Flaming Stries!

Work With Me On This, It'll All Make Sense Eventually

Either that or it won't, we shall see.  Okay!  Today's title comes from a novella by James Thurber, the South Canadian humourist and cartoonist, called "The Wonderful O", which - O and by the way WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY MINDS! - is about a world where the letter 'O' has been forbidden, or abolished, or stolen.  I forget the exact details, it's about forty years since I read it.  Art!

     One of the consequences of this heinous act - I mean, can you get your mouth around "Cnrad" or "Rbert Cnnlly"? - is that one character has enjoyed writing stories which he read to his wife, only to find that "Flamingo Stories" had reverted to today's title, and gave up in disgust.

     Here an aside.  Conrad distinctly remembers at story's end the main villains, who might very well be pirates, are trying to dig for victory for <insert reason here> but are thwarted by geology with an "O" in it, namely rock formations called 'Oolite', which up until now I have never checked out.  Let us do so. Art!

Oolite in yer sight

     Mister Thurber said it had an alternate name, "Dogger" ONCE AGAIN WASH OUT YOUR DISGUSTING GUTTERPHOBIC MINDS! - which if Art has a very careful look on teh Interwebz - 

A lump of dogger

     Right, now we've got the geology out of the way, let us abruptly change track and revert to "Biggles In The Blue" which is Opus 45 of the Biggles canon, just in case you were wondering.  And even if you weren't.  Art!

    Yesteryon you would have seen Conrad gibbering with glee as he found a free internet text of this work, and he's already at page 58.

     If you don't want to experience SPOILERS I suggest you skip this Intro and carry on further down.

     The thing is, Biggles and Co. are trying to track down a cache of documents hidden by a fleeing Nazi war criminal, which have blueprints AND EXPERIMENTAL DATA for Teuton wonder-waffen up to the V18*.  Air Commodore Raymond, Biggles' boss, warns him that destroying these documents is far more preferable to the Sinisters getting their grubby sweaty paws on them.  This cache is hidden on a Caribbean island, and their only clue is that it has a population of flamingos upon it.  Said Nazi war criminal kindly fetched one of their eggs back for his neighbour, you see.  Art!

Additional text in German, which seems appropriate

     This island is home to a major colony of flamingos, or at least it was.  Art!

Yup, still is

     Our heroes have a crude and un-scaled tracing of an island outline as a location, so they know it's not Grand Inagua.  There are, however, thousands upon thousands of islands and islets and cays across the Caribbean, so - very much needle in a haystack time.

     There.  Did that make sense?  I hope it did because I'm done with it.

Ah, Michael, Did You Think I'd Forgotten You?

Michael Stipe, that is, vocalist of R.E.M and who may make an appearance towards the end of "World War Z" the novel, it's deliberately left unclear if

     ANYWAY we never carried on with the Little Musical Critique of their song "Catapult" so it behoves me to lay on again, MacDuff.

We were little boys, we were little girls

Which?  Which!  Make your mind up!

It's nine o'clock, don't try to turn it off

Nine ante meridian or post meridian?  DEFINE YOURSELF!

Cowered in a hole, ope your mouth

Unwise, the mud might get in

We in step, in hand, your mother remembers this

How do you know?  I mean, she's got to be getting a bit long in the tooth, nicht wahr?

Hear the howl of the rope, a question

Yes, my question is HOW THE DOG BUNS CAN ROPE HOWL!

Did we miss anything, did we miss anything

Did we miss anything, did we miss anything

Yes, a sense of sanity and logic, I feel

Catapult (catapult), catapult

Catapult (catapult), catapult

Ah - you're cowering in a hole because of being pelted by catapults?

You know, I fear Michael is not happy with me

Conrad Mocks The Coincidence Hydra

Thanks to my armour-plated underwear.  My nethers have never been nicer nor less nibblesome, my only worry being that the Hydra might invest in diamond-tipped teeth.  Shouldn't think so, it only gets paid National Minimum Wage.  Art!

     From the latest edition of "Empire".  Yes well, it was only on 19/06/2022 that Your Humble Scribe was making a tangential and obscure point by mentioning "Billion Dollar Brain" on BOOJUM! and if you doubt my veracity, here's the link:

BOOJUM!: O Pernicious Muse! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

Back To Libya

Forwhy, we have more of "The Sea Of Sand" to regale you with.  You ought to recall that The Doctor and Sarah are cooped up in a rather pungent tent as a sandstorm rages outside.  February 1941, since you ask.

