always
some
possible way. It might be an
improbable
way, or a way considered impossible, or implausible, or something else beginning with
im
.
For instance,
one
possible way springs immediately to mind and “immediately” begins with
im
. If we return once more to the contents of box 23. And had we been given access to the one on the chief constable’s high shelf in Brentford police station in May, nineteen fifty-five, we would have been able to read a statement placed there by a certain constable Adonis Doveston, which read thus:
I was proceeding in an easterly direction along Mafeking Avenue at eleven p.m. (2300 hours) on the 12th inst at a regulation 4.5 mph when I was caused to accelerate my pace due to cries of distress emanating from an alleyway to the side of number sixteen. I gained entry to said alleyway and from thence to the rear garden of number sixteen. And there I came upon Miss J. Turton in a state of undress. This state consisting of a brassiere with a broken left shoulder strap, a pair of camiknickers and one silk stocking. She was carrying on something awful and when I questioned her as to why this might be, she answered, “Why lor’ bless you, constable, but wasn’t I just whipped up out of me bloomin’ garden by a bloomin’ spaceship and ravished by the crew and when they’d had their evil way with me, then didn’t they just dump me back here without a by your leave or kiss my elbow.”
I later ascertained that this statement was not entirely accurate, in that Miss Turton had in fact had her elbow kissed, also her eyeballs licked and the lobes of her ears gently nibbled. I accompanied the lady into her back parlour, took off my jacket to put about her shoulders and was comforting her, prior to putting the kettle on, when her father returned, somewhat the worse for drink.
Would it be possible for me to have the Saturday after next off, as I am to be married?
A straightforward enough statement by any reckoning, a simple case of alien abduction, no doubt.
Or was it?
Behind this statement was stapled another statement and on this was scrawled a few lines, these being Miss Turton’s description of the alien crew:
Tall and blond, wearing grey uniforms with a double lightning-flash insignia and black jack-boots.
A description that would fit the dreaded storm troopers of Hitler’s
Waffen
SS. Those known as The Last Battalion.
Significant?
Not
significant?
Well, it’s bloody significant when viewed in the light of a certain scenario I am about to put forward, concerning how Adolf Hitler could turn up in Brentford in the nineteen nineties looking exactly the same as he did in World War Two.
You’ll kick yourself afterwards for not seeing how obvious it is.
It is a fact well known to those who know it well, that towards the end of the Second World War, the Nazis had all sorts of secret experimental research laboratories, working on all manner of advanced weaponry. And had they been able to hold out for a few more months they would have completed certain dreadful devices to wreak utter havoc upon the Allies.
One of these was the sound-cannon. A sonic energy gun constructed to project a low frequency vibrational wave that could literally shake apart anything within its path. Another was the
Flügelrad
(literally flying saucer), a discoid aircraft designed by Viktor Schauberger, powered by electromagnetic energy and capable of speeds in excess of 2000 km/hr. [13]
Let us take a trip back to one of those secret establishments, New Schwabenland in Antarctica, “somewhere due south of Africa”. The year is 1945 and a fleet of U-boats has just arrived, having come by way of Argentina. On board are crack troops known as The Last Battalion, a number of the highest ranking Nazi party members and a certain Mr A. Hitler esquire.
They enter a vast hangar affair where several
Flügelrads
and other state-of-the-then-art craft are in various stages of completion.
It is a little after
some
possible way. It might be an
improbable
way, or a way considered impossible, or implausible, or something else beginning with
im
.
For instance,
one
possible way springs immediately to mind and “immediately” begins with
im
. If we return once more to the contents of box 23. And had we been given access to the one on the chief constable’s high shelf in Brentford police station in May, nineteen fifty-five, we would have been able to read a statement placed there by a certain constable Adonis Doveston, which read thus:
I was proceeding in an easterly direction along Mafeking Avenue at eleven p.m. (2300 hours) on the 12th inst at a regulation 4.5 mph when I was caused to accelerate my pace due to cries of distress emanating from an alleyway to the side of number sixteen. I gained entry to said alleyway and from thence to the rear garden of number sixteen. And there I came upon Miss J. Turton in a state of undress. This state consisting of a brassiere with a broken left shoulder strap, a pair of camiknickers and one silk stocking. She was carrying on something awful and when I questioned her as to why this might be, she answered, “Why lor’ bless you, constable, but wasn’t I just whipped up out of me bloomin’ garden by a bloomin’ spaceship and ravished by the crew and when they’d had their evil way with me, then didn’t they just dump me back here without a by your leave or kiss my elbow.”
I later ascertained that this statement was not entirely accurate, in that Miss Turton had in fact had her elbow kissed, also her eyeballs licked and the lobes of her ears gently nibbled. I accompanied the lady into her back parlour, took off my jacket to put about her shoulders and was comforting her, prior to putting the kettle on, when her father returned, somewhat the worse for drink.
Would it be possible for me to have the Saturday after next off, as I am to be married?
A straightforward enough statement by any reckoning, a simple case of alien abduction, no doubt.
Or was it?
Behind this statement was stapled another statement and on this was scrawled a few lines, these being Miss Turton’s description of the alien crew:
Tall and blond, wearing grey uniforms with a double lightning-flash insignia and black jack-boots.
A description that would fit the dreaded storm troopers of Hitler’s
Waffen
SS. Those known as The Last Battalion.
Significant?
Not
significant?
Well, it’s bloody significant when viewed in the light of a certain scenario I am about to put forward, concerning how Adolf Hitler could turn up in Brentford in the nineteen nineties looking exactly the same as he did in World War Two.
You’ll kick yourself afterwards for not seeing how obvious it is.
It is a fact well known to those who know it well, that towards the end of the Second World War, the Nazis had all sorts of secret experimental research laboratories, working on all manner of advanced weaponry. And had they been able to hold out for a few more months they would have completed certain dreadful devices to wreak utter havoc upon the Allies.
One of these was the sound-cannon. A sonic energy gun constructed to project a low frequency vibrational wave that could literally shake apart anything within its path. Another was the
Flügelrad
(literally flying saucer), a discoid aircraft designed by Viktor Schauberger, powered by electromagnetic energy and capable of speeds in excess of 2000 km/hr. [13]
Let us take a trip back to one of those secret establishments, New Schwabenland in Antarctica, “somewhere due south of Africa”. The year is 1945 and a fleet of U-boats has just arrived, having come by way of Argentina. On board are crack troops known as The Last Battalion, a number of the highest ranking Nazi party members and a certain Mr A. Hitler esquire.
They enter a vast hangar affair where several
Flügelrads
and other state-of-the-then-art craft are in various stages of completion.
It is a little after
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