The Chickens of Atlantis and Other Foul and Filthy Fiends

by Robert Rankin FVSS

  * There were several more pages of this guff, but I have removed them to spare the reader's sensitivities. (R. R.)

  23

  arwin awoke in a very bad mood indeed. His little head hurt and, to his absolute horror, he found that he had been stripped of his fine clothing and accoutrements.

  All he retained was the key to the Marie Lloyd and the police whistle, both still hanging about his dainty neck.

  The detective awoke with a shriek of pain, which gradually dimmed to groans of his own.

  ‘That is another fine mess you have got us both into,’ said the ape, in a tone which almost echoed that of Stan Laurel. ‘Note well that we always come unstuck in alehouses. That cries something loud that must be heard!’

  ‘Please do not cry it so loud here,’ mumbled the dismal detective. ‘I believe this must be what a hangover feels like and I like it not one small piece.’

  Mr Bell now took to patting at himself, groaning at intervals and shaking his head.

  ‘They have taken the lot,’ he said in gloom. ‘My weapons, my adjuncts, my dynamite.’

  ‘Your adjuncts?’ said the ape.

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘I am hungry,’ continued the ape. ‘And I am very upset. We have been tricked again. No, let me phrase that better – you have been tricked yet again.’

  ‘Don't rub it in.’ Mr Bell struggled to his feet. There was no doubt at all as to where they were. They were in a dungeon, and a grim and ghastly one, too.

  ‘My plan would be this—’ said Cameron Bell.

  But Darwin shook his head. ‘I am beginning to think,’ said he, ‘that if you never have a plan, then nothing can ever be said to go wrong.’

  ‘You are wise beyond your years,’ said Mr Bell, dusting down his underwear. For naught had been left upon him but his long johns and his vest.

  ‘Why do you need elasticated garters to hold up your socks?’ asked Darwin.

  And his socks!

  ‘Never mind.’ Mr Bell knotted his fists. ‘We must escape from here post-haste. It will be the executioner's block in the castle courtyard for us, I am thinking.’

  Light shone down through a grating high above.

  ‘Could you swarm up there?’ asked Mr Bell.

  ‘I could not,’ said the monkey.

  ‘Then we must find some other way out or—’

  But Mr Bell did not finish that sentence, because now there came those distinctive sounds of a great key being turned in a great lock and the shrieking of irritated hinges as the dungeon door swung open.

  Something monstrous stooped and peered in at the man and the monkey.

  ‘Fee-fi-fo-fum,’ boomed this fearsome figure. For a fearsome figure he was, all a-bulge with muscles and sinews and terribly fierce of face. ‘Out, foul conspirators!’

  Darwin's knees began to knock.

  Mr Bell offered comfort.

  ‘Climb onto my back,’ said the man to the monkey. ‘All might not be lost.’

  But all now appeared hopelessly lost, and as the giant jailer urged Mr Bell along a grim passage, with many a boot to the backside, the prospects for the Happy-Ever-After that ought to bring a fairy tale to a satisfactory conclusion looked remote at best.

  ‘Up them stairs,’ boomed the bemuscled monster. ‘And get a move on, do.’

  Up the stairs went man and monkey, the man a-grinding his teeth, the monkey a-trembling fearfully.

  And out into bright light, a banqueting hall and very much laughter indeed.

  And—

  ‘Oh my dear dead mother,’ said Cameron Bell.

  For everywhere, around and about and up and down, were fairies.

  They hovered aloft upon dragonfly wings. They peeped from corners and bounced upon benches. Brownies and boggarts and bogles. Leprechauns, loireags and lobs. Goblins and things that go bump in the night. Hinkypunks, huldus and hobs.

  They laughed and they chattered, they howled and they called, and such was the awful cacophony in that great hall that it might drive sanity from the mind of mortal Man.

  ‘Be silent!’ A voice rose up and silence fell.

  Mr Bell peeped up and saw . . .

  None other than Arthur Knapton.

  And he did look the very picture of a king in his golden crown and his ermine cape. And he lolled upon a throne of impressive size and wispy sylph-like ladies fed him porter and pork pies.

  ‘Dear oh dear oh dear,’ cried good King Arthur. ‘If it ain't me old master from Oxford, Mr Cameron Bell.’

