Back With A Bigger Bang

I Almost Began With "Kerrang Kerrang"

Because it rhymes, if you must know.  You may be rolling your eyes now, just wait until later ...

     For Lo! we are returning to "Field Of Fire", that memoir by Jack Raab of his time spent as a gunner officer in the Second Unpleasantness, 50% of which is his either writing letters or gleefully receiving them.  Art!

     ???  Art, have you been at the nuclear fuel rods again?  Foolish entity, you know they give you both gas and hallucinations.  Sober up! <throws large rocks>

Jack's weapon of choice

     It was a portrait of Mister Spock by Frank Kelly Freas, if you must know.

     ANYWAY we are back to Jack's diary.  He writes on 12/08/1945 that "Japan has practically surrendered", which is probably connected with the dropping of the second atomic hoohoodilly on Nagasaki.  He adds in another comment that a radio broadcast mentioned that the atomic bomb's yield could be boosted 2,000 times, giving a nominal yield of 2,000,000 tons of TNT equivalent.  

Hmmmmmmmm.  No.

     The Teller-Ulam design for a thermonuclear warhead, which believe me can indeed reach a two megaton yield, didn't come out until the Fifties, so Your Humble Scribe strongly suspects that radio broadcast of Jack's was playing hard and fast with the truth.  In direct consequence of the news, he also adds that their "S.E.A.C." drafts had been ordered to stand down.  "S.E.A.C" stands for "South East Asia Command" which is where he and others were going to be sent after the end of hostilities in Europe, for a crack at the bally Japs.  After being in the army for six years neither he nor his fellow officers were champing at the bit to get dressed in jungle green and suffer getting shot at, again.

Jack's weapon of choice rendered a "Short" by the Ockers

     Jack makes dark prognostications about the future in light of these new breed of city-busting weapons: " I imagine this might easily start general disintegration and destroy mankind."  His next line, though, begins "Excellent party - " so he wasn't that fearful of things.

     Motley!  Time to play Grenade Snowball!

Bitten By The Coincidence Hydra - AGAIN

There I was, listening to "We Have Ways ..." (a podcast, lest you be unaware) as Jim and Al held forth on the relatively unsung work of RAF Coastal Command back in the Second Unpleasantness.  They skimmed over a few of CC's roles, and then Al mentioned the "Tsetse" variant of the Mosquito.  Art!

Ironic overprint

     Jim had never heard of it, and Al couldn't remember what the name of the monstrously large cannon was -

     "The Molins gun!" crowed Conrad*, for we have featured it on BOOJUM! once or twice.  In fact allow me to see if I can get a link - back shortly ...

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2018/02/biting-insects.html

     There you go.  Al cheated and looked it up on Google, but we knew about it already, so there.  From slightly over three years ago, so it may be new to readers out there.

More Of "O"

In this case, we come to the second novella from a book Conrad possessed a very long time ago, going by the title of "The Wonderful O", written by esteemed South Canadian wit James Thurber.  Art! 

     For reasons that remain obscure (a bet? a dare?) in this novel the letter "O" is forbidden, abolished and utterly discarded.  By a gang of pirates, I seem to recall, if that litre of gin at lunch hasn't addled my wits.  This leads to all sorts of problems, as in the case of one man who writes stories to read to his wife: his trenchant and poetic "Flamingo Stories" ends up as "Flaming Stries" and he gives up in disgust.  Your Modest Artisan also remembers that the letter O ends up getting revenge on the pirates, forcing them to try digging through rock known as "Oolite" or "Dogger". For some reason.  Be charitable, it's been at least forty years since I last read it.

Nightmare fuel!

     I am not tempted to buy it and revisit the prose, especially as there was one bafoon trying to flog the Searle-illustrated paperback for £112. Maybe when libraries open again.

Hark The Shark!

Yes, we are back to those Antipodean dwellers in the abyssal deeps, a couple of whom are named 'lanternsharks', so clearly somebody knew more than they were letting on.  Art!

