Monday, 28 November 2011

The Battle of Towering Electric Mongoose and Centipede

Towering Electric Mongoose advanced. Centipede snarled, spitting mucus from its furry mandibles. TEM rose up upon hind legs, iron claws protruding automatically from paws. Centipede whisked around in anger, hissing at his robotic antithesis.

Rupert Murdoch, from his womb of light perched high above the aggressors, barked orders at the many-legged arthropod of Hell. "Attack creature! Attack!" he spat feverishly, sensing his plan of world domination could be facing its only possible threat.

Centipede leapt into the face of TEM, causing the plucky machine to fall to the ground from his lofty perch. Wriggling in TEM's face, the centipede squirted venom through its forcipules into the eyes of my machine. TEM's jaw opened to utter a shriek of robot pain, its transistors fusing and causing smoke to emit from all of its orifices.

The wretch seemed all but done for, until it leapt up and flattened the squirming worm, gripping its spidery tendrils with all of its power. The spider which had given birth to this creature scampered about on Murdoch's back at the sight of this, in some disgusting satanic parody of maternal care. Murdoch screamed in horror as his creature was clutched by my wonderful metal mongoose.

But it was not yet over, for the centipede twisted and came out on top of my TEM. The giant two then rolled around in the dirt of the park, splashing through ponds and killing swans, destroying a bandstand and impaling an elderly lady on a pitchfork.

The two continued to roll in a terrifying death grip, thundering on towards the woods from whence the Centipede had originally emerged. As they tussled and fought for life - and each others death - they became submerged in the woods until the two fell out of sight and all became momentarily quiet.
Finally the Centipede rose from the woods, its back arched in fury as it pounced upon TEM as if for the final brutal kill. It disappeared again from view as the blow was made... all was silent. And then TEM rose, its eyes shining bright red, its forearms fully outstretched and gripping the Centipede in its powerful claws.

With the beast raised high in the air, TEM pulled the Centipede into two, its green fluids pouring down upon the park. It then devoured the Centipede, chewing heartily on its victim.

It was over. Or at least the threat of the Satanic Centipede was over. I still had to deal with my arch nemesis, Rupert Murdoch and his spider bride, the monster that was once Rebekah Brooks. Reaching from my window ledge, I picked up a sniper's pistol and raised it in the air as he hovered nearby.

"Your days are numbered, you fiend!" I called to the maniacal brute, who was staring towards the TEM masticating on his monster. I pulled the trigger, but instead of shooting Murdoch, it jammed. Murdoch flew towards me and hovered in my window.

"Ha ha ha! Stigwood you miss your chance, my friend!" he laughed, and he and his spider flew away into the horizon, leaving a trail of cheese-scented gas behind him.

As I watched his cheesy vapour trail evaporate, I wondered to myself when I would next encounter the evil of Rupert Murdoch. Sooner that I would like, that is for sure.


Saturday, 12 November 2011

Battle commences...

It was in the early hours of the morning that I was woken by a distant screaming. My eyes snapped open and I rushed to my window to set eyes upon my nemesis, for whom I had been preparing these past weeks in utter seclusion. However, whatever image I had prepared of my foe was incomparable to what lay before me then.

Looking across the Pinner Memorial Park which lay behind my boarding room, a gargantuan creature, perhaps 15 metres high, came crawling though the trees at the far end. It was a centipede of the genus Scolopendra Cingulata, with alternating bands of black and yellow gold across its back. It was crawling quickly upon its numerous yellow legs, feeling its way with pink antennae. As it progressed through the woods, it tore up and ate anything in its path, crunching whole trees in its elongated mandibles.

Alongside the centipede flew Rupert Murdoch, whose ancient imaciated body hovered high up in the air within a globe of glassy light which held him in the sky under his control, presumably via the wires that were protuding from his head. Clutching onto Murdoch's back was the orb-weaver spider which had given birth to the sickening multi-legged monstrosity that was now approaching the bandstand.

"Prostrate yourself before me and you may be spared!" barked Murdoch like some insane dictator. "You are all my subjects now, lie down before the terrible centipede!" While many ran away screaming, some did as they were bid by Murdoch and lay down, believing they were entering into some new world order, only to be gobbled up by the creature.