  Mr Bell made a grumpy face, but wisely kept his own counsel.

  ‘And in ’is knickers and vest.’ And good King Arthur laughed, and the elves and dwarves and gnomes and trolls all took to much laughter also. Because no matter where or when you are, if the King laughs, you laugh, too.

  ‘Ain't so full of beans now, are ya?’ asked the King of Fairyland. ‘And you calls yerself a detective.’ And the King laughed again, and so did all and sundry around and about.

  ‘Where's me loyal subject who captured these two?’

  A small plump gnome with a long nose and hands that almost reached the floor stepped forward.

  Mr Bell cocked an eye at this apparition.

  ‘And where's me dancin’ children, and the two old gents on the bench and them musicians, too?’

  A group of grotesques waved their hands and fluttered their butterfly wings.

  ‘Like lambs to the slaughter,’ said good King Arthur, ‘led ’ere by a bus ticket and the talk in a Brentford pub. Then down to a village what looked like a village and villagers what looked like villagers.’

  ‘The glamour,’ whispered the monkey to the man. ‘An enchantment cast, that things are perceived, or otherwise, as the enchanter wishes.’

  ‘I am aware of this,’ said Mr Bell, most brusquely. ‘I read up on the fairy world before we entered it. And—’

  ‘And then forgot yer learning when you entered.’ The good King laughed his horrible laugh. ‘There's more to this ’ere world than you'll read of in any of them scholarly books out there. An’ I should know, as I owns most of the libraries of the Earth.’ And the King laughed again and his subjects laughed again and the man and the monkey felt very sad indeed.

  ‘I think it best,’ said the King, when all had done with laughter, ‘that I ’ave yer ’eads chopped off so you can cause me no more hin-con-ven-i-ence. I can't ’ave you runnin’ about on the loose, gettin’ up to all manner of shenanigans and causing me bovver and grief.’

  The fairies made ominous mumbling sounds. They could not have their dear King Arthur brought to bother and grief.

  ‘You just don't gets it,’ continued the King. ‘I ain't no tuppeny-’apenny footpad what you can track down with yer intuitive examinations of me shirt-cuffs. I'm the Pearly Emperor, I am. The God-Pharaoh Akhenaten of ancient Egypt. Good King Arthur in the land of myth an’ legend. And other rulers in other times what I won't mention ’ere. And I'll ’ave your realm too, Mr ’igh an’ mighty Cameron Bell, what swaggers about as the world's most famous detective. I've already written you out of ’istory – and now I'll write you out of life itself.’

  The fairies pointed fingers at the man and the monkey and booed and jeered and even catcalled, too.

  ‘Shut up!’ shouted the King. ‘But know this, Mr Bell as finks ’e's so clever. I ’as Crowley's magic stele. I was smart enough to decode it. I can travel as and when I want and I will ’ave it all – the past, the present an’ the future. I'll ’ave all the worlds that are and all the worlds that may be. So what do you say to that, Mr Dangerous Detective?’

  In truth, Mr Bell appeared to be somewhat lost for words. For in truth, he appeared to have met his match.

  The monkey whispered at the detective's ear. ‘Shall I blow my whistle now?’ he asked.

  Cameron Bell sighed sadly. ‘I regret that blowing your whistle here will not summons the assistance of a policeman.’

  ‘But—’ said the monkey.

  ‘Stop that whisperin’,’
called the King. ‘Jailer, take ’em out to the courtyard an’ let's ’ave off their ’eads.’

  And to much applause and good humour and much bouncing up and down of boggarts, and elbowings of elves, and laughings of leprechauns and hootings of hobgoblins and shoutings of sylphs and suchlike, the man was booted in the bum and encouraged towards the courtyard.

  It was another sunny day in Fairyland. Though, as before, the sky of blue lacked for a sun.

  The King was borne aloft upon his throne, held high upon the backs of creatures half-man and half-Hobnob.* Wingéd fairies swarmed the air and those that leapt and crawled moved by whatever means they had into the castle courtyard.

  Upon a raised platform, the chopping block stood. And next to this another titanic figure, sporting the terrible axe and the big black hood that marked him out as an executioner, rather than, say, a quantity surveyor.