‘What’s the “Army Royal Servicers Core”?’ asked Sarah with an air of  apparent genuine interest.  The genuine interest was actually genuine interest, her not having ever come across the term before.

          Llewellyn finished his own mug of tea.

          ‘Ah, therein lies a tail.  The RASC delivers supplies to the army in the field.’  Seeing the disappointment on his listener’s face, he carried on to enlarge on his statement.  ‘This is North Africa, Miss Smith.  There’s nothing out here but the desert.  Everything we need has to be brought in from overseas.  Not just men and their equipment but basic things like food and water.’

          The Doctor mentally underlined the officer’s phrase; there was nothing out here that the Time Lords would want inspected or investigated.  Nothing!

          Sarah nodded encouragingly, feeling like a reporter egging-on a source for vital information.  The officer continued.

          ‘There’s no trees, so you can’t burn wood for fuel or chop them down for building anything.  There’s no livestock or cultivated land or even wild berries growing.  No towns or cities where you could buy supplies.  Just desert.  So anything we do out here depends on supplies.  And the RASC delivers the supplies.’

          Privately, Sarah considered anyone who wanted to fight here to be irredeemably insane. Merely existing seemed difficult enough.

     O I dunno.  It takes a while but you get acclimatised and only sweat out a single pint per day instead of three or four.

More Of Them Books

If you recall, the BBC listed a whole passel of books that have been published during HM The Queen's reign STAND UP FOR THE QUEEN!  ESPECIALLY YOU REPUBLICANS! by Commonwealth authors, split up into decades.  Let's have the second batch.

1962-1971

 

A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess (1962, England)

The Interrogation - J.M.G. Le Clézio (1963, France/Mauritius)

The Girls of Slender Means - Muriel Spark (1963, Scotland)

Arrow of God - Chinua Achebe (1964, Nigeria)

Death of a Naturalist - Seamus Heaney (1966, Northern Ireland)

Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys (1966, Dominica/Wales)

A Grain of Wheat - Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o (1967, Kenya)

Picnic at Hanging Rock - Joan Lindsay (1967, Australia)

The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born - Ayi Kwei Armah (1968, Ghana)

When Rain Clouds Gather - Bessie Head (1968, Botswana/South Africa)

     Conrad has actually read "A Clockwork Orange" and remembers the ending, where Alex is praying and hoping that he's not going to be transformed into someone strange and peculiar, or something strange and peculiar - like a clockwork orange.  I've heard of "Wide Sargasso Sea" yet know nothing about it, and "Picnic At Hanging Rock" is a work of fiction, NOT a documentary reconstruction, especially as one of the vanishing girls turns into a lizard or something.  Art!

Hmmmmmm 'Nadsat' being a corrupted Russian might not go down too well today

Finally -

The dishwasher has died on us, so Conrad and the rest of the household are having to wash dishes by hand, MY DELICATE HANDS, until Friday when the replacement arrives.  I shall not be here at The Mansion as I shall be hammering away at a hot keyboard in the Dark Tower.

*  I do apologise for stating "V20" yesterday.  My memory, my bad.

What Did I Tell You?

WHAT DID I TELL YOU!

I realise this is rather vague as a question, especially since I tell you all sorts of things, some of which are either blatantly untrue or very, very questionable.  Conrad: unreliable narrator.

     To what do I refer?  <pauses to enjoy the anxiety of readers>  Why, that old chestnut, Research and Development.  As I have already remarked, when you come up with a prototype, it needs extensive testing to iron out any problems inherent in the design, all the more so if you're dealing with a radical new design.  Art!

     This awesome steel fortress on tracks is the Crusader tank, of Second Unpleasantness vintage.  It was rushed into production post-Dunkirk because the British army needed workable tanks now, not a perfected version in six months.  This inevitably led to severe problems in the wild, as reliability became a serious issue that was only corrected after months of suffering and losses.  By 1943 they were reliable enough to have travelled all the way from El Alamein to Tunisia.

     So.  We now come to the Teutons and their V-weapons program, or at least the ones that saw the light of day rather than being a gleam in the eye of a wildly over-optimistic engineer.  Behold the V3!  Art?

V3 with puny human for scale

The general idea

     The idea was that a shell would be fired from a conventional breech, which would be accelerated up the barrel by extra propellant chambers mounted in pairs along the enormous 150 yard barrel.  Thus you could hit a target 60 miles away, in theory.  A scale model of 20 mm <sorry for the metric> bore was constructed and proved viable, at which point Herr Schickelgruber got involved (always a bad thing) and ordered the full-scale thing to be built WITHOUT TESTING.

