The Pithlyiffion one of Naturer's Fantastic Beasts

The Pithlyiffion is a strange and wondrous beast indeed, one of the truly Fantastic beasts of history and one not to be trifled with (yes its one of those odd British sayings again) and one not to be put in a trifle either.  And its rather bizarre attributes were summed up in a poem by the great Samuel Taylor Coleridge that went as follows

Beware the Pithlyiffion, the strange and wondrous beast

Sitting high up in the Forrest trees

With its poisonous and deadly lick

And although it resembles some ancient mythical bird

It has a rather strange defensive trick

It falls to ground wrapped in its wings

Like a rather large house brick

Of course as you might expect of poems from the founder of the Romantic Movement, the poem goes on for at least half an hour and involves all sorts of things from seagulls and sailors to dancing with Victorian women in clearings in the woodland.  But the key points about the Pithlyiffion are well covered by this short extract.  You see the Pithlyiffion has a very poisonous lick indeed and although in general people recover, should you be unfortunate to be licked on a scratch or open wound then death is a distinct possibility. Some say that Coleridge had a pet Pithlyiffion and that it was to blame for his untimely death.

And as the poem says, despite the fact it has wings and does look like a bird its wings were made of an almost indestructible membrane which it would indeed wrap round its own body. In this way nothing could hurt it. It had no real enemies in nature, except the usual one mankind, who discovered that by boiling the beast for several hours it became an incredibly useful paste that could be used to seal the boilers of steam engines. What was unknown was that the Pithlyiffion only bred once every ten years and lived for almost two hundred years. So by 1873 with the loss of its breeding habitat in the wild the last Pithlyiffion died.  Unlike the Dodo which lent itself to being stuffed and displayed in a glass case, a popular Victorian pastime the Pithlyiffion once it died would turn to fine dust which would blow away in even the slightest of breezes. A fact that led to it becoming a creature of legend rather than fact. There are some who say the dust from the body of a dead  Pithlyiffion has substantial magic powers and that many of the legends of magic from mans history are the result of this, but we will probably never know for sure.  All we can say is that it must have been a truly fantastic Beast.       

The delemma of the Master Criminal

Maharajah Raj Ranbir Singh lives quietly in his house in Knightsbridge, it is not a small house in fact it is a huge house bought by his family just after the war for a modest sum. Its Victorian Gothic façade restored many years ago, its garden sprawling over two to three acres is almost entirely unknown to the majority of Londoners. And despite efforts by many to entice the Maharajah to sell some of the land for huge sums of money he has always rejected all approaches as he has a temple in the grounds that he allows Sikhs to visit on a regular basis.  And of course the garden has many secrets that the Maharajah is happy to keep secret.

You see although a quiet and humble man of peace the Maharajah has his own dark secret unknown to the world. He is what would be termed a master criminal these days, but he is not the sort of master criminal that most people would think of. He would never use violence or destroy or break things to achieve his ends because he is after all a Sikh Maharajah and it is important to comply with the principles of his beliefs.

He has conducted many spectacular and cunning crimes around the world that have left the authorities both perplexed and puzzled with no clues where to start their investigation. Crimes such as the Ghost Train Incident of 1973 where an entire London underground train vanished from the Circle Line never to be seen again.   There was the theft of several Crowns from the Tower of London, a crime that has still not been admitted too by the British government. And then of course there was the very odd case of the theft of over one thousand flamingos from London Zoo and two Elephants.  And at least one very large Swiss bank has lost huge amounts of gold as well as a number of paintings and bronzes by some of the greatest artists of history.

Of course as Maharajah Raj Ranbir Singh gets older he has pondered many times the dilemma of committing the perfect crimes knowing that he was never suspected. And this is the great paradox of being the perfect master criminal; no one knows you are a master Criminal.  Some folk may have suspected over time but it was always a passing thought.  After all the lake surrounding the sheikh temple has a huge flock of flamingos on it as well as two Indian Elephants. And the Marinara’s garden pavilion is a converted London Tube train full of jewels and many exotic things.

So how do I know this you ask, well I was having a long philosophical discussion with the Maharajah admiring this rather good copy of the Mona Lisa, (which looks just like the real thing to me) about how we perceive our fellow man based on the fact we only know a small amount of what each of us think and do.  And the Maharajah was explaining the dilemma of achieving these things but being unable to tell anyone.

Of course I have explained to Maharajah Raj Ranbir Singh that his secret is safe with me and no one will ever know. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .AH DAMN

At least I did not mention the eight lost Fabergé Eggs and the Amber Room . . . .PHEW.

Here where has my watch gone. . . . . 