  ‘I would blow my whistle now!’ said the monkey to the man.

  ‘I am so very very sorry,’ said the man to the monkey. ‘My foolishness, my overconfidence, oh so many things, have brought this awful fate upon you, my innocent friend. I am truly sorry.’

  ‘I think I will blow it,’ said the monkey.

  ‘Up!’ the King shouted. ‘Onto the platform. Onto the block. Off with their ’eads as of now.’

  And Mr Bell was urged up steps onto the frightful platform and the fairies swarmed and the fairies jeered and the good King raised his hand up high . . .

  And then brought down his thumb.

  The huge executioner grabbed the monkey, held him high in the air by his tail.

  The monkey put his whistle to his mouth and blew.

  The fairy crowd broke out in applause.

  The monkey blew his whistle three more times.

  The good King fell about in mirth.

  The executioner held the monkey to the block, raised up his axe and prepared to bring it down.

  Mr Bell covered his eyes and said his prayers.

  The executioner made to swing his axe.

  And then the world went mad.

  They seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

  Screaming and screeching.

  Leaping and bounding.

  Viciously fighting.

  Clawing and punching.

  Biting and biffing.

  Producing and flinging dung.

  Monkeys! Hundreds of monkeys!

  They fell without fear onto the fairies and the King, onto the jailer and thing that held the axe.

  ‘I think we should be going now,’ said Darwin.

  And as monkey mayhem was given its full hairy head, Mr Bell and Darwin slipped away.

  * A type of biscuit, apparently. (R. R.)

  24

  ‘ell me now,’ said Mr Cameron Bell.

  He and Darwin were once more aboard the Marie Lloyd, this time in the company of many many monkeys.

  They had all made good their escape from Fairyland and all were now in the very best of spirits.

  Darwin sat in the pilot's seat, a young ape on his lap. ‘It is all rather simple,’ he said to Mr Bell. ‘You had a plan, so I thought that I should have one, too. Mine worked a little better than yours, I am thinking.’

  ‘Go on then,’ said Mr Bell. ‘Tell me all about it.’

  ‘Well,’ said Darwin, ‘it was this way. When I visited my monkeys yesterday and found them all caged up and in such a disorganised state, it upset me greatly. I asked you to leave me all alone with them, and when you did so – and when there was nobody else around – I spoke to them in both Man and Monkey. I told them who I was and that I had come to free them—’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Mr Cameron Bell.

  ‘And I told them that if they all behaved themselves, I would take them to a better place.’

  Mr Bell ‘oh deared’ some more. Darwin told him to shush.

  ‘Then I unlocked their cage,’ said the educated ape, ‘and told them to quietly follow you and I when we left the Marie Lloyd a little before midnight yesterday.’

  ‘They were certainly stealthy,’ said Mr Bell. ‘I had no idea they were following us.’

  Darwin grinned. ‘I am very proud of them,’ he said. ‘But let me finish. I had brought this whistle with me and I told my monkeys that if I got into any desperate trouble I would blow it four times, and I would really appreciate it if they rescued me.’

  Mr Bell smiled and said, ‘Which they did.’

  ‘Which they did,’ agreed the ape. ‘You see, Mr Bell, it was not good that my monkeys should have to spend their lives in a cage, but it looked as though that would be their fate if they remained in the world of men. The world of fairies, however, appeared to be quite another matter, and I reasoned that here was a place that might perhaps suit my monkeys better.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Mr Bell. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Perhaps, indeed. But it was not to be. Fairyland is probably not a place for anyone other than fairies.’

  ‘Arthur Knapton looks quite at home there.’

  ‘But not my monkeys,’ Darwin said. ‘It would have been nice, but it was not to be.’

  ‘It was a noble idea,’ said Mr Bell, ‘and I applaud you for it. And undoubtedly your forward planning saved our lives. I shall be forever in your debt.’

  Darwin reached out his little hand and Mr Bell took it and shook it.

  ‘But, as you said, it was not to be,’ said the great detective. ‘And so I regret we must return these monkeys to their rightful owner.’

  There was a terrible silence then, within the Marie Lloyd.

  ‘Well, they can't come with us,’ said Mr Bell.

  ‘We do not have room,’ said Mr Bell.

  ‘Think of all they would eat,’ said Mr Bell.