     The prototype built as Misdroy blew up after firing a few shells, which did not bode especially well for the ones built in France at Mimoyeques.  The Teutons went to a lot of trouble to excavate tunnels for these weapons, along with underground railways and ammunition storage.  Art!

Cheery and welcoming

     They put an awful lot of resources into this project, which would have been far better employed in creating conventional artillery, because SURPRISE! here's 617 Squadron paying a visit with 5-ton Tallboy bombs, and that was the end of that.

     I should point out that the V3 was a fixed weapon, unable to traverse, or elevate, and the only way to change where the rounds would hit would have been to vary the charge.  It was aimed 'at London' and who knows where the shells would have landed.  As they say, if you want something over-engineered, give it to the Teutons.  If you want it under-engineered, give it to the Ruffians.  If you want it done right, give it to the South Canadians.

     This has caused Conrad to recall a Biggles novel, set in the Caribbean, where our hero is tasked with recovering a chest full of Teuton documents of V-weapon design, which Air Commodore Raymond says go up to the V-20.

     HAH!  Got it - Art?

The edition I had

     That's not all, I've also found a FREE complete text of the novel.  O boy I can see the next six hours being spent reading.  O just to set your mind at rest, the novel was published in 1969, so only 24 years after the Second Unpleasantness had ended, so secret Teuton documents not stretching credibility too much.

     That was a bit of a wild ride, was it not?  Going from the Crusader tank to Biggles in Jamaica.  All part of our solid service.  

I Mentioned "Judge Crater"

In yesteryon's blog, without an explanation.  Since Conrad also mentioned Lord Lucan and Jimmy Hoffa, both people who infamously disappeared, you might have gotten the gist of things. To enlighten you, Judge Crater was a very prominent South Canadian citizen, being a Supreme Court Judge who hob-nobbed with the rich, famous and controversial.  Art!

     The judge vanished on August 6th 1930 and was never seen again.  Despite enormous publicity and interest from the South Canadian public, that was that.  His body has never been found and no motive for his murder - for that it surely was - has ever been explained.  His vanishing was hot stuff for ten years, but it's almost forgotten today.  You never know - building renovation work on concrete foundations may yet uncover a skeleton in a suit ...

Colin Wilson

No!  Not the British author.  Duh.  No, I refer to the New Zealand comic artist, whose work I came across in a "2000AD Sci-Fi Special".  Ol' Col used to do work for the Galaxy's Finest back in their early years, and his artwork was a wonder to behold, definitely up there with Cam Kennedy, Brian Bolland and Ron Smith.  I took the effort to take a couple of photos - Art!

     The story is, frankly, rather silly - what I call "Century TV21 Syndrome" where the artwork is far better than the plot - but Col's artwork is terrific.  Art!

     For your information, in that panel at top, you see a Centurion in the foreground taking on a Merkava in the background - no nonsense about generic All Purpose Tank Designs for Colin.  The 2000AD editors all thought very highly of him, as do I.

Whilst On The Subject Of Conflict -

You don't know which is coming, do you - "The Sea Of Sand" or "The War Illustrated".

     I think I'll eke out the tension by putting in a picture that could apply to either.  Art!

A13 Cruiser

     O go on then, it's TSOS.

Taking the pint mug gingerly, Sarah sniffed and detected a faint odour of chlorine. 

          No!  Not for her.  She would gratefully decline when the Doctor refused his mug, too.  She turned to look and saw – treachery! – that her companion was eagerly gulping down the witch's brew.  With considerable misgiving, she sipped delicately at the muddy concoction, which in fact tasted more like hot ice cream than tea.  Losing her disdain, she latched onto the mug and emptied it in minutes, much to the amusement of the Doctor.

          ‘A valuable source of energy, thanks to the sugar, not to mention various proteins and vitamins, thanks to the condensed milk, and in a form that renders highly-chlorinated water potable, when water is at a premium,’ he lectured her.

          ‘It’s not long-leaf hand-picked Oolong, Miss Smith,’ apologised Llewellyn.

          ‘Never you mind!’ boomed the Doctor.  ‘The tea harvest of India guarantees high morale in the Eighth Army!’

