Robert Rankin - The Brightonomicon

I did thoughtful noddings of the head, at which Mr Rune rolled his eyes.

'Allow me to explain, in as few words as are necessary,' said he. 'It will be many years before your book is published, and when it is, some reader will take issue with the accuracy of what you have written. They will feel absolutely certain that there were no establishments called "Something Or Other R Us" in the nineteen sixties.'

'Then they will be wrong,' said I, 'because we are standing before just such an establishment even as we speak.'

'Precisely,' said Mr Rune. 'Such contradictions are due to the Chevalier Effect.' 'Is it like the Greenhouse Effect?' I asked.

'No,' said Mr Rune. 'It is not. But the same reader will also observe that the term "Greenhouse Effect" was not coined until later in the twentieth century either.'

'I hate to contradict this historically inclined future reader,' I said, 'but I think you will find that I have just mentioned the Greenhouse Effect.'

Mr Rune nodded sagely. 'I agree completely, young Rizla,' he said. 'So kindly open your ears and mind to what I have to tell you.'

I did my best to do these things, and partially achieved them.

'The Chevalier Effect is named after the popular entertainer Maurice Chevalier, and the famous song that he sang.'

'"Thank Heavens For Little Girls"?' I enquired. 'I believe it has always been my opinion that there is something not altogether wholesome about the French.'

'I share this opinion,' said Mr Rune. 'But the song I am referring to is "I Remember It Well" from the motion picture Gigi, sung by Maurice Chevalier and Hermione Gingold.'

'I know the song,' I said. 'It is about two people recalling the night they first met, but they cannot agree on the details and contradict each other throughout. To somewhat mild comic effect, I have to say. I consider Bernard Cribbins's "Hole In the Ground" far funnier.'

'I share this opinion also,' said Mr Rune. 'The Chevalier Effect is to do with the decay of time. Once an event has occurred and becomes memory, decay sets in and things run together. Folk recall the event differently: some see it this way, some that way.'

'That is because some of them are right and some of them are wrong in their recollections,' I assured the Perfect Master.

'Incorrect,' he replied. 'They are all right. It is the decay of time that is to blame, not their faltering memories.'

'They cannot all be right,' I protested. 'An event can only occur one way. We are either standing outside an establishment called Dogs R Us, or we are not. Which is it?'

Mr Rune gave his nose a significant tap. 'When you write your memoirs of our time together, there will be many such anomalies. You will be certain that, for example, a certain song existed at the time, or a certain newspaper, or a certain television personality. Or indeed, that a certain establishment was called Dogs R Us.' 'Which it is,' I said.

'Which it is,' Mr Rune agreed. 'But when you hand your manuscript to a publishing editor, that esteemed personage will take issue with the accuracy of your revelations. They will say that such and such a person did not do such and such a thing in the nineteen sixties. They will doubt the authenticity of your account of events, based upon these anachronisms.'

'Then I will leave them out,' I said, 'or let the publishing editor change them.'

'You will not!' cried Mr Rune, and he drew himself up to his full and improbable height. 'You will insist that they remain and you will explain about the Chevalier Effect.' 'That sign definitely does say Dogs R Us,' I said.

'Then you will stick to your guns, young Rizla. I have faith in you.' Mr Rune plucked leaves from the hedge and let them fall to the pavement. 'And now I will explain to you exactly how the Chevalier Effect works, so that you may set it down in your chronicles to explain all the seeming anomalies and anachronisms.'

And so Mr Rune did. He spoke with erudition, using terms easily understandable by the layman. And I do have to say that when he had reached his conclusion, I, for one, was truly convinced and would number myself amongst the converted. Because, after all, I was there and that sign really did say Dogs R Us!

I would set down here all that he told me, but to do so would be to waste precious time. However, the reader may rest assured that everything chronicled within the pages of this international bestseller did indeed occur as written. And that all the seeming anomalies – indeed, anachronisms even – that appear, such as in Chapter Four with the mention of alcopops, gay icons and certain dead rock stars, are not there due to poor editing; rather, they are there because they were there at the time. Due to the Chevalier Effect. Which explains everything. Obviously.

'So,' said Mr Rune, 'now that we have cleared that up, there is one further thing I must warn you about. In this case, as in others, there is bound to be a spaniel involved.'

'I have no fear of spaniels,' I said, and I crossed my heart as I said so, to add weight to my words. 'Spaniels hold no dread for me. Big soppy things, they all are.'

'On that we are both agreed. But I promise you that there will be spaniel involvement, so remain vigilant and always upon your guard.' 'You are surely joking?'

'I never joke,' said Mr Rune. 'I jibe, I mock, I ridicule, but I do these things only to be cruel to be kind. You have a big spot on the back of your neck, by the way. Here, take this and pin it to your shirtfront.' 'What is it?' I asked. 'A badge,' said Mr Rune. 'It has the head of a spaniel upon it,' I observed.

Mr Rune gave his great nose a significant tapping. 'A word to the wise,' said he. 'Wear the badge with pride. And keep both your ears and your eyes wide open.'

I pinned the badge to my shirtfront, avoiding, by sheer luck alone, severe nipple puncturation. 'Shall we go and knock on the door?' I asked. 'To what end, exactly?' 'To summon the woman, or man, who wrote to you.'

'Ah,' said Mr Rune. 'Of course, you do not – as yet -know my methods. We will not knock on the door. We will wait for our client to come to us.'

'I am confused,' I said. 'And I feel a bit of a ninny wearing this badge. What are those garden gnomes doing, by the way?' And I pointed to the pair of gnomes that had caught my attention. 'Copulating,' said Mr Hugo Rune. 'Now duck your head.' 'Why?' 'Just duck it.' I ducked as requested, registered a loud report and felt a searing of my sun-blocking headwear. 'Ouch,' was what I had to say.

'Keep your head down,' said Mr Rune. 'We are being fired upon.'

I crouched in the shelter of a clipped box hedge. I tore my hankie from my head and examined it. To my horror, it had been scorched along its length by the passage of a bullet. 'By Crimbo,' I exclaimed. 'I have been shot.' 'You are unharmed.'

'Shot!' There was horror in my voice. 'You promised me excitement, but not an untimely death. Are such unwarranted attacks a day-to-day occurrence with you?'

'Plah!' said Mr Hugo Rune. 'I trust that you are not going to panic'

'On the contrary. I only seek to retreat to a safe distance. Possibly London. Farewell.' 'Timid,' said Mr Rune. 'As I feared.' 'Gunman,' said I. 'Have fear of him.' 'He wasn't firing at us.'

'No? At whom, then? And look at the state of my hankie – it is ruined.' 'Wave it above your head.' 'And that will help, will it?' 'Just wave the hankie – higher now, that's right.' 'I am so sorry, I truly am.' 'I did not say that,' I said. 'I didn't think that you did,' said Mr Rune, and he rose once more to his considerable height. 'I truly am so sorry.'

I rose to what height I myself possessed and gazed towards the apologist, who stood on the other side of the clipped box hedge.

Now, as I have said, Mr Rune was tall, tall was Mr Rune, and big around with it, but the fellow beyond the hedge was taller still. Tall was he, and all over gaunt.