2084

2084

Rohan Canney stretched his feet out in front of him as he glanced about the spacious chamber he was seated in. 

He casually turned his shoulder and head to one side and located the holographic video player in a large recess in the wall. He started to flick through images and tunes in his brain and soon selected, via a synaptic link to the holographic player, the tune of his choice.

A couple of milliseconds later the room was full with the crash and bash of a classical El Barrone track.

 The riotous guitar riffs thrashed about the room as Rohan Canney and his fellow music enthusiasts closed their eyes and recoiled in the joy of listening to the classical tunes of their great grandfather’s youth.   

The group of teenagers had known each other for many years, as had their collective fathers and grandfathers before them. The music had a special empathy for Raj Barron as his great grandfather had compiled the classical track that they were listening to, almost one hundred years earlier.

 Indeed the centenary of the “Great Leap of Faith and Change” was almost upon the nineteen year old's, and all were happily planning how they would enjoy the three day holiday, after attending the Church, Mosque and Temple. 

The melodious cacophony was interrupted when Alexei Brown entered the room with Marik Mosley, Ajit Artimarti and Mohinderjit Doyle. They stood before the seated incumbents and held out in front of them an old plastic container which appeared to hold a tape like substance. After a number of suggestions, Raj Barron decided that it must be an ancient artifact that was believed to have been called a Cassette Tape or Video tape.

 After flicking through the reference books located in their collective minds, it was soon decided that the article was a video cassette. Mohiderjit Doyle remembered that he had seen an old Video player in his families vaulted tomb, and soon they were all in the Highgate cemetery Complex gathered around the antique object.

Rohan Canney pulled a small battery pack from his hip pocket and placed the old plug in to the multiple socket provided with the novelty battery pack. Soon the old machinery was humming in to life, and the tape was carefully slotted in to the machines gaping orifice.

All stood back as a strange scene began to play in front of the startled ensemble.

A sweeping view of a London street was playing on the ancient recorder, and the huddled mass could not believe their eyes as the local populace went about their way.  To the amazement of them all, the faces were white, black or brown and dressed in obsolete western clothing. 

They had all heard the strange and unsettling stories that the peoples of England were not only white, but a mixture of races, but most who heard this blasphemy dismissed it immediately. But there in front of them was the truth.

A multi ethnic and multi cultural society that had existed prior to the “Big Change”.

A cine film originally created in 1975 and later transferred to video tape confirmed the joyous truth.

The ancestors of each and every member of the gang of teenagers were white, black and brown and had carried their various heritages through their blood lines and that of their wives and girlfriends culminating in the coffee coloured race that now flourished throughout Europe and the United States in the year 2084.

Shocked they all returned to their music room and after passing round a strong round of Large Vodka and Orange, saluted their ancestors and drunk themselves in to a stupor and then gentle sleep, dreaming of the strange world their great great grandfathers had occupied in the distant 1970's, 80's and 90's. 

  

BREXIT OUTRAGE - DRIVER CHARD BLAMES ENGLAND EURO 2016 MISS-FIRE ON UK BREXIT CAMPAIGN

BREXIT OUTRAGE -  DRIVER CHARD BLAMES ENGLAND EURO 2016 MISS-FIRE ON UK BREXIT CAMPAIGN

Disenchanted former Chairman and President  of the Duck Flat Cap Society, Driver Chard of El Hadj Duif, has exploded in rage at England’s latest flop at Euro 2016.  

His face purple with rage, the octogenarian firebrand explained that the pathetic performance in Saint-Etienne was due to the disgraceful Brexit campaign being conducted throughout the width and breadth of the UK.

 Interviewed at Chard Towers , the former head of the grandest Flat Cap Society in Europe berated the Brexit campaigners and threatened to ex-communicate all “Out” voters in the up and coming vote on the UK remaining in the European Union.  

More in due course following an extraordinary meeting of the Brexit sub-committee of the Duck Flat Cap Society at the Duck tomorrow.

R.I.P   JOHN CHARD 1933 - 2020   

THE MITRE MURDER MYSTERY - PART 1 (TEDS DEAD)

THE MITRE MURDER MYSTERY  -   PART 1 (TEDS DEAD)

It was a little after midday and the smell of stale piss pervaded the atmosphere of the dingy downstairs room. Old “Pa Bumfold” crossed his legs but failed to stop the emission flowing from his fetid soiled undergarments. 

Placing both hands on the filthy armchair he levered himself to his feet and shuffled towards the kitchen back door and the sanctuary of the brick outhouse, unfortunately situated in the back yard of the Victorian terraced property.

