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Chemtrails
Chemtrails are the criss-crossed trails you sometimes see streaking across the skies.
There is considerable debate about their origin. At one end of the scale, you’ve got people insisting they’re just vapour trails from commercial jets — even though the criss-crossing might suggest a mid-air dogfight.
At the other end, conspiracy theorists suspect sinister Illuminati forces are dispersing chemicals to make humanity more docile and susceptible to their moustache-twirling schemes.
Both parties are incorrect.
Chemtrails are actually huge streaks of seasoning and tenderising agents, designed to make humanity more palatable to a race of alien food slobs from Sirius IV.
We are not yet seasoned to their satisfaction.
So the phenomenon continues.
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Chopper
Chopper is a quintessentially English word — short, punchy, and blessed with multiple meanings depending on the situation, context, and volume it’s shouted at.
-
A sack-happy boss
“I wouldn’t go whistling on a Tuesday if I were you, guv. Chopper Clark has ears everywhere.” -
An axe
Often employed in neighbourhood disputes over wayward trees, hedges, and boundary-pushing bushes. -
A helicopter
Frequently yelled in playgrounds and action films, usually accompanied by pointing or ducking. -
An infamous children’s bicycle
Known for its small front wheel, oversized back wheel, and banana seat long enough for a pillion passenger.
Famous for going arse-up the moment someone actually tried to use it as a two-seater. -
A nickname given to 1970s footballers
Especially those who viewed an opponent’s testicles as just another ball to be tackled.
(See also: Norman Hunter, Ron “Chopper” Harris.)
I think you missed one.
One of the numerous terms for the Male Appendage.
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Also a good film starring a non-green Eric Bana.
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A colloquial term given to work colleagues who do not measure up
John is an absolute chopper - no way I am letting him near my project
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Chemtrails
True story.
1993 landed in Dubai. Few weeks later mate dragged me to a rambling old villa to meet Bob & Michelle McGregor.
Retired civil servicey type.
They ran a PADI dive “school”. (See shark stories)
They were THE most wonderful people. We’d often just go round and hang on tge patio drinking beers listening to stories
Bob worked for a spin off from Porton Down his team actually worked the science that led to a device that could inject Diesel Oil into the exhaust of a Jet Engine.
To cause white smoke.
He actually had a book with photos of the team, they tested it in Kenya for some reason. It took some time to work out to use Diesel.
At the time I knew what jet they used and everything.
So yeah. I knew the guy who invented Chemtrails
As obviously his employer only wanted to invent the Red Arrows.
They were both the heart of the BSAC Dive Club, so many trips & memories.
Michelle developed Cancer of the Lymphnodes, she fought very hard and went into remission.
She volunteered to teach ex Mrs P_F & eldest - Daughter to dive. (The toughest student she ever had)
A few months later she was gone. A heartbresking time helping Bob with the paperwork and holding him one night as he cried I just want to take her home.
Bob retired to near Calne. Within a year big C had taken him too.
I guess today a copy of that book/story would be a goldmine for the tin foil brigade
RIP Bob & Michelle
Thanks for triggering the memories @pap
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Clitheroe
Historians will tell you that the word Clitheroe is derived from the Anglo-Saxon, and that it either means “rocky hill” or “hill by the rock.”
Local mythology differs.
Legend speaks of a certain Hurricane Tung.
There is only one surviving reference to Tung in the accounts of the day — a direct quote:
“I came, half the town came, and the town came to be known after me.”
Historians have never been able to decipher Hurricane Tung’s coded mystery.
Clitheroe might mean boulder on the hill.
Many folks missus’s (not mine obviously) have been disappointed that their men folks are shit map readers and dont know where the Clitheroe is
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Despite advanced map reading skills, I can’t quite put my finger on it.
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That is exactly what she said to my Granddad
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‘Keithy seems to have done himself a mischief’ is one of my favourite lines from cinema 
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Sorry, the one is a bit (alphabetically) out of order.
Chess
Chess has traditionally — and still remains — a game played on an 8×8 board, operating on a strictly limited grid system.
It’s not even true 2D.
But we let it go.
There is also nothing wrong with the term 3D chess. Even though it sounds a bit strange, most chess is played on a physical board with pieces you can view from any angle.
4D chess is what people say when they’re trying to explain someone’s actions but don’t actually know what the fuck is going on.
The term is thus used liberally by journalists and sports pundits.
It conveys nothing to the audience — except that the speaker has very little understanding themselves.
“The manager has subbed out the left back for a new, perfectly round player who looks light on his feet. Pure 4D chess, that.”
— sports commentator after seeing a balloon float onto the pitch
I have just bought a new crystal chess set to teach the grand children how to play with real pieces instead of looking at the I pad screen.
Christianity
There are plenty of people in the not-so-rare camp of not really being practising Christians, but thinking that following the example of Jesus — as a bloke — seems like a decent way to go.
Turn the other cheek. Love strangers like they’re your own brother. Help the unfortunate. There’s a lot of good stuff there. So what’s the problem?
One issue is that early Christians didn’t have a lot of material to work with. The New Testament covers less than a century. How was it ever going to stand up next to scriptures that began at the dawn of time?
The solution was to borrow heavily from the already-written — and often rather vengeful — Old Testament. They’re not alone in this; Islam did something similar, casting Jesus as a prophet rather than the Son of God.
Some traditions lean into the spirit of Jesus’ teachings. Others take the Bible in totality — contradictions and all — and treat every line as equally binding. That’s where things get complicated.
Personally, I don’t think Jesus was the son of God. But I do think his principles are worth living by.
Does that make someone a better or worse Christian than a regular churchgoer who skips the “love thy neighbour” bit?
It’s a fair question. As church attendance declines, those who remain often lean more intense — more charismatic, more certain, and occasionally, more cultish.
I’m fairly sure that’s not what Jesus had in mind.