          Sarah and Roger looked at each other with mutual embarassment at this over-the-top performance, and hence began a process of mutual bonding, which would enhance interaction, fact-finding and general exploration, all of which the Doctor had calculated for in mere seconds.  What he wanted to discover was the reason those interfering buffoons on Gallifrey had sent him here.  “Here” seemed to be the middle of a desert wilderness, with nothing particularly threatening in terms of malachronism or temporal toxicity.  True, large forces of armed homo sapiens were doing their level best to kill each other; which was nothing new and it couldn’t be the reason he and Sarah were diverted here.

     Actually The Doc got it wrong here, at this point in time it was still the Western Desert Force, but it's simpler for contemporary readers to understand.

Finally -

Cracking on well with the jigsaw, only about another 100 pieces left to put together and we have advanced significantly since yesteryon.  I may even post a picture, just to do a little gloasting.

     And with that we are well and truly done!

The Retrospect Affect

Yes, Time To Look Back In Amber

No!  Nothing to do with "Jurassic Park" or Roger Zelazny.  It was an amusing pun.  What I am talking about is our regular Sunday gaze backward o'er the back issues of BOOJUM! and we cannot begin until Art has provided us with a suitable pulp magazine illustration.  Art!

     You may not be aware, since the slang word has long been out of fashion, but "Reefer" is South Canadian slang of the early Twentieth Century for a "Joint" or what young folk today call a "Blunt" DON'T FORGET DRUGS ARE BAD, PEOPLE except for caffeine in tea.  This title is obviously shorthand for "She's a loose, immoral girl who has weird and exotic cravings thanks to her drug addiction and she'll do anything to anyone in order to get those drugs".  Where were the girls like this when Conrad was younger?

     ANYWAY lets get on with the links.

2021

BOOJUM!: Stone Me, The Drama's Mine! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2020

BOOJUM!: Great Squeaking (Vampire) Bats! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2019

BOOJUM!: The Dying Swan Lake (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2018

BOOJUM!: You Lose, Krasnaboos! (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2017

BOOJUM!: New Dawn Fades (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2016

BOOJUM!: Thunderbird (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2015

BOOJUM!: Is This A Coincidence I See Before Me? (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2014

BOOJUM!: Almost Faster Than The Eye Can Follow ... (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

2013

BOOJUM!: Late Breaking Blog (comsatangel2002.blogspot.com)

Old Dog Picks New Tricks

The 'Old Dog' In Question Being Me

Conrad! in case there was any doubt.  Who else do you think is writing the finest scrivel to ever grace the internet?  Lord Lucan?  Jimmy Hoffa?  Judge Crater?

     ANYWAY as you should surely know by now, Conrad is able to play his i-pod via his television, although he hasn't worked out how to select tracks and has to put up with a random selection.  Art!

     Given the number of CDs and tracks, it's perhaps inevitable that a certain number have no band or album title, as above - "Track 12".  I think some might be from dodgy free CDs that compiled dance tracks, and others are strange and unusual pressings that Apple cannot read or recognise.

     Playing the track, it's definitely Mr. E (he of Eels) singing, because he has a very distinctive voice, and the subject matter is, of course - obviously! - depressing and miserable.

     Technology to the rescue!  Conrad pondered - "What would happen if I Shazamed it?"

     Eels - "There I Said it", from "The Deconstruction" is what happened.  Art!

     This is great, in a minor way - it's always annoying to have a track that you might like and yet be unaware what it is or whom it's by.

     Ironically, Shazam is owned by Apple.  Go figure.

     Because this would otherwise be a very short Intro <shock horror society quivers to it's roots> I will further elucidate on Shazam, the comic character, which, if Art will stop gorging on coal -

     That's Captain Marvel ACCEPT NO INFERIOR SUBSTITUTES and Billy Batson.  BB transmutes into the Cap when he says "Shazam", because magic, and comics from 1940 didn't bother with reality or logic.  The comic came out under the title of "Captain Marvel" in 1940 and did spectacularly well, until those killjoys at DC decided to sue in 1953, citing Superman being copied.  What, it took them 13 years to notice?  After that the comic became "Shazam" for the next 20 years.  Art!

Just to annoy DC

     DC finally acquired the property in 1972 and have unsuccessfully tried to bring the character back in print.  The film's pretty amusing, however.  Art!

     Okay, that took us up to 362 words, which is sufficient for me to quit wittering and get on with the rest of the blog.  Unless - can I pad things out enough to hit 400 words?  Of course I can!

     Excuse me, an opera track just came on and we need to skip the ghastly caterwauling -

Pome Needed

Dull stuff about the office here, you can skip if you want the raw adrenaline rush of puns or zombie fiction.  Okay, Conrad is due to be working from home next week, but will be venturing into the office on Friday, because if you're office-bound you can finish at 13:30 to attend a goodbye event in the auditorium.  It's goodbye because the Ask HR staff will be working from home the week after and are all redundant as of 15/07/2022.  Art!

