Achtung Bobby

No!  Nothing To Do With U2
Although perhaps that slightly click-baity title will pull in a few of the confused or the curious.  Actually, whilst we're on the subject of music, that Coincidence Hydra has been nibbling on my nethers again.  What was I playing on my i-pod before?  "Before and After Science" by Brian Eno; you know, the one from Roxy Music who dressed like a peacock.  What came up on Facebook this afternoon?  That's right, an animated advert for - Brian Eno.

B.Eno

     Really, if the Universe is trying to tell me something, couldn't it just use social media?
     None of this, of course, has anything to do with what follows.  Do keep up!

"The Dead Can Wait" By Robert Ryan
The author, not the film star, and the "Bobby" of today's title.  A sequel to "Dead Man's land", but not as enjoyable, for reasons.  Which I will now go into, so beware of the SPOILERS ahead.  The plot concerns the development of the tank in 1916, during the First Unpleasantness.
     Here an aside.  The British invented the tank, yet it was the M83s who came up with the classic layout with the Renault F17.  Art?

The Abram's great-grandaddy

     Now, Bobby over-eggs the pudding by having not one but two Teuton spies at work in the Allotment, located right next to the testing grounds.  One would be believable, two is, frankly, stretching it rather.  Nor is that all; these Teuton spies are veritable superhumans, which is utterly at odds with the real spies in the Allotment, who were bungling incompetents arrested by the dozens*.  Nor is that all!  One of them works for the Naval Intelligence Service, who in reality restricted their agents to very dull work exclusively about naval guff - they wouldn't have had anything to do with tanks.  This same spy has their own radio transmitter and receiver; unfortunately for the plot, MI1(b) had half a dozen eavesdropping stations that would have, at the very least, picked up any NIS transmissions.

Hi-tec at the time!

     Bad Bobby!  Naughty Bobby!  Next time, see Conrad first.

If The Borg Were British -
You know, those chaps from "Star Trek" who look like a dynamited plumber's warehouse. 

Comes with a Bluetooth option!

 They would have a much easier time of conquering the universe if they adopted the persona of the British.  Yesterday I explained how they could amend their language to come across as us island folk.  I shall expound more lessons.

1)  DON'T TALK IN CAPITALS ALL THE TIME!  This is pretty close to boasting aloud, which we here in the Allotment simply do not do.  Impolite, you see.

2)  Offer your subject race a cup of tea before you assimilate them; everything goes better with a brew.  A digestive biscuit would be nice, too.

3)  Avoid steaming in with threats as your opening sentence, as being threatened with imminent immolation can frequently offend.  Instead, begin with "What about the weather, eh?" or "Did you see 'Bake Off' last night?"

4)  Point out that First Bus are so utterly rubbish, assimilating them can only be a good thing.

5)  If about to attack Starfleet personnel in ground combat, form an orderly queue.

6)  Politeness cost nothing; when imposing your hideous diktat on cowed survivors, always remember to add "please", and say "excuse me" a lot.

     There you go - Conrad, helping aggressive expansionist conquerors get in touch with their Inner Polite.

I said a QUEUE!

Dammit!
They haven't taken my advice - a hasty review of the BBC's website includes a sports report about the "British and Irish Lions", who are apparently a variety of rugby team.  Rugby, for those not hailing from the Allotment, is one of those sports that the British taught the world, only for the world to get better at it than teacher.  It's like South Canadian Football, without all the soppy protective gear.
     I keep going to bat for the weasel, and I think I put together a pretty cogent argument last week that these teams ought to be named after our native mammal, rather than a great lazy fur coat with teeth.

                       Mum and Dad

Righto, time to wrap this up and head downstairs for tea!


*  And then executed.  No happy endings for them.

World Domination - A Guide

Not The Whole Thing, Of Course
Otherwise you might end up in competition against me, and I'd hate to have to annihilate 
the lot of you.  Where would I get my blog traffic from?  
     Anyway, there I was, watching "Star Trek: First Contact" and seeing the Borg getting a right shoeing.  People don't like the Borg, and it's not because they sound Swedish.  They have a real image problem, and part of it is how they behave and communicate.

"Anyone for tennis?"

     Now, how much more smoothly would things go in World Conquest and Domination if the Borg - were British?
     Kindly stop laughing!  I'm serious.  The Borg have taken the first step, if you will, because they just stooge around and get on with things, no idle chit-chat or taking a siesta or having a long liquid lunch - just like us British.  You see them bundled up in their cubicles, joylessly doing whatever cubicle-y tasks they have, just like a British call-centre.
     Let's look at how this lot of cyborg pikers would speak if they were British.

BORG                                                          BRITISH
"RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!"                               "Look, really, this resistance thing - really, it 
                                                                    jolly well isn't on."

"YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED!"                         "I say, could you see your way clear to                                                                               hopping on to our team?"

"You are an imperfect being."                        "Not to be a wet blanket, old boy, but to be 
                                                                     honest, you could do with a spruce-up."

"We will add your distinctiveness to our own"  "That hopping on to our team - we're rather
                                                                     keen on it, you know."

"Human ... Flawed.  Weak.  Organic."             "We can offer you discount shopping 
                                                                      vouchers.  And weekends off."

"I am the Borg."                                               "And you can be too!  All we need is your 
                                                                        sort code and a signature.  Easy-peasy."

     Well, it's a start.  I would also suggest that Mrs. The Borg wears a hat, as seeing a load of piping hanging out of the back of someone's head is not, really, the best first impression.

Quick!  Call a plumber! And then a milliner!

Back To Clerihews
And the fruit of today's walking the dog is a few British monarchs, plus Peter Sellers, because he seems to fit in with the British actors of the Sixties that I was harping on about yesterday.

Good Queen Bess

Was rather a mess.

Her face-paint was larded with lead,

Which inconveniently rendered her dead.

     For once, all true.  Oh, "Good Queen Bess" is Elizabeth the First, for all those unlucky enough to live beyond these hallowed shores.  The face-paint of those times did indeed contain white lead, which is very bad for you, although it takes a fair while before it makes you wormfood.  Next!

Bad King John

Was a right one.

However, he was good at laying siege,

And liked it if you said "My liege".

     This is partly true, at least that I know of.  John has a terrible reputation, caused by living in the shadow of his better-regarded brother Richard, who could do no wrong and was almost able to walk on water.  John was an able besieger, for your information, and was also regarded as delivering good legal counsel, although you did have to pay him.  As for that "My liege" bit, I refer to the term used in feudal relationships of a superior, and people probably did call him that.

Liege: the city

Old Queen Vic

Didn't look sick.

But she cursed her offspring with haemophilia;

Now, there's a disease that'll kill yer.

     Again all true!  Because the crowned heads of Europe were all frightfully interbred, the affliction of haemophilia did get passed around generously.  Whilst you may be most familiar with Queen Victoria as that dowdy old lady in a black dress, she was quite the hottie when young.

Close enough

Peter Sellers

Wasn't like other fellers.

For one, he was a talented mimic.

And he could play the banjo acoustic.

     Hmmm.  I'm being entirely too factual and accurate here.  Yes, Peter was an excellent mimic, and quite the musician, too.  I'm sure if you went looking you could find a few CD's of his musical comedy work.  By the way, when he was a mere enlisted man in the RAF, he once got dressed up as a senior officer and went around the rankers, having a chat with them and giving the impression that one of the big-wigs cared.  This was very naughty indeed - it's called "Impersonating an Officer" - and would have landed him in verrry hot water if he'd been found out.

But here - he gets paid for it!