The Naked Rambler

Yes, Indeed!
Let us pause for a moment and pay homage to one of American comic's unsung heroes, Robert Crumb, and his creation "Mr. Natural".  Who tends to go on about things, rather.  So you may indeed say that he rambles.
     He normally tends to wear a long robe, but on occasion has been known to go "au naturelle" as in below - don't worry, all very tasteful and all you see is beard -

This is BOOJUM! after all.  No full frontals

     As you can see above, he's rambling.  And naked.
     Oh - wait a minute - did you think I meant that chap in the news? Oops - sorry!

Toxic To Voles
Forgive an old man's obsession.  I have another verse for the song "Toxic To Voles" by The Skreeming Voles, their signature song and a favourite around the YMCA hall in Hampton Dibney during the summer of '79:

Lethal to lemmings!  lethal to lemmings!

We hate posh British actors -

Like you, David Hemmings!

Lethal to lemmings!  Lethal to lemmings!

     Well there you go, social protest and cruelty to animals in one compact package.  Vocalist Tarquin ffrench-Hughes Hallet, who went under the stage name "Pocksy Afflicted", said that his father (the Right Reverend Hugh ffrench-Hughes Hallett) was a staunch member of the RSPCA* and stopped his allowance when the LP "High Voleacity" came out.

Watch it, Pocksy - Mr Hemming is armed

"Lammermoor"
It's a Scottish surname, and Conrad was curious about it because - well, in recent days we've had "lammergeyer" and "lambast", so what does this mean?
     Firstly, it's  compound name.  "Lammer" comes from the French "L'ambre", corrupted over time.  Yes, French.  The French and Scots used to get together every so often and pick on their common enemy, the English.  "Moor" means "moor", i.e. an open stretch of heathland.
     Amber moorland.  That's a bit dull,  I expected a bit of blood at least.

Too true it's dull!  Have a picture of a nuclear bazooka.
Range = 500 metres.  Blast radius = 600 metres

Today's Metro-Malletting
Ah yes the Metro.  Conrad has not turned his beady, heedy, greedy eye upon this publication for a few days now, meaning it's circulation has probably risen.
     Enough!  What do we have here?  Someone French attacking the English - my how some behaviour is consistent over the centuries! - at which Conrad spots Mister Hand with a bamboo skewer and moves hastily away from current affairs, and onto -

Agincourt.  Back when the English (and the Welsh) were not such terrific chums with the French as they are now.

Robbie William
Two articles about him in the paper today, after another one in yesterday's!  What's going on?  Is there a lack of things going on in the world?  How hard are his agent and publicist shovelling stuff at the media*?
     Let Conrad put forth his Shark Theory On Talent-Free Celebrities.
     The shark, you see, lacks a swim bladder.  If it stops swimming, it will die.  To live it has to constantly swim.
     So it is with the preponderance of these (frequently single-name) celebrities.  They have to be constantly in the spotlight or, lacking any real ability, they will die***.  Thus they employ a flock of lesser parasites - publicists, agents, managers, promoters - that parallel the remora you see sucking up to sharks.
     Of course, this gives me another excuse to have a picture of the Weasel Shark along:

Quite shark-y looking, rather less so of the weasel about it.

Mike Leigh
Ah, now the Metro partially redeems itself, posting an interview with Mike Leigh.
     What do you mean, who's he!  The exit door is THAT WAY!
     Mike Leigh, I'll have you know, is a British film director, who makes excellent idiosyncratic British films - his latest is "Mr Turner" about the painter.
     Your homework for tomorrow is to go away and check up on Mike over at IMDB.
     There will be a test.

Vivien Leigh. Close enough

Okay, that's enough of the Metro. Let us move on to - 

SSE Energy
You'll have seen the posters for this energy company, boasting about prices or somesuch drivel^, up on hoardings and perhaps on that television device installed as a novelty in several homes across Greater Manchester.

     You can see the imagery in the background, mountains, snow, a country house, possibly in the Highlands - it evokes chilliness.  Presumably one is led to link this to - an orang-utang?
     I hate to undermine the image here, but Bearsden is not Borneo.
     Conrad actually much prefers the sombre, deadpan, gentle and wise orang-utang to the hideous chimpanzee.  2000 AD also like orang-utangs, viz:

Dave the Orang-Utang, Mayor of Mega-City One!
(It's a long story)

Finally
Ah, you can never go wrong with cute baby animals (except the wyvern) so here you go with bit more orang-utang:

Second later, it ate the photographer.

* The Royal Society For The Prevention Of Cruelty To Animals.  This noble country's inspiration for the ASPCA.
** At a rate of some 160 m.p.h.  (masses of publicity hackness)
*** Only metaphorically, but Conrad can dream, can't he?
^ Conrad has not, apparently, paid enough attention to these posters.