Adjourning here as of 17:00

     Now, being a man of letters <pause for applause, gets none, sulks> I feel it incumbent upon me to come up with a doggerel verse to celebrate this event.  You cannot call these things 'poetry' so I have dubbed them 'pomes'.

     Muse, get working in the background!

ZOMBIES!

Yes, because it's in our Blog Charter - "Tanks, Atom Bombs and Zombies" and Your Humble Scribe is nothing if not literal-minded.

     So to "Malnazidos", a trailer for which popped up on Netflix as they tend to do when you've not quit out after watching a film.  Conrad merely caught the word 'zombies' and then had to wait five minutes until the clip came around again and I got the title, which you see above.  Art!

     A Spanish zombie film, set in their Civil Unpleasantness, which is intriguing and will doubtless twist a few tails.  One to watch after "Stranger Things"

And Whilst On The Subject Of Conflict -

Let's bring up another photograph from "The War Illustrated" where Conrad will pontificate wisely.  Art!

     This is over a year before D-Day, so the Allies had no boots on the ground in Occupied Europe - the invasion of Italy doesn't come until September - so in lieu of that you have the RAF and USAF conducting 'rhubarbs' across the Continent, 'brassing-up' a list of targets.  The aircraft you see here are Typhoons at top, saying a happy hello to Teuton planes.  In the middle is the Westland Whirlwind, a rather neglected fighter that resembles a baby Mosquito.  Remember what I said about a proper timescale for research and development in an earlier blog?  From Wikipedia - "A radical aircraft requires either prolonged development or widespread service to exploit its concept and eliminate its weaknesses. Too often in World War II, such aircraft suffered accelerated development or limited service, with the result that teething difficulties came to be regarded as permanent limitations"

     The bottom illustration claims to show the P51 Mustang in action, apart from not looking anything like the aircraft and with fearfully inaccurate guff written about it.  Art - real thing please!

- And Still On The Subject Of Conflict

You didn't surely think you were going to get away with no more "The Sea Of Sand", did you?  The Doctor and Sarah are chatting companionably with Lieutenant Llewllyn, trying to elicit information without seeming mad or out of time.

‘The Professor dropped the “Schwartz” part of his name when the war broke out.  Didn’t think it very apt to be carrying a German surname, especially not given his religion.’

          The Doctor gave a rueful sigh.

          ‘Sorry.  We have been a little out of time, not quite in touch with events.’

          ‘Is he Jewish?’ asked Sarah, her journalistic sense kicking in at the possibility of a human-interest angle.

          Llewellyn coughed in embarassment.

          ‘Well only in the sense that his parents were Jewish.  He once described the Bible as a – how does it go? -’

          ‘ “A collection of piffle wrapped in waffle”!’ interrupted the Doctor, proud of having recollected the quote.

          ‘Er – quite.  Frankly I’m amazed he bothered to change his surname, because that implied he noticed what was going on in the outside world.  The Professor, Miss Smith, is not very worldly.'

          Casting a knowing eye at her time-travelling mentor, Sarah nodded wisely.

          A companionable silence settled in the tent, in stark contrast to the whooping desert winds outside.  Under their impact the tent walls bulged and swayed, sending rills of dust over the floor.  Finally, the lieutenant judged his hot water to be hot enough, as steam rose to make a temporary sauna of the tent.  He carefully measured out sugar and condensed milk into three of the worn mugs, then poured the boiling water into a decrepit tin teapot.  Letting it steep for several minutes longer, he poured liquor into the mugs and offered them to his guests.

     'Out of time' meaning 'anachronistic' not running late, just to be clear.

Finally -

Nearly at the Adjusted Compositional Ton.  What can I pontificate about now at short length?  Hmmm.  Well, I see the BBC is 'celebrating' The Rolling Stones.  You are aware, Auntie, that the ones who aren't zombies are cyborgs?  At least The Beatles had the good grace to break up before they became an embarrassing pastiche of a rock band*.

Proof!  Proof, I tell you!

*  Lest you be unaware, Conrad is not a fan.

We Have A Theme!

I Can't Remember The Last Time We Did A Themed Blog

But then my memory isn't what it used to be, thanks to old age and my daily bucket of gin.

     Our theme has nothing to do with the military districts of the Byzantine Empire, sorry if you were expecting an authoritative essay on the tactics of cataphracti in the ninth century.  No, today's theme is of -

     CATAPULT!