The tale of Badger Hopson. . .The King of the Skies

A short story for Mr Squid McFinnigan

Badger Hopson had always wanted to be a pilot ever since he was knee high to a grasshopper and spent many a happy hour forging his pilots licence and flying history so that he could get a job. He dreamed of flying shiny posh passenger planes across the Atlantic into Europe so that he could chase women, gamble and drink and stub his cigarettes out on the heads of European cats. . . He hated cats.  

Badger even supplied his own outfit and to tell the truth that was his downfall. You see he bought it in an old Army surplus store and although there was no denying it was warm and cosy it was not exactly the image Pan-Am or any of the other airlines were looking for. Poor old Badger hit the bottle hard for a time and threw all the empties at unsuspecting passing cats, who would scurry off and then leave dead mice in his boots for revenge.

Then one day when the winter winds were at there worst, not that it worried Badger Hopson, he was no fool he had bought the flying suit with the heated boots and double knit thermal underwear. (Hang on I got distracted there . . . back to the point). . . Yes one day in the wild winters wind an old mate said he had heard of a flying job going with the US MAIL and it looked just the job.  Well this was exciting news for Badger and he quickly applied and was interviewed and surprisingly got he job. In fact for the first time ever they said they were very impressed with his flying outfit and that it was exactly what they were looking for.

So it was that Badger Hopson became King of Skies and got to fly his faithful but knackered Douglas DAKOTA C-47 / DC-3 transport aircraft delivering mail to Anchorage Alaska three times a week.  He did get to chase women, gamble and drink but there were no cats just Polar Bears and that of course was his final downfall, because you should never stub your cigarette out on the head of a Polar Bear.  Amazingly he survived the attack saved by the padding of his flying suit, and the electric shock the bear got from chewing his battery powered heated boots. But with one arm, one leg and one ear he was classed as unfit for flying and pensioned off.

He was however a content man, not many folk can say they have flown to Alaska in an old Dakota drunk, gambled, chased women and put their cigarettes out on the heads of Polar Bears. So he settled down, got married and told of his many adventures as the King of the Skies. Making a few extras up to impress the kids, his old flying suit now chopped up and turned into a stuffed Python for reasons that are far to complex to explain here.        

A Fairy Tale about Politics and Pointy Sticks

A fairy tale

Once upon a time there was a princess who lived high in the mountains in a posh castle and did many things for the people of the kingdom, she was quite left wing which is rather unusual for a princess and she did many good deeds, like make sure all the children in the kingdom had school books and were looked after. Then one day the King (her father) increased the taxes and there was much grumbling and discontent. The princess was not happy, what with being a bit of a lefty and the like so went off to see the king in his private chambers.

Why have you put up the taxes she asked as she entered adding AND what is that THING?

AH yes its my new 58inch television with a 3d option and cinema quality surround sound . . . its well cool.

Well I hope you have not put up the taxes to pay for that monster of a television said the princess

MMMM well it was very expesive you know replied the king

A few days later when the princess was in town she met Mr Larkin the Butcher and she told him that her father (the King) had spent all the taxes on a huge new television.  Mr Larkin was not happy and shouted leapt about and moaned and said he would lead the masses to form a free independent state. Then when she got home she told the King (her father) that she had told Mr Larkin all about the television and he was talking of forming an independent state. The King was not happy and he shouted leapt about and moaned, but he did then say he would reduce the taxes if it was making life difficult for folk and he was not keen on the idea of a folk forming a new independent state  

The following day the princess went into town to tell Mr Larkin the good news because she was also not keen on the idea of independence either.  Knocking on his door she got no response, but she could hear the voice of a man who sounded just like that Jeremy Clarkson chap from off the tele. Keen to pass on the good news to Mr Larkin she entered the house and found Mr Larkin sat in front of a new 58inch television with a 3D option and cinema quality surround sound.

AH he said I know I said times are hard but it is a very good television and I added a few pence onto the price of sausages so folk never noticed anyway.  

As the princess left she met several of the local villagers and told them all about Mr Larkin (the leader of the Independent Movement) and how he had increased his prices to buy a huge new 58inch television with a 3D option and cinema quality surround sound, and they all shouted and leapt about.

As darkness fell that night there were folk shouting at Mr Larkin and folk shouting at the King and the King was shouting at Mr Larkin who was shouting at him and folk said it was all the princesses fault for being on the political left when she should know her place as one of the well off elite and that no good comes of trying to help folk. Some folk were still demanding independence and some wanted a 58inch television too.

Meanwhile the princess had gone into the forest to stab a pointy stick into a large wasps nest, she did this sometimes because she always said no one is perfect. As the wasps swarmed and flew about manically being grumpy and shouting she headed off home past all the grumpy folk shouting at each other and running about manically. Smiling to herself as she watched the fleeing massed crowds flapping their arms about and running as fast as they could from an angry swarm of wasps. The princess you see was a very good princess but she did have a bit of a devilish streak in her and could never resist prodding things with a pointy stick. Well we all like pointy sticks don’t we.

The End