     Firstly, NO! they are not radioactive mutant monsters out to munch mankind mercilessly.  They have evolved this bioluminescence as a defensive measure, as explained by a Belgian marine biologist.  If there are predators below them that are looking upwards, then they won't see an outline or shadow; instead they will see a faint illumination consistent with the dim sunlight that reaches the depths these finny wonders dwell at.  Thus predator swims on, fooled, and the lanternshark does a victory dance**.

  Don't forget - Sharks - still our friends! Yes, even weird and creepy ones from the briny deeps.  Show a little respect.

Sadly Not Badly

Usually by now Conrad is reading the Youtube rantings of Az over at "Heels vs Babyface" about the latest travesty that is "Batwoman", where he pretty much shreds it to bits - admittedly not very difficult - and gives the ratings figures.  Episode Seven would have gone out on Sunday in South Canada (only another five to go!).  HOWEVER Az very selfishly spent Sunday playing computer games, and none of my admittedly rapid Googling came up with any new reviews.  Perhaps there will be yet another drop in the ratings by Friday and some valiant blogger endured 44 minutes of hell to post up the numbers.

Bitwoman

Finally - 

No, you haven't seen many further comments on the "Official History of the Gallipoli Campaign Volume One" because it's on hiatus at the moment whilst I peruse "Armoured Guardsmen" by Robert Boscawan, and <checks> there's still 118 pages to go.  This is one of the batch of recent books ordered from a note made from the bibliography of a work by John Buckley, a dangerous precedent given the length of some 'bibs' (as I affectionately call them).  Art!

     An iconic and much-used photo.  That is Boscawan at port, standing up in the turret.  You will, of course, get the benefit of my considered opinions about the work, O my yes indeed.

     I think that's it, Vulnavia.  Done!

*  I enjoy a bit of pedantic valediction every now and then.

**  Okay, yes, I am guessing here.  Not a marine biologist.

The Bomb From Atom

Ha!  Do You See Wh - O You Do

You ought to know Conrad by now, never one to avoid wringing or squeezing the very last drop of creative content from anything.  This is because <long boring self-pitying screed redacted by Mister Hand and you're welcome!> Mabel Attwell.

     What we need now is a clickbaity picture that will entice the unwary, and Conrad has just the thing.  Art!

     Courtesy of Frank Kelly Freas.  Please note that this painting's bottom edge abruptly ends before it might venture into territory that the censor would object to, though some strategically-placed bubbles would -

     ANYWAY where were we? O yes - atomic bombs.  Conrad found it very interesting that artillery officer Jack Swaab - he of "Field Of Fire" memoir authorship - found time to comment in his diary about the atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  This was incredible news, as it meant neither he nor his fellow gunners would need to be sent out to the Far East, where an invasion of Japan loomed.  Art!

"The Competitive-Handshaking Champion works his magic." 

     It must have been big news, it seems to rank higher than the 4th Test at Lords, which is crickety stuff to all those unfamiliar with the terms.  Jackie Boy is pretty prescient in his predictions of chaos and strife attendant upon a world where the Bomb From Atom is a fixture: "It could be a great power for peace held by the right people but if it gets about the place I can see the world blowing itself to pieces in another 25 or 50 years."  Well, we're still here 75 years later, so we've either been doing some things right or not sufficient bad things wrongly.

Kim Jong Un

Fat Man

     In another expression of wartime rancour, one of Jack's gunnery crews states the howlingly un-Politically Correct decision that, if there were a button that when pressed would totally destroy Germany, he would happily press it.  Fortunately it has not come to this*.

     Wow, how dark and sinister we have been!  Motley, throw away the sackcloth and ashes and put on a happy smile!

Quite possibly the Motley smiling.

     Excuse me, the Dehumidifier's just been bleeping it's song of <thinks> swillingness, so I need to go empty it.  The Sekrit Layr sounds uncanny and odd without it's ever-present hum.

More Revisiting The Past

We travelled back in time to the mid-Seventies yesteryon, with Your Humble Scribe finally discovering the author of a novel he read about 45 years ago. Today we go still further back, to 1970, and a pair of novellas that go under the rather awkward title of "The 13 Clocks And The Wonderful O", by James Thurber.  Art!

