A Study In Radioactive Cobalt Blue

Actually, It's Nothing Of The Sort
But "A Study In Scarlet" was already taken, and "A Study In Brown" is not only rather subdued and unexciting, it sounds far too similar to "A Brown Study" which is old-fashioned speech for being bored.  Which we won't be.
     Cobalt, incidentally, is the stuff that can get added to thermonuclear weapons to make them extra-specially deadly, as if they weren't sufficiently so already.  It becomes a radioactive isotope in the fusion detonation, which contaminates land for over 120 years before it becomes safe to walk about on.  And it makes a nice blue pigment.

Cobalt: the nicer version

     No, what we're going to be covering in some detail is - "Father Brown".  The BBC television series about a priest who is about as meddlesome as they come.  Inspector Sinclair no doubt echoes the sentiment "Will no-one rid me of this meddlesome priest?"
     Moving on, we shall be looking at the episode "The Laws Of Motion", which begins with a bit of bottled thunder, so to speak, as it involves racing cars of Fifties vintage.  Very definitely Fifties vintage, with their boat-shaped bodywork, and quite a few of them, too.

A Frazer Nash 1926 as raced by McMurray

One wonders what Health & Safety hoops the BBC had to jump through for this, because these things rattle along at a fair old pace:  Conrad confidently predicts carnage at some point*.  They're nothing like as fast as modern Formula One cars, of course, yet they have NONE of the modern safety features built-in, either.  The occasional shot from wheel-hub level shows a kinetic thrill that kind of explains why drivers do this: The Need For Speed.
     Oh, and there's a murder.  
     Then in quick succession we have two suspects, a confession and then two more suspects and - what this?!  Father Brown in jail?  Surely not!
     It all gets sorted out eventually, of course, and Inspector Sinclair, faced fixed in a rictus resembling a death mask, has to present Father Brown with a citation from the Chief Constable of Gloucestershire.  For those of you not familiar with the police heirarchy, this chap is a big cheese indeed, and not someone to be trifled with.  Hence the Inspector's rather sick look.     Not wishing to bash you over the bonce with Britishness - which should not be a problem as we have gifted the world both the crumpet and hovercraft - but we have further of the Father.
     I have no idea if Mark Williams (the Actor playing Father Brown - do keep up!) is Catholic or even religious, but he has to come across convincingly as a priest, because lots of those watching will be both.  Thus, amongst the credits we see a "Priest Adviser", no doubt advising on what robes to wear for what occasion, what Latin phrases to use and what constitutes the daily duties in a priestly parish.

Beneath this bumbling exterior is a mind as precise as a Swiss watch.

Kembleford's finest.  No - hang on -

     Then, too, there is a Police Adviser, because we are talking of the Fifties, after all, when police procedures and language were very different.  One particular aspect is that Capital Punishment is still in force, which means death by hanging (none of that nasty new-fangled electric chair nonsense here, thank you very much).  As Pete, a police acquaintance of mine, informed, when he started it used to be the form that you ended your reports with "I have the honour to be your obedient servant", which is very "Dixon of Dock Green".

Yes, that is a lot about Father Brown, but you also learned a bit about Doomsday Weapon Design, so that makes it okay.  Next!

One Happy Dog
If ever Conrad finds himself in need of gainful employment, he can always make ends meet by promoting himself as a Human-Shaped Cushion.  Here is a ringing endorsement from Edna:

     She was even happier when the cushion took her for a walk in the rain.  Easily satisfied!

Clerihew!
After insulting several different nationalities recently, I now turn the terrifying focus of fun on the English, who, frankly, have been responsible for a great deal of mischief across the globe.  So - 

The Black Prince

Was very fond of quince.

Especially when it came as a jam.

"The more quince," he said, "The happier I am."

     Not a fact you'll find in the history books.

No, Art, No!

Finally
Because we need a short article to finish, as the ones I have in waiting are quite long, we can once again rely on the Ruffians to provide something peculiar; "logic" and "normal" are two words I suspect are not often used by the natives.  Thus, behold!

Balloon Car "Volga"

     It does resemble a balloon, yes, although I don't see any wheels and it doesn't seem to have any bumpers, either.  Although if it did get hit by another vehicle I suppose it would just roll upright again, eh?


*  Do you see what I did there?

Whom Shall We Insult Today?

I Like To Spread It Around
Some nations disqualify themselves because they are automatically classed as low-hanging fruit: North Korea, for one, because in terms of satire you cannot fail to hit the gold.  Honestly, if you were an archer wielding a bow and arrow, blindfolded, and your missile of malicious mirth was sent off into the blue at random, you'd still hit the Nork gold (that's what archers call the middle of a target, never the "bullseye").  Norway's another, because they're so ruddy perfect.  Honestly, if the best you can do in satirising Norway is to harp on about "lutefisk", give it up before starting.
     There are other targets, however.  The M83'*s, for one.  I feel a clerihew coming on, annnny moment now.

