Just some old Badger prose…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s existential angst is centred around the words ‘rodding eye’. (RE)
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You will be aware dear reader that in these pages I occasionally feature the front cover of a Badger Book, a 1960s British pulp science fiction paperback, from my modest collection. Almost all of the Badger science fiction and supernatural stories were written by one chap, the (Reverend) Robert Lionel Fanthorpe MBIS, who happily, is still around, and regularly appears on TV series that deal with the occult, ‘strange things’, spooky stuff, extraterrestrials, conspiracy theories, and such like. Back in the ’60s he wrote under many stylish pseudonyms (so as not to give the game away that he was writing them all…) – Bron Fane, Trebor Thorpe, Pel Torro, Karl Ziegfried, Deutero Spartacus, and many others.
There is a very nice site where, if you wish, you could learn more about the great RLF – just click here.

Today I thought that I would include one or two amusing examples of RLF’s writing style that over the years, I have been so impressed with, that I bothered to copy them out and keep for such an occasion as this:

‘The bored sophistication was finally broken. She had his interest at last, it had come up like the soft pink belly of a hermit crab when it changes homes…’

‘He felt like a man who had taken a toothpick and tried to dismantle a giant Canadian redwood: he felt like a man who had been incarcerated behind bars of 14 inch thick steel and was endeavouring to cut through those bars with a set of worn down false teeth…’

‘Julian Conrad walked on, a tireless colossus of a man, with the semi-conscious form of Acheson draped across his shoulders. He walked like a Norse God, like a Titan, like a being belonging to some superior ethnic group…’

‘Dolores was aware of noises behind the cellar walls, soft purposeful scurrying sounds. Rats! She wasn’t sure which repelled her most, rodents or aliens; at least rats didn’t insert metal control cylinders in your head…’

 

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in books, brain, existentialism, history, humour, information, reading, style, surrealism, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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