     With illustrations by Ronald Searle.  Conrad remembered very little about the first tale, which features an evil aristocrat who duly gets his cum-uppance at the end.  He is pursued, and tackled, as Your Humble Scribe remembers it, by an hideous monstrosity known as "The Threlp", which finishes him off by gleeping.  "The Threlp gleeped" is apparently as dreadful an ending as coming across a Boojum all unawares.  Not mentioned in the Wiki article, however, so - could it have been a dream all along, and I'll wake up and be nine years old again**?  Then again, all I am sure about is the gleeping, and only 50/50 on that.

     We shall come back to this, because Conrad and the first line of today's blog.

The family photograph album: Conrad at 9

A Bit Of Gender-Swapping

Firstly, WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY SEWER-LIKE MINDS!  WITH CHLORINE TRIFLOURIDE YET!   <pauses until the red mist recedes>.  What Conrad means is the traditional Ruffian concept of "The Motherland" or "Za Rodina", also encapsulated as "Holy Mother Russia", which can be pictured thus - Art!

    There's no denying the Motherliness of that icon.  Whole regiments of Ruffians would plunge into battle in the Second Unpleasantness roaring "URRAH!  POBYEDA!  ZA RODINA!***" although they might have omitted that "H" in URRAH as there is no letter "H" in Ruffian.  The Sinisters very wisely allowed (if they had a choice) this shockingly non-Sinister expression of intent, because it was very hard to make people care about the Sinister ethos enough to die for it; whereas your average Ivan, stoked up on vodka and machorka, was quite willing to storm Berlin on behalf of Za Rodina.  Art!

Translation: "There are one million gallons of vodka being stored in Berlin."

     So that makes the following picture rather an oddity.  Art!

     "Defender of the Fatherland Day".  Hey what say what?  Where did that come from?  Is Tsar Putin trying to cover all bases by claiming all the parental authority there is?  Also, note the iconography at work here; these characters are all pre-gunpowder era and, surprisingly, make no mention of the Great Patriotic War (better known as "The Second Unpleasantness"), which would have been punishable by dismemberment during the Sinister era.  Then again, note that this display is in Vladivostok ("Prince of the East"), which is about as far as you can get from Moscow and still be within the boundaries of Ruffia.  Art!

     One gets the impression that Moscow's writ lies but lightly on this land.  You can also see how much of Russia is Siberia, how China - but that is a story for another day and a different kitchen.

Finally -

As you should surely know by now, Conrad likes to know about the derivation of words, because he is a curious character - yes yes yes ambiguous I know - with an inquisitive nature and a prehensile nose.  Thus we come across the South Canadian term "pratfall", which means to fall down directly onto one's buttocks.  Cue queries from the gallery about where the word "prat" comes from.  Do you know, the jury is still out on this one.  There is an entry in my Collins Concise that states 'prat' was known in the sixteenth century as slang for 'buttocks', but it cannot provide a source or a root word.  Nothing in my Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable <sad face> and - yes yes yes I could always resort to the internet <sighs and lowering himself so>

     Hmmmm, according to them, it comes from the Germanic "Prattuz" meaning 'Deceitful language' - which just about defines BOOJUM!

Go on! You were expecting that actor, weren't you?

     And with that we are done!

*  Our grandchildren may see this differently ...#

**  One emphatically hopes NOT.

***  "Hooray!  Victory!  For the Motherland!"

Danger! Madness Is Catching!

Or So It Seems

Our Modern Plague, Covid-19, has been - shall we say, "enhanced" - by those bizarre claims that it was caused by 5G transmission towers, an assertion utterly without any basis in reality, and a good social filter tool to reveal which of your friends are swivel-eyed loonwaffles.  Doesn't bother me, don't have any.

     

Loonwaffle magnet

     The vapid nonsense about this appears to have died down somewhat, although Conrad still expects to see flocks of peasants armed with torches and pitchforks, marching on transmission towers.  Because Viktor Frankenstein didn't die in vain! or something like that.  Art!