President Pompidou

Sniffed glue.

I realise that this rather a shock.

It's because he couldn't get Blackpool rock.

     There you go!  Who's next?

Brendan Behan

Wasn't vegan.

I also believe he drank rather a lot.

So a teetotaller he was not.

     France, Ireland, let us now focus on - Denmark!
    Hmmm.  This might take a bit of thought.

Nils Bohr

Was responsible for

Lots of interesting atomic theories.

However, he was useless at home-baking queries.

     Before you ask, he was a famous Danish nuclear physicist, so you may next hear of me incarcerated in some sinister Copehagen fortress.

Sinister-era family saloon

     I'm including this here because i) I can and ii) Facebook may put it up as the default picture.  We'll see.
     Enough gimcrack nonsense - let the refurbished motley with it's 16-cylinder engine out onto the roads of the imagination!

Of Pub And Quiz
As I am on leave this week, I cannot regale my work colleagues with questions from the Pub Quiz of two weeks ago for a couple of reasons.  Firstly, I am not making an effort to go into the office merely to spend twenty minutes doing a question-and-answer session, regardless of how happy it makes them.  Secondly, I only have the answers, not the questions..
     Does this matter?  Yes, rather!  For example, "Chickens", "Barbara Streisand" and "12".  Those are the answers and I've 0% idea what the questions were.

If you shouted "Barbara" all twelve would look at you.
(Perhaps)

     Oh well.  I do have the questions and answers for last week's quiz, where Darling Daughter helped us to a win.  Thus -

Q10)  Which television detective's trademark was a lollipop?
Q3)   The Los Angeles Lakers play what sport? (Nothing to do with swimming)
Q14)  "Aqueous humour" and "Vitreous humour" are found in which part of the body?  (No!  Not the funny bone).

     If I feel merciful and - the key factor - remember, I may post the answers tomorrow.

Veronica Lake.  She probably lived in Los Angeles.

The Sinister Sounds Of Settling Seats
If you bothered reading the blog earlier this week, then you will know that this article has taken up residence in my Upstair Lair.

     As is clearly visible here, it is upholstered in leather, and very comfortable it is, too.
     The problems begin when vacating it of an evening, because after a sufficiently long interval for Conrad to hie him hence into the bed, the chair's leather starts to regain it's shape, meaning a lot of creaking and cracking.  Exactly as if something invisible were getting itself comfortable for a night-long scrutiny of your humble hack.
     Just thought you'd like to know!

"Captain America: Civil War"
Hmmm.  Conrad watched this yesterday and was not overly impressed.  There are two separate plot strands, one of which features an incredibly convoluted plot by one Zemo to gain revenge - or would that be avenged? - that makes no sense at all.  It's as if the scriptwriters learned their craft by analysing the game Moustrap.  

"Okay, Lesson One: everything has to be pointlessly complex -"

One supposes that we're also supposed to sympathise with Zemo during his soliloquy - sorry, Dramatic Rationale Soliloquy - forgetting the folks he slaughtered along the way.  Ah, what's a bit of collateral damage!
     Then there is the considerably more interesting thread about accountability.  If 50 people are killed whilst the Avengers battle the bad guys in a city centre, who is to blame?  Entirely the bad guys?  Shared culpability?  Mostly the Avengers?  Could they argue in their defence that there would have been at least 500 deaths if they hadn't intervened?  Then, if the Avengers had all signed up to a UN-sanctioned mandate, how would the UN approve an intervention?  How long would it take?  What might the death toll rise to before the Avengers get the "Go" signal?  (if they do).  

No, Art!

     Officially, then, the Avengers would be blameless, although they might have trouble squaring that with their consciences.  And, inevitably, they would get blamed by someone.  You humans are like that.
     Then again, if they don't sign up, and carry on being vigilantes, they're criminals.  Exactly as bad, in the eyes of law enforcement, as the villains they attempt to tackle.  So they'd be risking their freedom in addition to their lives, which would get a bit wearing after a bit.
     So they might give up after a while, if they're not already in jail - which would make a good start point for another film.  Just don't base the script on Kerplunk.

The Avengers heard there was free coffee and doughnuts going -

     Echoes of "Watchmen" and the Keene Act, eh?

Lest you forget

     Well, we have gone well over count, and yet I had so much more to blather on about.  Tomorrow.  I may be on leave but you're still only getting one post per day, and that's that.


*  BOOJUM! nickname for the French.  Because we're <ahem> 'mates'.