Picts have invaded Scurveyshire and carried the park bench off to Portugal. But now Lord Jeremy Coldsore, justice of the peace, has much bigger fish to fry. So says author Violet Crepuscular, The Queen of Suspense, introducing Chapter DCCIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney.
What are those bigger fish?
“They keep spelling my name as ‘Clodsore,'” Lord Jeremy complains.
And! Inspired by the success of the Pictish raid, a mad scientist is trying to breed giant chameleons. It’s a hush-hush project. Lord Jeremy Clodsore would shut it down if he only knew about it. (Oops!) So far he’s only succeeded in raising sickly-looking lima beans. He hasn’t succeeded at all in finding any wild chameleons here in Britain.
“In writing any kind of suspense literature,” Ms. Crepuscular flosticates, “sooner or later the writer will find herself in need of giant chameleons. You can run from this, but you can’t hide!”
“Here,” she adds, “we mark the return of Constable Chumley, who for a time found himself locked in a neighbor’s outhouse. He has used the opportunity to write a sonnet.
“I have been asked not to publish the constable’s poem, entitled ‘Yon Farthy Mickle Chalkly’.” she confides in the reader. “It’s a serious conflict for me! Maybe I’d better let my readers, worldwide, decide the issue for me.”
We can’t wait.
“In writing any kind of suspense literature,” Ms. Crepuscular flosticates, “sooner or later the writer will find herself in need of giant chameleons. You can run from this, but you can’t hide!”
Wow! Now that is a great truth if I’ve ever seen one.