5G Transmission tower, early nineteenth century style

    The reason I bring this up is because the BBC - the font of all news that's fit to print - had an article today about how some bafoons are trying to use Magna Carta to wriggle their way out of conforming to virus legislation and rules.  Yes, that's right, they think that a piece of medieval legislature from 1215 is going to overturn the law in 2021.  This has resulted in their suffering fines of £10,000, which will kind of wipe out their operating profits once the rules allow opening.  Who could possibly have suspected that the entire legal system might have evolved over a period of 800 years!  Good lord, what about bear-baiting and the death penalty?  The legal - sorry, legal people - pseudo-legal claims these people made sound SUSPICIOUSLY similar to the garbage peddled by the South Canadian 'Freeman On The Land' movement.  Which, if you have never encountered it (lucky you!) is a bitshot lunatic conspiranoid collective that claim you can opt out of the law if you don't like it, thus not paying things like taxes.  Art!

If this is anything, 'truth' it is not

     An example of their bonkers philosophy.  It ought to be noted that none of these FOTL or "Sovereign Citizens" have ever won a legal case brought against them, as the ones in prison can attest.  In fact, South Canadian law enforcement regards the SCs as a species of domestic terrorist, so the Darwin Award effect might lead to a serious decline in their numbers.  Conrad predicts that none of these Magna Carta conspiranoids will win in court, either.  If you require open-heart surgery, you cannot resort to a Youtube video and an on-line tutorial; designing a skyscraper needs more than being good at Jenga and wicked Lego skills; likewise, if you need legal advice, a solicitor (or lawyer) is a better recourse than a 14-year old living in his parents basement, wearing a tinfoil hat and living in a Faraday cage*.

Bourj Khalifa 2 here I come!

Someone Is Being Silly Here

No, it's not me.  For once.  As you should surely know by now, Your Humble Scribe is constantly on the lookout for visual gags that can inform the blog, as we have seen with the "Dirty Deeds" beer -

     

Three of them technically Scottish.  Just FYI.

     ANYWAY if we can get back on topic.  Art!

     Hmmmm.  Yes.  Quite.  "Jam" not exactly what one imagines when thinking of a beer's name, is it?  Not sure where 'Mango' comes in, either.  Mango-jam flavoured beer?  I bought the stuff so it will get used, either savoured slowly or necked desperately quickly so the whole experience is over rapidly.

Thank You, Internet

Many, many years ago, in a galax - when Your Humble Scribe was younger yet still as handsome, he remembered reading a novel about the Second Unpleasantness, which was rather realistically rendered, not consisting of endless blood and thunder, but rather about a radar-equipped Wellington bomber crew.  It was set on Malta during the absolute fervid crux of the Axis aerial assault, and said crew had an un-glamourous yet crucial role.  It was called "The Gun Garden".  Could I remember the author?  No, or this would be a very short item.

     So, Conrad has had to wait until the internet develops, and becomes mature, before he can carry out a search for said title.  Art!

     I am a patient man, and thus we have a result after 45 years <does air punch in vindication>.  The downside of this, of course - obviously! - is that Conrad may have to buy it again to re-read and decide if it's genuinely as engaging as it was way back when.  Abebooks here we come**.

You Must Remember This

Don't worry, no horrid puns about "Casablanca" here.  No, I refer to that recent discovery about how my battery-powered headphones were still functional, hooray!  If we cattle-prod Art hard enough -

     Well, they have an "On/Off" switch, and if you forget to turn it to "Off" when you're not listening - why, the batteries drain to nil and they won't work!  They are the cheapest, nastiest, most generic batteries available, so I may indulge in some more expensive ones on the Wednesday shop.  Thank you for paying attention and that is all.  

Three Actors For The Price Of One

You may recall that Conrad has focussed recently on that Scottish character actor Andrew Keir, who had a long and fascinating backstory all of his own.  He was a large, physically imposing chap, who had started out life as a miner, when a minor.  That is, he began mining when aged fourteen.  Doubtless strenuous physical exercise at that age helped him become large and imposing - 

Carrying a big bundook doesn't hurt either

     ANYWAY when he was in theatre, in Glasgow - this is important shortly - he was in a troupe that also included fellow character actors Fulton Mackay, whom you will know from "Porridge", and one wonders what a Glaswegian thought about that noble foodstuff being used as a sitcom title***. Art!