     I dreamt this up whilst walking Edna, which Conrad regards as his Thinking Time, as I can't do anything else whilst providing madam with her daily trot.  Art!

     No, Art, do keep up. Catapults.  Get with it or - Tazer.

     TOY CATAPULT

     Here you have a child's toy catapult, together with four foam balls, just to ensure they give the right message of not inflicting pain and suffering on other Hom. Sap.  Frankly Conrad is surprised these things aren't illegal, because since they were available to small cruel children they've been used with steel ball bearings or marbles, in order to best bruise your hapless victims.  Er - so I'm told.

     

Marble and ball-bearing resistant

     Why do we have a (clothed*) Greek statue?  Because 'Catapult' comes from the Greek <hack spit>, "Katapeltes", itself derived from "Kata" meaning "Down" and "Pallein" meaning "To hurl".  Okay, bring on the -

BAIT CATAPULT

The logic behind these engines of destruction is that an angler might well want to fling fish food further than fists can Pallein, so he resorts to one of these -

     No kidding, whilst a toy catapult might inflict a painful bruise, these things can inflict serious injury, especially if using rusty nuts and bolts to So I'm told.  Used in the manner to which they ought to be, you could tempt trout out at fifty yards.  Or, you could go to Morrisons and buy a fillet instead.  Next!

SIEGE CATAPULT

In the pre-gunpowder era, that is up to the <thinks> fifteenth century, sieges were principally conducted using weapons that utilised kinetic energy instead of chemical energy.  Art!

     As you may be able to make out from the first image, the arm was cranked down by a couple of sweating crewmen against the torsion power of coiled fibres, until it rested horizontally.  At this point you needed nothing more sophisticated than a large rock to put in the cradle, which made it cheap to run.  Once 'loaded' the ratchet was released and the arm shot up, dislodging the ammunition when it hit the crossbar.  Typically this produced a shallow trajectory to impact, quite sufficient for dealing with curtain walls that normally formed fixed defences in those days.

Next!

LAUNCH CATAPULT

This one will take a bit of explanation, so stick with me.  Aircraft carriers.  Some of the most monstrous marine machines ever built, I'm sure you'll admit.  Let's have a look at one of the earlier models - Art!

     A British invention, of course.  The idea was to keep your aircraft below decks until needed, then send them upstairs and have them fly off the flight-deck, to commit acts of mayhem upon the enemy.  Let's have a more modern version.  Art!

     Things were going swimmingly until some fool invented the jet engine, which created a problem, because jet aircraft needed a much longer take off than a turboprop.  Aircraft carriers would have needed to be twice as long, which was hugely impractical, not to mention expensive.  The solution?  A catapult.  Art!

     No, it doesn't look very impressive, does it?  Except that, like an iceberg, there's a lot of stuff you can't see underneath, although perhaps a swan is a better analogy with all the frantic sub-surface activity.  Art!

     The catapult physically accelerates the aircraft that's hooked up to the 'shoe', giving it a right old Pallein off the flight deck, sufficiently fast that it can thus take the air instead of having an early bath.  The steam catapult was orders of magnitude better than the simple physical model used previously, but of course - obviously! - Hom. Sap. cannot stop thinking up better ways of building either a mousetrap or monstrous marine monster, and the South Canadians now have an electromagnetic catapult.  Hello 'Admiral Kuznetsov'** are you reading this?

"The Sea Of Sand"

I know what you're thinking.  "How can Conrad work in catapults in a tale of aliens and the Second Unpleasantness?" well just you wait matey.  This extract is completely out of sequence, sue me if you don't like it.

‘Now!’ snapped the Doctor.  Capriccio revved the engine up to a metallic scream as the dubious soldiers stood watching.

Making a nasty scrunch in the process, Capriccio engaged first gear.  The rear axle instantly accelerated from zero to twenty miles per hour, snatching the cable taut, catapulting the plank over the pintle and hurling the petrol tin in a high arc over the desert.

Splinters flew from the abused plank when the cable pulled it apart and Capriccio hastily turned the engine off.

Tam’s comments were unprintable.  Lieutenant Llewellyn stood open- mouthed at the tin soaring into the dusky sky.  Dominione pinched his forearm, just to make sure.

‘Not high enough,’ said Davey, turning to glare at the Doctor, who merely winked and shouldered his rifle.

‘You’ll never hit it!’ said Davey, bluntly.