After a ten minute session in the putrid latrine and doing the paperwork with an old copy of the Radio Times, Pa Bumfold shuffled back in to the kitchen, where he was immediately set upon by his deranged octogenarian wife Gloria, a failed gymnast and part time exhibitionist from Kilburn. She managed to wrap here spindly legs around his neck by leaping from the kitchen table and slowly began to squeeze the life out of her befuddled husband.

A loud knock at the front door interrupted the comic grappling in the kitchen, and both made their way to the hallway and front door, where the unmistakable shadow of a policeman was viewed through the tinted glass panel in the door. 

Old Pa Bumfold, whose face was still puce from the near strangling his wife had administered, turned the latch and opened the door, fully expecting the old bill to nick him for his ungentlemanly conduct in the Mitre public house the previous night, when he had farted in the face of the opposing darts teams captain.

However, after removing his helmet, the constable explained that during recent excavations so as to facilitate the building of a new sports centre at Vale Farm, on the site of the existing open air swimming pool, they had unearthed a skeleton of a deformed dwarf like creature with missing teeth, broken wire rimmed spectacles, a curved spine and a silver bracelet on his lower arm depicting the name “Ted”. 

Furthermore, due to the boggy nature of the soil, part of the creature’s skin had been preserved and upon it was a child like tattoo describing the name “Ted” in blue ink. However, the PC also stated that unusually for such cases, the skull was missing and was presumed to have been disturbed by animals but would no doubt be found in due course.

 Old PA Bumfold and Gloria shuddered at this news as both glanced at the skull like feature on the sideboard across the other side of the lounge. The constable went on to explain that he was calling on all the properties in the vicinity of the adjacent Mitre pub, to ask if they had any knowledge of a missing person named Edward or Ted. Sobering up fast, both the geriatric Bumfold's stated that they knew of no missing people named Ted, Edward or any other name.  

The PC made a quick scribble in his notebook and made his exit. Pa Bumfold pulled a tin of old holborn from his pocket and started to role a cigarette and was soon coughing and blowing his way across the room towards the cranium shaped feature placed on the middle shelf of the dilapidated sideboard. Holding the skull like ornament in both hands he briefly smiled before placing the object d'art back on to its plinth.

Old Pa Bumfold scratched his head and without saying a word opened the front door and ambled towards the bus stop where after exchanging a few words with a gangling youth climbed aboard the bus, drawing hard on his  roll up and blowing filthy smoke at the peroxide clippy as she gave him his ticket.

To be continued............ 




 

DOCTOR DOYLE AND THE MUNICH HORN - PART 3 "KNOBLAUCH"

 DOCTOR DOYLE AND THE MUNICH HORN - PART 3  "KNOBLAUCH"

Exiting the pink Mercedes taxi cab driven by a leather clad lesbian dwarf, Dr Doyle and his associate strode in to the bar eagerly awaiting their first alcoholic drink of the day.

In their boyish enthusiasm they both missed the smiling Karl Heinz–Brunner seated on a large leather sofa next the raging open fire. Brunner nuzzled a large glass of brandy against his upper lip so as to sniff the pungent aroma of the vintage cognac. In his hands was the latest edition of “Club Antiquity Deutsche”, a publication that unknown to its loyal readership was utilised by “The Sacred Sarcophagus” to send encrypted messages to its agents. 

Brunner had picked up his copy of the magazine the previous morning from the news stall outside his Berlin apartment, and had immediately noticed the encoded massage confirming that Dr Doyle was to be in Munich today and that he was searching for the Munich Horn.  Wasting no time, he boarded the next train for Munich and was booked in to a small hotel opposite the bar. It was easy for Brunner to anticipate where Dr Doyle would be found after his mission, as he was well aware of his sexual deprivations, in particular his need to be pleasured by leather clad bi-sexual lesbian dwarfs, and that he would visit the Brothel situated on the first floor of the premises.  

At the bar, Dr Doyle and Ivan Terrablanche were drinking large steins of larger and anticipating a couple of hours debauchery on the first floor, when the corpulent and thick necked Doctor noticed Brunner in a reflected image thrown from his zipper lighter. Doyle turned to face his giant companion and grabbing a pen from his pocket scribbled a quick note on a napkin and passed it to Terrablanche to read. Terrablanche responded by speaking slowly but determinedly in Afrikaans, hoping that Brunner would not understand the conversation.

Knowing that Dr Doyle was fluent in the language, Terrablanche quickly turned to face his foe and simultaneously fired his semi-automatic weapon at the seated Brunner. Dr Doyle had acted as directed and had thrown himself to the floor turning a table over with him to use as protection from any returned gunfire. 