  ‘Think of all the poo!’ said Mr Bell.

  ‘They are not going back to the cage,’ said Darwin.

  ‘That is that is that!’

  ‘But they can't—’

  ‘They saved our lives,’ said the educated ape, ‘and I will not abandon them now.’

  ‘But they—’

  ‘Listen,’ said Darwin. ‘I have an idea. Let me explain to you what it is, and if you agree that it is a good idea, then we will translate this idea from words into a deed – are we agreed upon this?’

  ‘Tell me your idea,’ said Mr Bell.

  Many provisions were purchased. As many as Mr Bell's limited funds would stretch to. The monkeys, in the care of Darwin, remained aboard the Marie Lloyd, hidden from the world, whilst the detective to-ed and fro-ed from the time-ship, looking ever more grumpy.

  ‘I think now would be the time for us to depart,’ he informed the monkey pilot. ‘There are many policemen now abroad in Syon Park, searching high and low for all these monkeys.’

  ‘They will not think to look in here, Mr Bell,’ said Darwin.

  ‘I fear that I may have aroused certain suspicions by bringing aboard such a large cargo of bananas and monkey nuts,’ declared the detective. ‘Let us leave now, if you please.’

  Darwin called, ‘Hold tight,’ in Monkey to his monkeys, buckled his seat belt and diddled away at the dashboard.

  ‘The date I want isn't on here,’ he said to his friend as he studied the dials and counters.

  ‘Then just put the ship into reverse and we will use our discretion.’

  The monkeys of Syon did not get on very well with Cameron Bell. There always appeared to be several monkeys in any particular place that he wished to be in at any particular time. And all those monkeys did take up an awful lot of room. And they did eat an awful lot of food. And as to the matter of monkey poo . . .

  Awful!

  Mr Bell fretted and fumed.

  Darwin, however, had rarely, if ever, been happier.

  Here he was in the company of his grandchildren, greatgrandchildren and great-great-grandchildren, too. And as the Marie Lloyd plied its way through quantum shifts and Doppler passages and things of a meta-temporal nature generally, he set to educating his travelling compani
ons, offering to them the basics of ‘civilisation’.

  ‘You are my tribe,’ he told them, ‘and as such, you are special.’

  Back and back went the ship of time.

  Back and back and back.

  Within the Marie Lloyd a week had passed.

  ‘I feel we should now stop the ship,’ said Mr Cameron Bell.

  Darwin looked towards his friend and started with surprise.

  Mr Bell was no longer the Mr Bell that Darwin knew so well, the avuncular Pickwickian figure, well dressed and bright of eye.

  Here indeed was a sad shadow of that Mr Bell. Here was a fellow most put upon and, it had to be said, most pooped upon. A fellow unshaven and unkempt, with dark rings under his eyes.

  ‘In truth,’ cried Mr Cameron Bell, wading about amidst monkeys, ‘I am at the end of my tether. Either stop this ship now or I swear I will throw open the port and hurl myself into the aether.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Darwin, and gave himself a scratch.

  ‘Please,’ begged Mr Bell. ‘I can stand no more.’

  A fine young monkey bit him on the bottom.

  ‘So be it,’ said Darwin. ‘Hold on, everyone.’

  And he took the Marie Lloyd out of gear and tugged upon the handbrake.

  The ship of time rested in a sylvan glade. A gentle breeze whispered at grasses. The sun shone down from a sky of blue. And all looked very nice.

  Darwin set his key to the lock and the port swung open with a sigh.

  The monkeys clustered at the door, but Darwin held them back and sniffed the air.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Cameron Bell, his voice both weary and soft.

  ‘I think,’ said Darwin, ‘in fact, I sense and indeed know that all is well. We have travelled back to a time many many many thousands of years before the dawn of Mankind. And –’ and he sniffed once again ‘– a time that is not populated by chickens.’

  ‘Praise be for that,’ said Cameron Bell.

  ‘But I must be sure.’

  Darwin left his monkeys in the care of Mr Bell and was gone from the ship for almost an hour, but he was smiling when he returned.

  ‘All is indeed safe,’ said he. ‘There are no dinosaurs, nor did I smell any monkey-eating predators. This is where my monkeys can live in freedom.’