Calmly taking aim, adjusting for windage, deflection and heat haze, the Doctor squeezed the trigger and hit the tin at the top of it’s arc, the glowing tracer round knocking a plume of ignited petrol into the air.  The additional energy of the bullet’s impact tumbled the tin further out and downwards, landing on the crates of shells in a glare of burning petrol.

          ‘I didn’t just see that, did I?’ asked Tam.  ‘I mean, that’s just not possible, is it?’

          This time Davey’s comments were unprintable.

          Roger stared at the fire, then back at the Doctor.

          ‘Where – where the hell did you learn to shoot like that!  People at Bisley would kill to be that accurate.’

          The Doctor made an expansive gesture of false modesty.

          ‘Oh, Sergeant Lucy.  Royal Irish Rifles.  The retreat from Mons.’

          There wasn’t time for Roger to argue that the retreat from Mons occurred a good twenty-seven years previously.  Instead they dispersed the vehicles, knowing that to leave the wadi they must travel north to begin with.

     Okay, possibly stretching definitions a little.  So sue me.

A Little Musical Critique

For why, who did a song called "Catapult" but R.E.M.  I don't think we've turned the Eye Of Conrad upon them before, but we can certainly start now!

We were little boys, we were little girls

Okay, I'm already concerned about where this is going.  Potential child abuse, matey.

It's nine o'clock, don't try to turn it off

Er - how do you turn off time?  Unless you have a big blue police box

Cowered in a hole, ope your mouth

Say what?  Where did the hole come from?  Why cower?  What is 'Ope'?

Did we miss anything, did we miss anything

I think you turned over two pages at once, personally

Did we miss anything, did we miss anything

Yes.  Common sense and logic

Catapult (catapult), catapult

Catapult (catapult), catapult

Six catapults?  How many hands do you have?

  Currently grooving to a totally badass live version of "O.D.'d On Life Itself" by Blue Oyster Cult, just FYI.

     ANYWAY there's more to the REM song, but we've hit the Adjusted Compositional Ton, so our work here is done.  DONE!

*  Harder to find than you'd imagine.  You see?  You see what pains we go to in order to remain SFW?

**  Conrad is not superstitious, but the 'Admiral Kuznetsov' has been so unlucky for so long that he strongly suspects it's cursed.

Steven Segal Likes Chivas Regal

Perhaps

Is it a brandy or whisky?  Conrad is unsure and if the latter is unlikely ever to try the horrid stuff.

     ANYWAY Mr. Segal may not like Chivas Regal; he may, for example, prefer Johnny Walker, except that doesn't rhyme, does it?  

     You may be wondering why we lead with mention of a has-been action star whose heyday was many decades ago, and who has a head shaped like a bucket.  An upside-down bucket  Art!

Before

After

     Well, we now know the answer to that age-old question "Who ate all the pies?", don't we?  Conrad doesn't feel at all bad at traducing the fat old biffer as he is an extremely unpleasant bully fond of throwing his weight - of which there is a lot - around.  Go ask Joe Leguizamo if you don't believe me. Art!

     Eating six meals a day might explain it.  The title comes from a Youtube video, which is 28 minutes long and thus 27 minutes too long for me to bother with.  I have seen one of his films, "Under Siege" which does have a few amusing scenes, as when he's imprisoned and fussing about his pies getting burnt.  Yes yes yes, it's that one with Gary Busey in drag and the topless Playboy model jumping out of a cake.  And Tommy Lee Jones chewing the carpet as an uber-villain.  Art!

What were you expecting?  WASH OUT YOUR FILTHY MINDS!

     Where was I?  O yes.  Ol' Ste used to hawk his own brand of energy drink, which Conrad seems to remember being described on The Agony Booth's forum as 'disgusting'.

     Why all the hate for the Seagull?  Because I have another suggestion as to what killed his career.  Art!

Good!

     This detestable scourge of the airwaves is one of those DJ's cast in the mould of Smashie and Nicey, a man deeply in love with the sound of his own voice, seeking to use his DJ role as a stepping-stone to fame and fortune.  Radio 2 used to be the station that Radio 1 DJs were sent to die at, and this one seems to have become undead enough to get the heave-ho.

     I say, I am in a prickly mood today, aren't I!

     ANYWAY Your Humble Scribe is pretty certain that what killed off Steven the Seagull's career is his resemblance to Steve Wright.  You can imagine the conversation:

FAN: You're Steve Wright

STEVEN THE SEAGULL: Right, I'm Steve.

FAN: Cool - can you play a song for me?