Lloyd's Bank

A Proud Landscaper's Product
Here it is:

It took him all weekend

     Mr Alun Lloyd, of 32 Conwy Drive, Carmarthen, said the new structure would prevent earth from being run-off into the yard during heavy rain.
     Hang on - you weren't thinking this would be about the other -

As You Surely Know By Now
Gentle reader, Conrad breakfasts at work by dunking bread - preferably stale not fresh, as fresh goes too soggy and falls apart in the cup - into a cup of Marmite made up as a hot drink.  He has to be rather surreptitious about it, as this is bordering on eating hot food at one's workstation, which is frowned upon by The Powers That Be.
     Anyway, real branded Marmite, or the generic substitute that retails at Asda, both, suffer from "string" - that is, when you lift the spoonful of extract out of the jar, it inevitably leaves a long thin trail of extract behind.  This then dangles over the jar's threads and has all the effects of superglue.
     Morrison's yeast extract, which they have only just started retailing again, 

Yeast extract: loved or hated.  No middle ground possible

is an entirely different texture.  Same taste, yes, but different texture.  It doesn't string and so Conrad is able to open the jar without risking a hernia.
     Just one of those little things that help the day to pass a fraction more smoothly.

"Aplomb"
I have used this word to describe situations or experiences without knowing exactly how to pronounce or where it comes from.  It means, of course, to handle circumstances with poise, dignity and confidence.
     And it's origin? French (Hooray! Not Latin!) from the phrase "A plomb", taken from a plumbline, which is seen as proverbially dependable and consistent

A Plum.  Close enough

"Lambast"
Another word I have used, without being aware of it's origins.  I can hear you now, "Tell us, Conrad!  Tell us where it comes from!  We are eager to know!"
     Steady now.  Calm down and I'll tell you.  It means to aggressively attack a person or institution.
     Okay, the "Lam" part is thought to come from the Norwegian "Lamme", which means to "paralyse"*.  The "bast" derives from the English word "baste", that is to keep meat soft by pouring it's own juices over it. So you are beating someone to a jelly in a pool of (metaphorical) blood.

What an hideous image that was - have a fluffy bunny instead.^^^

Travel Trouble
Ah, yes, it did seem to take a long time to get home.  I started reading my paperback book on page 78*** and had gotten to the end, page 178, before reaching the Mansion.  Why, the journey took two hours!
     There, don't you think Conrad handled that with aplomb?  But I shall certainly lambast Firstbus for dawdling so effetely.

One of those times you wish you drove a Challenger tank ...

"Filboid Studge"
Proof, were it needed, that Conrad's mind needs to be kept occupied or it will come up with the most fearful twaddle - what's that?  "Filboid Studge" is a real thing?
     Kind of real.  It's actually the title of a short story by Saki, about a disgusting breakfast cereal that's a drug on the market^.  Herein the link:
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/FilStu.shtml
  Why one earth it should pop into your humble scribe's head at 8:15 a.m. on a Tuesday - well, that will forever remain a mystery.
     I wonder if you can dip it in Marmite?

Filboid Studge: pure, unadulterated cardboard

Avid Diva
Given that Morgan Fairchild gets the thumbs-up from Phil Plait, the Bad Astronomer, for being a science nerd, I think she merits this title.
     I come up with the palindrome - er - again, whilst walking down Miller Street.  Having created it I needed someone to assign it to, in order to modestly show how clever I am.

Morgan Freeman.  Easily confused

Toxic To Voles!
Yes, I have managed a second verse for that seminal punk band The Skreeming Voles^^, from their 1979 debut "High Voleocity".

Toxic to voles!  Toxic to Voles!

We're getting hand-grenades

To throw down badger holes.

Toxic to voles!  Toxic to voles!

     Since "voles" is easy to rhyme with, expect more from Chipping Sodbury's best.

A vole, screaming.

Finally
Not sure if this is cute, animal abuse or a graphic artist with entirely toooo much time on their hands, but here you go:

Tigerphant

* Thus the Lammergeyer.  Dangerous but stupid, and probably dead drunk, the paralytic swine**.
** Yes, yes, I know, I know, a mixed metaphor.  Whose blog is it?
*** I will clarify: I recommenced reading at page 78, having already read up to there.  Conrad doesn't merely pick a page at random and dive in.
^ Rinse out your evil mind!  Not that kind of drug - the drag kind of drug.
^^ If Robert Rankin can obsess about sprouts, I can obsess about voles.  Why are they Skreeming? Because the water in the pan is so hot ...
^^^ Of course, it is a cannibal bunny ...