The time had come to find out whether my preparations would be fruitful. Taking up a remote control device, I pressed a switch. Many metres under the park, my machine began to burrow upwards towards the scene of mayhem. Finally my creation emerged from its hole - the Towering Electric Mongoose, or TEM for short. Thin and lithe, the 20-metre high robot bore the familiar characteristics of a mongoose - the scruffy-haired mammal that naturally preys on centipedes - but was created soley of metal by my genius hands.

The centipede turned and set eyes on the TEM and progressed to attack. It was to be a bloody battle...


Sunday, 30 October 2011

My work continues...

I lie here now on the floor of my paltry hotel room in Pinner, a tray of bread and beans a few inches from my right hand, a combination spanner clutched in my left. My eyes are itchy and bloodshot from the hours that I have spent here staring at the machine which I have been constructing since I arrived. 

My host, an ugly man with greasy hair named Rupert, bothers me with knocks upon my door as I try to go about my business. I realise that he wishes to know what causes the strange metallic thumps that he hears in the night, emanating from my door. 

If I were to tell him, I fear he would run screaming in terror from his home, to know what horror will soon alight upon this hitherto peaceful enclave. 

I have few other words to say, other than that I am aware that the time is drawing short, and I must continue for my work must be complete before the day arrives.

Friday, 28 October 2011

A room with a view

... Duly I awoke from this most delicious reverie to find that my mysterious attendee had instantly departed. I rose from my seat and walked briskly towards the exit, just as the mandrills sprung upon the serving boy and wrenched the gizzard from his neck.

The evening light was dusking as I walked down The Strand through the bustle of wenches, pederasts, ablutophobes, kanomaniacs, whores, pedlers, tapsters, scatomancers, virgins, traipsers and trawlers, bellygods, bastards, apes, idlomancers, rapers, morons, slavocrats, idolators and tapeworm-diners, broadsmen, didikkos, mandrakes, shofulmen and tea leaves, until finally I found that I had arrived at Bishopsgate Metropolitan railway station.

Entering the station, I handed over a penny to the man from the Metropolitan Railway, and boarded a standard gauge locomotive, taking a seat in a carriage next to a vicar and an elderly lady who was engaged in work upon a needlepoint cushion. Looking closely I noticed that the image she was creating was one of a man waiting outside a schoolyard with a gun. Noticing my interest, she smiled primly.

The train pulled into Pinner, and it was here that I disembarked, and quickly paced across the village green towards the high street. I found a lodging house and ventured inside, ringing the bell at the reception. A short ugly man walked in from an office and after some brief pleasantries I requested to take a room for the forseeable future, one that must have a north-facing aspect. He nodded in knowing accordance, and escorted me to a room. I immediately went to the window and found it to have a perfect view over the Pinner Memorial Park.

"I'll take it," I  told the fellow, and placed a rusty button in his hairy palm. He smiled inanely and left me to my business. And so it was that I began to plot my task in hand.

Monday, 17 October 2011

A meeting at The Grand Cigar Divan on The Strand

My rendezvous was to be in The Grand Cigar Divan on The Strand, where I was greeted by a towering doorman who with a single enormous hand smeared the venerable juices of the establishment across my face. He, I immediately recognised from a recent brannigan on the North End Road. He seemed not to betray any observable fear, despite the fact that I had witnessed the cur during a terrible bout of cynanthropy. I made a mental note to issue him with some black-mail as the deviant walked me to my table.

Taking my seat I surveyed the immeasurably cavernous dining room before me. The Grand Cigar Divan is decaying to the point where large areas have been fenced off due to sections of the wall having collapsed, allowing the stenchwater of The Thames to come lapping through the rubble. In the distance, an ageing gentleman waited patiently for his companion to take his turn at chess, not realising that the latter was a cadaver. Finally the former collapsed face down upon the board, at which a group of shrieking mandrills at a nearby table took their moment and tore the two limb from limb with their magnificent jaws.

It was as I observed this incident with a surge of scientific intrigue upon me, that my vision was suddenly obscured by a gentleman. Adjusting my focus, a man in a grey suit stood between myself and the mandrills. He walked slowly forward, past a serving boy carving a roast antelope, and stood some feet before me.

