occasionally it reverses round the track.


* No, no, not that Sophie, this Sophie
** The Moon's big.  It can take it.
*** Entirely too paranoid, yes, right, correct, no mistake - or would it?
^ O believe me yes.  Yes indeed.

Retrospecial

Or, Cheating
Since I am out tonight, not to return until the small hours, no new stuff, I'm afraid.
     However, I will resort to that old standby, posting the posts from this day in 2014 and 2013.  So you can see how BOOJUM! has evolved over time.

2013

What's A Human To Do?
     During my drive home to and from work I tend to mull things over.  I can think and drive at the same time, you see.  This morning I was pondering what to put in the blog.  I even canvassed Darling Daughter.

Sally ready for some "mindless self indulgence".  A pop group, apparently.

     'Most people who write blogs post about what happened in their day,' she advised.
     No!  People do not want to hear about deadlines and targets and Service Level Agreements and where all the teaspoons went*.
     Instead we have -

"Inchoate"
     As part of the rounded induction that BOOJUM! offers all readers, let us examine this word.
     Obviously it refers to a tribe of Amazonian Indians, who inhabit the upper headwaters of that mighty river, and who subsist on a diet of fish and monkeys.  Oh, and yams**.
     What's that?  It's not?  It means "rudimentary" or "a process only just begun".  Bah!

What Inchoate ought to be ...

What Cake To Make?
     Another critical decision that needs making.  On Friday I shall be going to the Christmas dinner at Pizza Express, so I shall need to do the shopping tomorrow before the Pub Quiz, so I have to bake tonight.
     I have decided that the recipe will be - Bannoffee Whoopee Pies. 
     No, I have no idea why they're called "Pies", as they are two pieces of cake held together with creamy filling.  Nor do I know where the "Whoopee" comes in - oh no actually I do - that will be the ganterpies at work spotting them and hovering like helicopter gunships.

Positively gleeful!

 And on that note Conrad needs to get going.

* Yes, they all vanished.  Again.
**  Just testing.  There was only one asterisk.

2014

Oh Aye Indeed!

But first, let me bore you with the minutiae of my daily battle with Hermes.  No problems on the way into work this morning, the trouble started on the way home.  The 24 bus didn't bother to put in an appearance, so the 182 was absolutely rammed.

     What's that?  Wait for the next 24 because the 182 goes a roundabout way and is slow?

     <Conrad sticks a finger in his eye to stop his hysterical laughter>

     Fools!  You make the classical mistake of expecting the next First bus to actually arrive! And be on time.

     A touch of the Dunkirk spirit prevailed and people commiserated with each other and condemned First* Bus.

     Anyway, here you are:

I knew I'd find a use for that calculator keypad

     A painting, next to some numbers.  Thanks to Carol for the inspiration

Get Out Of Here WIth Your Deinosuchus**!

Since the source of this acronym is lost in the mists of time, and also Conrad's erratic memory, I have decided to provide a definitive version.

What Is A Deniosuchus, And Do You Drink, Smoke It Or Play It?

Conrad warns against approaching a deinosuchus, although the probability of you ever meeting one is pretty much zero, as they are an extinct species of prehistoric alligator.  They were - what's the word?  oh yes - ENORMOUS!

Dinner has arrived

     That's Deino about to dine off a T Rex, to give you a bit of scale.

     Oh, and the name means "Terrible Crocodile".

Doctor Who Monsters Part 4

No, sorry, not the Lesser-Known Not-Crap Monster article I came up with a short while ago.  No, this is about that single bright shining moment of my day - No!  Not when I cast off my human disguise!  When I open up my Doctor Who Advent Calendar.

     Who (or what) did we get today?

Today, a bandy little orange chap

     This is a Zygon, or, as Wonder Wifey christened them, "Pizza Monsters" as they do indeed resemble the world's worst case of acne ever.  Since the one above is rather small and the detail doesn't stand out, can the Art Department -

 - Ah, thanks

     There is a classic line in the original serial "Terror of the Zygons" when Brontar sees the Doctor apparently lying dead:

"He underestimated the powers of organic crystallography"

     Not often a scriptwriter gets to use the words "organic" and "crystallography" in the same sentence.

Orion.  No, Not That Project Orion***

This concerns the test shot of the Orion spacecraft, in order to - well, test it.  To see if it flies and, if so, how well.  It is expected to get people to Mars - I volunteer every single--named celebrity that features in The Metro as long as they stay there.

     Anyway, the flight has been postponed.  Fingers crossed it doesn't go the way of the last Space-X mission, which had to self-destruct.

O Right-on Orion

Fort Dologorodoc

This post is simply because I like the name, and is probably the only word in the world that has 5 "O"s in it.  It was a fortified^ position in the highlands of Italian East Africa, scene of a protracted and bloody battle during late 1941.

Hard Rock Fort Dologorodoc

That's all for tonight.  Pub Quiz in half an hour.  Also, thanks to Glamourous Understudy Sophie^^ who volunteered to bring in gingerbread so that Conrad has a night off from baking.

