Well, bless my spiritually-interpreted neural macro-pattern! I appear to have been awarded the Nobel prize for Poppycock, for my work on cultivation of very spiky, luminous and hardy flowers to grow in pavement cracks, preventing pedestrians from stepping on them and thus reducing the annual count of ursine predation events. In recognition of this momentous event, I have decided to name the flowers, which are genetically engineered of course, Cockpoppies. I must say this is such a great honour! The award ceremony is in July, so there will be plenty of time to grow my original head back after my brief role as an extra in the virtual retro B-movie It Came From Earth! (in which I play an unsuspecting redshirt from Tau Ceti and die in the first 15 minutes, but hey, it's still fame!).
So anyway, back to the humdrum world of my personal projects, and the total conversion bomb is coming along nicely in the back garden. Fortunately, the landlord doesn't suspect anything: he thinks I'm building an amateur radio. His life will be spared when I am emperor of the universe.