Fult

     Also present in the same troupe was actress Phyllida Law, whom some may recognise as the mother of Emma Thompson.  Art!

Rather scrummy in her day

     As part of the same troupe, Andrew and Fulton took it upon themselves to escort young Phyllida to the local tramstop after work.  Not because they were trying to pursue her - WASH OUT YOUR DIRTY MINDS! - but because her role required her to speak with an English accent.  This is Glasgow after dark in the Fifties; anyone speaking with an English accent would be lucky to see the dawn.

Nyree Dawn Porter.  Close enough.

     So tomorrow, tune in on the same Rat-Channel to the same Rat-Broadcast, Rat-fans!  

     Hang on, did that sound right?  Wait a minute, have I been hitting the wrong key on the laptop 

*  He is kind to his cat, so don't be too judgemental.

**  Don't tell Wonder Wifey.

***  Conrad eats a bowl every day.  No salt or <shudders in absolute unmitigated horror> sugar.

Our Weekly Wappenmoot

I Say That Yet Am Not Entirely Sure What It Is

Maybe Tolkein-ish, methinks.  Anglo-Saxon?  There used to be a "wapentake" which was a legal division between shires in the North of This Sceptred Isle.  I dunno, perhaps I'm making it all up.  What do we think?

     Ah - sorry - didn't realise you chaps were busy.  I'll just leave quietly.

    Anyway, lets get this domesticated wolf and very small horse show on the road!

2020

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2020/03/attack-of-killer-potato.html

2019

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2019/03/this-is-me-cheating.html

(This actually another set of links to old posts)

2018

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-man-with-golden-pun.html

2017

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2017/03/middle-age-and-murder.html

2016

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2016/03/tree-hee.html

From 06/03/2016 as there wasn't a post on Monday 07/03/2016

2015

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2015/03/oh-where-to-start.html

2014

https://comsatangel2002.blogspot.com/2014/03/oh-dilemma.html

    That's it.  No more.  All done.  Go away now!

It's A Dog's Life

Which Is, When You Pause To Parse -

A tad ambiguous.  Generally it's perceived as meaning to be treated in an exceedingly bad manner, as in a much-abused dog, in which case Hello RSPCA?  Then again, it can also mean: we are talking about the risk to existence of a particular domesticated wolf!  See what I mean?  Ambiguous.

     Now, let us abruptly change tack and refer back to that classic documentary series "The World At War", because Your Humble Scribe was rewatching one of the Extras.  Art!

    This is an aside: RAF Bristol Blenheim (I think) torpedo and iron bombers attacking a Teuton shipping convoy.  You can see how insanely low they fly, because the splash in the first one from it's dropped torpedo is higher than the plane!

     Er - which schoolboy excitement is actually the complete opposite of this Intro's theme, which was generally how the "Warriors" Extra truly showed the squalor and horror of the battlefield in no uncertain terms, and would be a splendid corrective to those chickenhawk politicians who bang the lectern and promise war, and whom then go hide in a bunker one hundred metres underground*.

The same as above?

     It was an illustration of how thoroughly horrid Hom. Sap. can be to each other (and if you think that's bad, wait until aliens).  So, I am quite delighted to be able to post a picture that balances the moral scales a little.  Art!

     Well there you go, a touching tale indeed.  Conrad wonders what happened to the thieves?  Were they the ones in West Virginia?  Did they simply sell the dog on to owners desperate for dog?

    Aha.  It turns out the dog, along with the owner's wallet, and anything else portable, was stolen by a 'family friend', who was arrested a couple of months later, with Zeus in tow.

     Well, I think that encompasses about enough highs and lows for one Intro.  Motley, have some ice cream**.

Dogpiling On

Ha!  Do you see - O you do.  Conrad now has an excuse to put up a photograph he took from that never-ending source of schadenfreude, the BBC Sports pages "Have Your Say" comments section. Art!