Wait - what's that sound? OH NO! The Zygons are attacking!  Save yourselves -

Easily confused.

 - whoops, sorry, no, it's just Dominoes delivering.

* Do you see the hilarious irony present in this name and concept?

** Come on, the acronym "GOOHWYD".  Do keep up!

*** Work in-joke.  No, I shan't explain it.

^ But of course.  There is a clue in the name.

^^ No, not that Sophie, this Sophie.

An Elle Of A Time

I Can Tell What You're Thinking -
"Conrad's lost the plot - he's mis-spelt that!"
     Thank you but no.  Conrad, North West England's leading contender for the title of Spelling And Grammar Nazi, does not make mistakes like that.
     No, that title sees the fruition of a long-gestating plan to create a sight gag out of print media.
     Behold!

     Okay, it may be a bit slight, but it does work, doesn't it?

Signal To Noise
This has declined noticeably in the office this week, as that Scouser scamp Stephen has returned from disporting himself across Thailand.  He and Alex no sooner noticed this -

The advent calendar, of course.

     - than they were squabbling like a pair of primary schoolchildren about who got to open Day 3 and eat the chocolate behind it.  For the record, it was Alex.  Further to the record, the chocolate was in the shape of two penguins.   Because one inevitably associates flightless swimming birds with Christmas.
     Conrad also persuaded Catherine to take the photo below:

Conrad, looking stern.
And rather jowly.

     I explained it was for a sight gag - "I'm really out of touch.  I'm - get this - behind the times.*"
     This led to Stephen's comment, which might be a compliment or a criticism, depending on your viewpoint:  "Rob**, I'd like to spend a day in your head.  I'm sure I'd come out baffled."

I'm posting late tonight as, thanks to First Bus I didn't get home until 6:50, after leaving the office at 5:00.  Once again the 24 didn't turn up, despite an inspector telling me that it was only 5 minutes away.  I feel another letter to them coming on; I shall have to let the venom brew in my mind for a couple of days before writing.
     Then I had to go vote - Conrad takes his civic duties seriously, dear audience - and then do the shopping.  So I only started this typing at 9:00, which means I've still got to seek out a suit I can still squeeze my fat carcass into.
     Thus - and anyone from work will curse me for taking so long to get to the point - no baking tonight*.

"Mary Poppins"
NO!  Conrad hates all musicals and he has been experiencing far too many visions of bus posters advertising this farrago.  How much does it cost to get in? Fine, I'll pay twice as much to stay out.
     The only two musicals I will watch are "The Blues Brothers" and "The Return Of Captain Invincible", the first because they destroy all the cars in America, the second because it's a good-natured spoof of Superman.

Showing this means - no Poppins

The Metro As Rag
One of the consistent themes of BOOJUM! is a relentless hammering of that tree-killing comic The Metro.  Today featured Kate Winslet on the cover, stating that she had no "gender agenda".  This is what passes for wit at The Metro, and whilst you may fairly condemn Conrad for being just as witless, you get all this free and gratis.  Without adverts.

Although you do get scary faces like this quite a lot

     Anyway, I've decided that the Metro is quite acceptable as a rag, since when it becomes a proper newspaper, that is because ghastly things are going on in the world.  Yes, Victoria, more ghastly than having to pay 5p for a carrier bag.

"Debility"
Tom, which is to say Quiet Tom, the one who silently gets on with work instead of squealing girlishly and playing Candy Crush Saga on his mobile, expostulated earlier this week about this word, which he was unfamiliar with.
     'Surely you've heard of a debilitating condition?' immediately countered your humble scribe.
    'Yes, but-' continued Tom, still cross that this word had dared emerge into daylight and defy him and his intellect***.
     It is obviously from Latin: "Debilis" which means "weak".  That became "Debilitas" which morphed into "Debilite" in Old French.
     I can grant Tom a little leeway here, as it's a word rather out of use.  You can imagine a Medical Officer in the British Army of the First Unpleasantness using it in a diagnosis:  "I concur with the diagnosis that this chap is suffering from acute nervous debility," followed by a tot of rum.

The Livens Projector
Sounds like an avant garde jazz-rock ensemble from Canterbury, eh?
     NO!  It was actually a one-shot large calibre mortar that Captain Livens invented in the First Unpleasantness.  Very basic, so easy to create and use in large numbers.

Ergo

     The reason I write of it is because Rob Morgan wrote about them in his Rearguard article for The Journal.  Rob concentrated on their delivery of gas, although they were also used to deliver high explosive, thermite and oily rags.
     They were used not singly or by the dozen but by the hundreds or thousands, and their ability to deliver a very large amount of gas on target with minimal warning caused a fair bit of nervous debility amongst the Germans.  Perfidious Albion used to dig them in behind higher ground, so the tell-tale flash of firing them was hidden.

The Hun will get given
A whole lot of Liven

* Sorry
** My human colleagues frequently call me this.  The fools!
*** These two things usually go together, but not always.