"Centipede reproduction does not involve copulation," he began sonorously. "Males deposit a spermatophore for the female to take up. In one clade, this spermatophore is deposited in a web, and the male undertakes a courtship dance to encourage the female to engulf his sperm. In other cases, the males just leave them for the females to find. In temperate areas egg laying occurs in spring and summer, but in subtropical and tropical areas there appears to be little seasonality to centipede breeding. It is also notable that there are a few known species of parthenogenetic centipedes..."

His grim, droning voice had a soporific effect upon my mind, which began to wander then fell into the lightest of slumbers. My mind became focused on the image of a decaying body lying at the bottom of a lift shaft. As I focused closer on this dream-image I noticed that the bloated carcass was dressed in the tousled garments of Friar Tuck.


Monday, 10 October 2011

A brief recap...

And so sirs, let us reconsider the activities that have brought our cast of actors to this juncture.

Having taken in a ginger-haired streetwalker by the name of Rebekah Brooks, I was surprised to discover she was still in the wage of her former paymaster, Rupert Murdoch. After I watched her walk into an alleyway where there was a peculiar interchange with a chameleon-like man, I had my barnacled chum Lumpy Pete follow her, and he did so all the way to the icy wastes of non-London. It was here that he observed her meet with Murdoch, after which she transformed into a gigantic orb-weaver spider and had sexual congress with a poplar-hawk moth, which had itself once been Nick Clegg.

I met with two of my fellow Devotees of Rakuu, who explained that the purpose of the inter-arthropod intercourse was for the spider to birth a giant centipede with which Murdoch could bring the civilised world to its knees. My spirit wife came to me a few nights ago, and during the first act of love we have experienced together since her death, she passed psychic images to me, revealing that the centipede (which appeared to be of the genus Lithobius forficatus) has already begun its inexorable journey towards London, to wreak certain destruction.

As you can see, dear readers, I am in a pretty pickle. I endeavour to save the world from this creature - but to do so, I must harness of all my powers of deduction, all of my years of anthropological learning, and of course my numerous experiences of slaughtering things that are different to me.

Lumpy Pete has arranged for me to meet a fellow scientist, an expert in matters of myriapoda - something of which I have only a cursory knowledge. Let us pray that the meeting will be useful.

Saturday, 8 October 2011

The final segment bears a telson

It was while which arched its legs around eating a banana, sleep and the house free, and, since flitting sunlight cascading across my face and dropped from my hand arms, how to of the moth Clegg, Rebekah has been absent from this house, and I have wandered this house wondering I lay in my robe, fell upon the body lying this evening upon he observed her turn into that huge monster of a spider my ottoman with the deal with this issue at hand, leading me finally to take my seat upon the ottoman where Lumpy out at some task me, and the banana and I clawed down towards me as if to draw me towards herself. Then she drawed down and enclose me, encase me in silken gripped and pulled aside and grasped and opened me and pulled my robe inside her deep dead hole and thrusting within and without as he dark ceiling aghast message seemed beaten into me as I lay there held in a delicate balance trying bright eyes flashed aside, legs to find my way out or my way in, grasping within and pulling staring she brought her shawled air aside she spread open for me and in it went glanced up and my girl, my former wife was there hanging above me, pale white and gripped back at me with her darling wet eyes and her arms icy cold into mine and a my stiff prick out, pulling it within her, as against the gaseous forms, her silken skin so skeined and drawn and into those arms it took, my she flashed me an wittling the caves of that deadness crawled an elongated creature, upon many legs she crawled, in disc-like structure with a central pore surrounded by sensory cells. Its shiny mandibles this vision, the crawling beast was yellow and segmented and a hugely away. Compound eyes staring…… An unusual sense organ found in some groups are the organs of Tömösvary. These are located at the base of the antennae, and consist of a glistened in the sunlight. Venom glands run itself a huge image of darkness tip of each forcipule. Venom glands run through a tube almost to the tip through a tube almost to the to the mouthparts. The creature scrabbled forward to London. reproductive organs. The digestive tract forms a simple tube, with digestive glands attached and holes thing with demented fury into the bright light, revealing claws CENTIPEDE which some twenty feet in length was scrabbling in fury venom where of each forcipule. The final segment bears a telson and includes the openings of the caves and deadness lies, and from that deadness, from scrabble crawling It was later waiting for Lumpy lay of drool "sunshine pallett".to return… collecting upon my naked and dissolate upon the hearthrug, a thick corpus after this aparition had passed that I felt what terror it is, this vision she gave me, and I