     As you can see from the date, 13th February, I've been waiting for an excuse to use this one for a few weeks now.  The Comments total is a bit hard to read on here, so I shall clarify and put up "3137".  This is, pretty obviously, an enormous number and when Conrad scrolled through it nearly all the commentators were - well, gloating, frankly.  They trolled and mocked and insulted the Liverpool team and especially their fans, who (I am taking this on trust) were extremely arrogant when they won the Rice Pudding Cup***.   As ye sow, and various other Biblical shizzle.

     

     There were also allegations that the only reason they won the Rice Pudding Cup was because a ballfoot player called "Salah" continually 'dived' in order to get penalties.  'Diving', if you are unfamiliar with this technical term, means pretending to be fouled by throwing yourself to the ground, howling in agony, clutching desperately at your shin recovering from this near-mortal blow within seconds.  If this is true then Salah could have a career on the stage once his ballfoot days are over.  Then there's VAR - "Video Assisted Referee" - which is enough technobabble for one day.


What On Earth, Or Even Off It

As you know, Your Humble Scribe occasionally ends up in strange corners of the internet, usually because he Googles a picture and generates a lot of strange images that link to stranger sites (and sights).  Thus it is that I came across these paintings.  Art!

     Beyond that there's been an alien invasion, it's unclear what's going on here.  As the page titled itself, this is an alien invasion that has seemingly gone badly wrong.  Who has won or lost remains to be seen.  The artist is one Simon Stalenhag.  There are 10 pictures in total and I'll put the others up in no particular date order.  Weirdness ahoy!

     Excuse me, I need to go dump some rubbish and render the Sekrit Layr more like a room and less like a midden.  Back in five -

Guess Where?

Of course it's a trick question!  When have either BOOJUM! or Conrad ever been straightforward when there was an opportunity to be devious?  Art!

     Of course, given recent events on Mars, and Conrad's interest in astronomy, you could be forgiven for immediately responding with "Mars!  Viewed via the Perseverance rover!" which is understandable and completely WRONG.

     For one thing, if you were standing at the spot shown on screen, you could breathe freely, instead of immediately asphyxiating.  You would feel incredibly hot, rather than instantly freezing to death in temperatures so low they would make even Siberians shudder.
     It's not Mars.  It's the Western Desert, pictured in 1973, near a railway halt called "El Alamein", which is where three crucial battles were waged in 1942.

     However - I have mentioned this before - one of the desert's old hands, Ralph Bagnold, who helped found the Long Range Desert Group and whom was immensely experienced in desert exploration, was invited to lecture to N.A.S.A. about desert terrain and travel, as a background to what they could expect on Mars.

Ralph, looking fearfully hard.  No water for shaving, you see

     So you're still wrong, just a bit less wrong than you were before.

Finally -

Conrad wanted to end on a note of typical human stupidity, and came across some Darwin Award entries he'd not read before.  So - there is apparently a subculture across the pond in South Canada where people (usually men) meet up to carry out highly illegal races on the streets, in their own heavily modified vehicles; not un-naturally this sport is known as "Street Racing" and I believe it's how the now-ridiculous "Fast And Furious" franchise began.

     Thus we have Kyle and Anonymous Driver, belting down the road at 150 miles per hour in AD's <ahem> street machine.  "Why are oncoming drivers flashing us?" they wonder.

     "Because you're on fire" is the answer.

Before

     The vehicle begins to fill with smoke.  AD announces that - their brakes have gone.  The emergency brake won't work.  The engine has switched itself off.  They are still travelling downhill.  This pleasant joyride continues for three minutes until they reach level ground and the car rolls to a stop, whereupon they both leap out.

  Art!

During

    Neither were harmed, and there is a Youtube video covering the whole thing over 12 minutes, from where the shot above comes.  AD did not have a fire extinguisher <why bother?> and the whole car was reduced to an ashy shell.  Art!

      No word of whether they got into legal trouble for any of this.  O well, having £45,000 of car reduced to scrap worth £4.83 is probably punishment enough.

     And with that, Vulnavia, we are done!

*  Naming no names.

**  Stinging nettle and turnip flavour

***  Or something.  I'm not a ballfoot fan and don't pretend to know or care about these things.