The Cat Wore Electric Goggles
[Absolutely NOT about cats!]
Twelve mildly amusing fictions in vague science from an old-fashioned English gentleman. Dashed splendid adventure with some gentle medieval scifi, proper old-style rocket ships, an alien invasion of England, secret government satellites crashing and releasing stockpiled dinosaur DNA, some insane Cold War time travel, groovy Victorian orang-utans in space, the televising of England’s first Moon landing, a very rude first contact, young Mr Darwin’s explanation of evolution placed in startling juxtaposition to flora and fauna on a distant planet, one or two maritime ghosts, a terrifying new virus and a detective with a very serious career problem. I refrain for obvious reasons from mentioning here the elderly ladies in fur bikinis, and the least said about the Austin-Morris Motor Car Company’s robotic labour relations the better. Suffice it to say that the man from the past isn’t happy, and all’s well that ends well (although not much does end well).
You won’t be a better person for having read this collection, but you will have a very respectable frown and a ruddy good permanently raised eyebrow under which to secure your monocle. Life is such utter nonsense.
The Cat Wore Electric Goggles *
One Saturday, Almost 2,000 Years A.D. **
VTC = 1:1 +/- H times ATP
The Improvement Engine
One Small Step for Ma’am, One Giant Leap for Ma’amkind
The Unfortunate Fatal Incident at 7 AU
Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright
Shall I be Mother?
The Especial Relevance of Cowpats
You fools! You fools! You insensible fools!
The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth
The Almost Omnipresent Omniscient Monks
This is a blathering collection aimed directly at your brain-gland’s sense of humour. It’s all dreadfully civilised nonsense, and not at all serious. The science is improbable, the history inaccurate, the plots farcical and the fiction stretched to the limit of suspended disbelief. Ten words are used throughout where one might have sufficed because, well – language is there to be used, not to be throttled into extinction.
Scientific science fiction this isn’t and space-opera is a term that simply doesn’t apply here. This 100,000 word anthology is the complete antithesis of glitzy Hollywooden sci-fi. It is tongue-in-cheek England-centric recent future history as it never was, as it never would be. It’s pure escapism, with tea and good manners.
No sex, no endless stream of gratuitous violence, and the only really unpleasant moment is when an especially-stupid Labrador dog is space-sick in his goldfish bowl helmet. Chin-chin, tickettyboo, and do please smoke me a kipper – I’ll be back in time for a cold G&T as the sun sinks over the last myths of the British Empire.
The Model-T Virgin
Begging Your Pardon, My Lord, But Cook’s Been Eaten Again
Robots Knitting With Rubber Needles
Je Pense It’s All Going Very Bien
Footloose, En Pas De Basque
In Which Mr Cadwallader Shampoos His Parrot In The Rain Using Some Very Dated Popular Science
Diary Of A National Service Chap
Blood-Curdling Screams And The Whitworth Screw-Thread
The Day The Earth Took Tea