Thank God it wasn't Foot Day.
Concerning seventeen severe yet oddly flamboyant Dutch guardsmen; a belt-and-braces approach to masks; a handy resource for the absent-minded stabber; a decision about puzzles... and a puzzle.
Conversation I imagine took place between Dirck Jacobsz and his Dutch guardsman friend:
-Hey Dirck! Seventeen of us Dutch guardsmen are getting together this weekend, can you do us a group portrait?
- Argh, I’m sorry, Anders, but I absolutely promised myself I’d spend Saturday practising drawing hands.
-Are you sure? I reckon the guys would kick in ten guilders apiece…
-…Well…
News and Ads
John Finnemore, Among Other
We have a new date, and it’s soooon! This time it’s the people of Worcester who have drawn the short straw: in two weeks, on Tuesday 20th May, we will be coming to Huntingdon Hall with a first half of sketches, and a second half of a Double Act and a Since You Ask Me. You can book tickets here, and if you ask me, you should.
By ‘we’, I mean me and my favourite member of the Souvenir Programme cast, who is currently- and surely always was and always will be- Simon Kane. For the Double Act, I haven’t decided whether we’ll do The Goliath Window, the one we did on the radio, or maybe try Penguin Diplomacy or The Wroxton Box. I’ll ask Simon what he thinks. In fact, I suppose I’m doing that now. Hi, Simon. I will also email you.
Puzzles.
Well, I’m glad I asked! Last edition I set up a poll on whether or not we had a Japanese Knotweed problem with puzzles in this newsletter, and here are the results:
As you see, although I’m glad about the 40%, still something of a landslide for All My Usual Nonsense. Accordingly, I will put a final puzzle in this edition, because I said I would last time; but next edition I will announce a new place where the 1% and hopefully plenty of the 40% can go for my puzzles and nothing but my puzzles; while the 99% can stay here for my nonsense and nothing but my nonsense.
Many thanks to Karen Butterfill, who got in touch with my agents to let me know that someone is pretending to be me on Twitter. How annoying. No, it’s not me - I left a while ago, and don’t even post links to these newsletters there any more. I might keep doing the annual burst of ‘Get Dressed Ye Merry Gentlemen’ out of sentiment, and to keep the account from being removed; but basically, if someone posts on Twitter, and they’re not repeatedly assuring you that it’s Christmas Day, it’s not me.
The only reason I didn’t delete the account myself was precisely in case anyone ever tried this, but apparently they’re trying it anyway. Still, at least it gives me a chance to use one of my favourite genre of stock images: Hacker In A Hoodie.
The Perfect Crime
In fact, let’s just enjoy that illustration again, shall we?
Cheeky little scamp, giving us the old Eric Morecambe side-glance to camera as he goes about his deadly work. I bought this from a stock image site, and there were so, so many to choose from, except that they were all the same. The hoodie, in particular, is absolute standard issue for the stock photo hacker. They seem to be allowed a certain amount of leeway about whether or not they choose to work in a beanie, a mask, or a rainfall of ones and zeroes; but the hoodie is a must. No hoodie, no hacking. You have to have standards.
I chose this particular picture partly because the mask does actually look a bit like… well, ok, not me these days, but let’s say Arthur Shappey. But mainly, because I liked that the hacker has chosen to wear a little domino mask behind his other mask. That’s the level of safety-first professionalism you like to see in your hacker. On the other hand, if I had to criticise… I do wonder if he’s slightly compromised his good work by choosing an outer mask that looks exactly like him, only with slightly different hair and skin colour.
“Remember, kids! That boyish young man with floppy fair hair you THINK you’re talking to online might actually be a boyish young man with floppy light brown hair! To avoid this nightmare, always check for tanned hands. And for whether his face never changes expression, and appears to be looming six inches in front of his body. And hoodies, obviously.”
And now, as Thrifty Squadron go off to slip into their hoodies and get some work done, Spendy Squadron and I will step round the corner and encounter a box full of knives, a box full of comments, and of course the last puzzle on Love, The Airport; which as it happens is a box full of arrows. EDIT: And which I am delighted to discover is a relatively approachable one, so long as you like word puzzles.
Love,
The Airport