Sherlock was a modernising of the Sherlock Holmes stories apart from the one that wasn’t. It used to be really good and clever. But the last episode tried to be too clever and was just an utter pile of tosh.Wherever it's from, the art director wasn't inspired by Victorian style manicures.
My brother went on a business trip to (IIRC) Brighton one year (late 80s?) and when he got to the Bed & Breakfast early evening there was no answer at the door, so he left his suitcase in the entrance/porch thing, and went off into town for something to eat and have a beer.
When he returned a couple of hours later he found the road sealed off by Police and there was a UXB unit in attendance, rolling out one of those little tracked vehicles to deal with a bomb.
So he hung around for a while hoping to get to his B&B soon, but then realised that the focus of the attention was the same place.
After speaking to one of the coppers he found out that they were treating a suitcase as a suspicious item.
My brother had to sheepishly inform them that that was his suitcase and all that was in it was some toiletries, a couple of changes of underwear and his suit, shirt and tie.
I've been there too....many moons ago. I had absent-mindedly left an unmarked satchel containing three ring binders of my (unduplicated, irreplaceable) college project work in a certain location totally obliterated by a Bomb Disposal mini-tank robot thing (the kind that fires shotgun cartridges at a range of zero feet).He returned to the hotel after a look round Boringtown to find his charred chuddies hanging from a tree outside the hotel, above the smouldering remains of his case, the whole tableau being surrounded by pissed-off EOD wallahs
as:when someone's Lunch box and Trumpet case
Trump's Lunch-box is a case for someone
I read Trevs post and was reminded of an incident in the late 80s at Empress state building when someone's Lunch box and Trumpet case were spotted in a vehicle in the car park, deemed suspicious and subject to a controlled explosion. ...
I've been there too....many moons ago. I had absent-mindedly left an unmarked satchel containing three ring binders of my (unduplicated, irreplaceable) college project work in a certain location totally obliterated by a Bomb Disposal mini-tank robot thing (the kind that fires shotgun cartridges at a range of zero feet). ...
Sorry but me being me I could not have resisted pointing out the woman and loudly proclaiming "ooh look they're blowing up that woman's bag".I thought I'd confessed this admittedly deliberate passive withholding of aid to a fellow passenger before, but I can find no trace of having done so.
It was the very late Eighties or early Nineties. I was living in Sweden and flying back to the USA on SAS. Our flight out of Stockholm stopped in Copenhagen for airliner clean-out and prep for the transatlantic leg of the flight. All passengers were instructed to debark to the gate's passenger lounge and take all carried-on bags and other possessions with them for what was expected to be a 30-minute wait before re-boarding and continuing on our way.
One of my fellow passengers was a middle-aged woman who'd already begun to grate heavily on my nerves. She was one of those folks who dresses up in a gaudy fashion (designer outfits, excessive array of jewelry) to travel, and her loud motor-mouth continuously spewed her self-certified authoritative comments and opinions to whomever was unlucky enough to be around her.
Largely motivated by a desire to be as far away from Ms. Chatterbox as possible, I took up a standing position at the large plate glass window overlooking our airliner. I watched as a flock of motorized carts parked around our plane and cleaning crews scurried on board.
In the background Ms. Chatterbox was railing about all the inconvenience and bother. She mentioned being slightly offended about having to lug her carry-on bag off the plane during the maintenance stopover, and noted she'd not been bothered to bring her bag with her.
That's about the time I saw all the cleaning personnel evacuate the plane and one of them use a walkie-talkie. Very soon a second motorized cart rushed to the scene carrying people in police-style uniforms. These folks entered the plane and exited after only about a minute inside.
Another motor-cart pulled up carrying a guy wearing a bomb disposal suit, who conferred with the others and entered the plane. The police-garbed folks waved at the cleaning personnel to leave the immediate area, and they retreated.
In no more than a couple of additional minutes the bomb guy appeared at the plane's door holding at arms' length an elaborately decorated designer satchel matching the baroque design motif of Ms. Chatterbox's purse.
I could feel my lower face shifting into a Disaster Girl evil smile ...
The innocent voice from my right shoulder gasped, "Oh no! Surely not!"
The evil voice from my left shoulder said, "None of your business. It's all on that blathering ninny Ms. Chatterbox. None of your concern."
The Right Voice: "If you were to hurriedly notify the airline personnel at the desk you might prevent ..."
The Left Voice: "Never obstruct the karmic forces; never interfere with the dispensing of an important life lesson."
Me: "Shut up, the both of you! The bench rules in favor of the Voice Sinister on the grounds of principle."
The bomb guy gingerly placed the bag on an otherwise empty baggage cart at the rear of a baggage train, took his place at the driver's seat of the train's baggage tug, and drove away toward the grassy infield on the other side of the tarmac. He drove onto the grass and parked beside a crater-like pit in the ground I hadn't noticed before. He then took the bag and carefully carried it down into the pit, which was deep enough that only the tip-top of his headgear - if anything - was visible. When he'd emerged from the crater / pit he walked a few yards away and signaled to one of the police types, who was holding a sizable controller style device. The police type manipulated the controller thingie, and ...
There was more of a 'thud' than a 'boom', and a puff of smoke rose from the crater / pit.
The other police types had entered the plane during this procedure. They emerged, signaled to the cleaning / maintenance personnel who'd withdrawn to some distance, and left as the crews re-entered the plane.
It was all I could do to stifle a laugh, so I calmed down by drifting over to the refreshment table provided us for a morning pastry and some good coffee.
Sorry but me being me I could not have resisted pointing out the woman and loudly proclaiming "ooh look they're blowing up that woman's bag".
…a new system that includes cataloguing all the chemicals so that we know what we've got.
You joke, sir, but that's not far off the truth!And that’s the “new system”, is it? One dreads to think what the “old system” was like:
“I’m almost sure that we had some strychnine. Have you checked the fridge in the staff canteen? No, wait: lt might be in the jar labelled Sugar in the break room…”
I think you’re a bloody jinx!Chatting to a friend earlier about terrorist threats (as you do) and he reminded me how often I've come within the proximity of terrorist actions.
In the late 80's I spent a fortnight at the Sahara Beach hotel in Monastir, Tunisia with the ex Mrs SHS and a month or so after we'd been there it was bombed. Then in 2005 I was on my way to a business meeting when the Tavistock Sq bomb went off on 7/11 about a quarter of a mile from me (heard the blast). In 2010 I was in Times Sq in NY when a bomb was left in a car that failed to detonate and in 2015 I drove through the town of Banning, California around 15 minutes before a guy opened fire on random strangers, killing two and injuring several more.
Hoping nothing else happens but people are starting to get a bit wary of travelling with me