Unfortunately for Doyle and Terrablanche, Brunner was himself fluent in Afrikaans and had bolted from his position moments before the bullets began to fly from the South Africans Luger. Knowing that Brunner would not be alone, the pair quickly exited the building in an opposite direction from the escaping Nazi, and commandeered a large black BMW to make their getaway. Pushing the frightened female owner from the car, they jumped in and accelerated in a south-westerly direction towards a safe house located near to the Swiss border. 

The light was fading fast as they drove over the river Isar and then headed for the sanctuary of the safe house on the outskirts of Friedrichshafen, where they hoped to board a small fishing boat, row across lake Constance (Bodensee) to enter neutral Switzerland, and eventually fly back to the UK with the Munich Horn. 

As they approached the small farmhouse on the banks of Lake Constance they turned off the headlights and coasted to a stop by a large dilapidated barn. 

Two hundred yards behind them, a large battered Mercedes glided to a silent stop.

 

DOCTOR DOYLE AND THE MUNICH HORN - PART 2 "BOTSCHAFTER"

DOCTOR DOYLE AND THE MUNICH HORN - PART 2  "BOTSCHAFTER"

Dr Doyle and Ivan Terrablanche strode purposely away from Munchen Hauptbahnhof and quickly made their way to the Neues Rathaus in Marienplatz.  After checking their watches and making sure they were not being being followed, they edged past the neo-gothic building and made their way to the sanctuary of Peterskirche. 

The snow was now falling quicker and heavier and both were grateful when a side door next to the nave opened and a priest beckoned them in to the warmth of the church. 

Terrablanche gripped the hand of the white robed cleric and shook it vigorously. After recovering his hand, the priest walked them across the choir and down a couple of steps until they stood in front of a marble crypt inscribed in Latin and Germanic script. Dr Doyle quickly noticed the inscriptions on the tomb from an earlier encounter with Kahrl Heinz-Brunner, when he prevented the Nazi scholar from removing a sacred challis from a comparable crypt in Aachen. 

The similar but subtly different tomb was one a series of memorials dedicated to Frederica Barbarossa, also known as Frederick 1^st of Germany, Holy Roman Emperor and within the German speaking world “Kaiser Rotbart”.  


The priest passed a sealed envelope to Dr Doyle who ripped open the seal and started to ingest the words before him. Although written in code, he soon realised that the Munich Horn was in fact a drinking horn that had been used by Barbarossa between 1122 and 1190 and again used by Frederick the Great, many centuries later. Barbarossa had in fact stolen the Horn from St Peters in Rome when he and his troops sacked Rome during the conquest of Italy and the Papal authorities had themselves been searching for the artifact ever since.  

The note further explained that in German mythology, Barbarossa was also known as the “Sleeping Hero” and that in Germany’s darkest hour he would awake from his slumber and once he had taken ein trinken from the Horn would lead the nation to a victory over who ever threatened the Fatherland.

This was a surprise to Dr Doyle as when he left England for Munich, he had been advised by his handlers that the Horn was a code name for a device that can pick up radio signals from the allies and break any code or encryption through a refraction of musical notes. This was now proven incorrect and Dr Doyle and the priest laughed at the incredibility of the presumed meaning of the Munich Horn.

Soon the marble structure was being edged away from its plinth through the brute force of Ivan Terrablanche and a crow bar, and slowly a gap was appearing that hinted at something stored beneath the memorial.  A few moments later the Doctor was holding a golden Horn inscribed with Saxon and Latin inscriptions.

The Horn was remarkably light and had been damaged; no doubt during a roaring drinking session after Barbarossa looted the Horn from Rome. The priest handed Dr Doyle a leather pouch which he carefully placed the object within.  Thoughts now turned to escaping from the Bavarian City without capture.  With this in mind, Dr Doyle and Ivan Terrablanche crept out of the crypt and although the snow storm was now a full blizzard headed towards the embankment of the river Isar.

Reaching the river they both untied a waiting rowing boat and swiftly rowed their way up river. After a couple of miles they disembarked and hailed a cab and headed for the Bahnhof where they hoped to catch a train to neutral Switzerland and safety.  

However, Dr Doyle's mind turned to an earlier trip to the city and the delights that he has sampled in the local stews and brothels.He licked his chapped lips and stroked his fat neck as he remembered the leather clad Lesbian Fraulein he used to visit on a daily basis, and although he overweight corpulent body would have trouble in raising his own Horn, he quickly beckoned to Terrablanche to follow him away from the station and back to the city center.

Unknown to them, Kahrl Heinz-Brunner sat silently drinking a stein of lager as he awaited their appearance in the dingy cellar at 15 Ausberg Strasse .