STEVEN THE SEAGULL <confusedly>: A song?

FAN: Yeah, on the radio.

STEVEN THE SEAGULL <looks behind himself>: Are you talking to me?

FAN <also confused>: Yeah - you are Steve Wright?

STEVEN THE SEAGULL: I already said I was!

FAN: No need to get salty.

STEVEN THE SEAGULL: Look, pal -

FAN <pokes him in the chest>: Can

     Steven reacts instinctively and decks the fan.  There are lawyers.  You can guess the rest.

     Of course, I could be overthinking this a bit ...

Hoorah For Me!

Yesterday I finally finished "Reclaiming History", that two-and-a-half-inch thick tome that I began reading - and I checked back over the blog to make sure - on September 25th 2021, so that's nine months of reading.  Art!

     1,518 pages long.  Having read it, I don't feel like reading it again, so it's going down to the charity shop later on.

     Thing is, there's a CD in the back, which had never been removed from it's protective wrapping, so I tore the perforated strip off to gain access and wondered if it would still load, because it's from 2007.  The two files on it turned out to be PFD and perfectly legible on my laptop.  HOWEVER - Art?

    In case it's not clear, these "Endnotes" total another 958 pages.  Conrad is going to be a very naughty boy and not put the CD back in the case, tee hee!

Progress Report

For the past nine months this has been me telling you how far I've got with Vinnie's baby (which he began researching in 1986) and mightily bored you've all been.  Today we substitute a jigsaw.  Art!

     You may be able to tell that I've done all the easier bits where there were structures present; what's left is undifferentiated cloud or river. and it's not clear which is which.  O well, if I didn't want to spend time on it I should never have started.

Let's Have More Of "The War Illustrated", Shall We?

It was a rhetorical question, you don't get a say in matters.  Once again, whose blog is it?  Art!

     Here we see the senior political and military Allied leaders in Algiers, where they could meet in safety since the only Axis nearby were prisoners of war. Conrad is sufficiently sad/well-informed/nerdy <delete where applicable> to know most of these people by sight.  From port to starboard they are: Anthony Eden, General Alanbrooke, Air Marshal Tedder, Admiral Pound, Winnie, General Alexander ("The Immaculate"), General George Marshall (South Canadian), General Eisenhower (also South Canadian) and Monty ("The Insufferable").  O how the Axis would have liked to bomb this little lot!

More Of War

Yes, back to "The Sea Of Sand", where, as you SHOULD SO SURELY REMEMBER The Fourth Doctor and Sarah were under a kind of house-arrest in a tent whilst a sandstorm rages outside.

‘Lieutenant Roger Llewellyn, Royal Army Service Corps.  Well, Doctor, if you and your –‘ and the lieutenant hesitated fractionally before saying “daughter” or even “wife” – ‘companion would care to take a seat?  It’s not Groppi’s or Shepheards, I’m afraid, but it’s the best you’ve got.  We won’t be moving from here until the storm blows out.’

          Sarah perched herself on the edge of a folding canvas chair, having to move a volume of Wordsworth first.  The Doctor remained standing, looking keenly at the officer.

          ‘And you know the Professor?’ asked Llewellyn, busying himself with a small primus stove.  He fished out a set of chipped enamel mugs from underneath his camp bed.

          ‘Ah, yes, Professor Templeman-Schwartz.  Author of  “Missing Cultures of the Pre-Pharaonic Era”,’ declaimed the Doctor, in full Shakespearean mode, performing to the tentpole. 

          ‘How do you know that!’ exclaimed Llewellyn, his head turning rapidly in surprise.  ‘He hasn’t even completed the manuscript yet!’

          The Doctor merely gave a toothy grin, one that an observer could interpret in many ways, usually the one they most wanted to interpret.

          ‘Oho, out from Oxford as well, eh,’ murmured the officer, focussing on the tea-making ritual.  Satisfied that the blackened petrol-tin base serving as a boiler was positioned correctly, he stood up and wagged a finger at the intruding pair.

     Anecdotally, it is said that British squaddies and tank crews would make a brew up to eight times a day if they had the time.  Tea: whilst money may be the sinews of war, tea is definitely the blood in the veins.

Finally -

Domestic chores need a-doing, as the dishwasher seems to be on it's way out and thus we have a pile of dirty crocks on the draining-board.  Not only that, I need to take Edna walkies whilst the sun still shines, and de-bristle my face in order to look less forbidding and scruffy.  Hopefully I'll get use of the car to take those books into Royton, because they weight a fair bit.