Last Train to Clarkesville

Well, this is a backblip, a proper backblip.....

not some half assed backblip from a couple of days ago, not even an ill judged and slightly forgotten backblip of two weeks past....

This is a backblip from 17th May 1903, a sunny day as i recollect, i had been summoned from my chamber at the unearthly hour of two hours before the noontime, to offer succour in times of need to one of the young lads of the village who was troubled by an inconsistent and slightly bubolic bellows pump.

Away i was swept from the thick black smog and dust of the industrial north to the sweeter, more gentle airs of a bright and altogether more wholesome and agreeable atmosphere of the wilds of the Cambridgeshire fens......

Consulting my bradshaw i see that the old fenbrookshire branch line allowed me to arrive at the station just before the onset of dusk, and there in the failing,fading light, her upturned countenance illuminated by the carriage lights on the brougham which awaited me, i saw her, could it be my own, my very own sweet love.....

i stared through the haze of locomotive steam and dewy wet eyes, the mists began to clear......and too my horror there stood a small wizened hobgoblin of a man, all bones and bulging eyeballs, and next to him, a slack jawed, ill mannered rather portly youth with thick dark hair and a thick dark expression....

"Got yer Clock"
"Got yer clock?" the white haired gargoyle chirruped like an overwound child's musical box..

Behind him the flickering lights briefly illuminated the station's fading weather beaten sign...it read BUGGLESKELLY.

Oh Mr Porter what a mess you've landed in this time!!!!



the monkees

with thanks to Will Hay...genius!