Page 45 of Necrophenia


  Leaving me to carry on where he left off and perhaps even prove myself to be the greatest private eye that ever there was.

  And as Laz was retiring, and as I had already bought the franchise and everything, I moved into his office and put a new sign up on the door—

  SOME CALL ME TYLER PSYCHIC DETECTIVE

  I haven’t had any cases yet, but hey, it’s only been a week and I have had other things to do. Like visit the hospital, for instance, after I discovered that Laz had amusingly sewn my left ear back on upside down.

  And then there was last night’s reunion, which I mentioned in the first chapter of this book. In truth it was a bit more than just a reunion - it was my stag night.

  Because I’m getting married today. To the golden girlie from Begrem (where we will be spending our honeymoon).

  I’m rather excited about getting married. I’m particularly excited about the prospect of finally having sex. Even though I’m approaching my seventieth birthday. I reckon I’m still up for it.

  Regarding Begrem, I have decided not to open it up to the tourist trade, nor to avail myself of the riches therein. It felt rather wrong, somehow, and as there have been sufficient wrongs done, I don’t want to add any more of my own.

  And, of course, there was the matter of the head of the CIA going missing. And where he might have ended up. Or down. Questions were asked, but answers weren’t furnished and that one remains open on the files.

  And regarding all those walking-dead folk. What became of them? Well, they’ll all die again in their own good time and their souls will go off to wherever they should go.

  Which, I suppose, means that this is the end of my tale.

  Which seems a bit of a shame, really, but you have to end it somewhere. And I, like Laz, am going out on a high. But it is certainly not over for me. In fact, my career as Some Call Me Tyler, Psychic Detective is only just beginning.

  And if there is any justice in this world, you will soon be reading my exciting adventures and how I solve the most obtuse conundrums and thwart the diabolical plans of criminal masterminds using my extra-special power and the Tyler Technique.

  And so, let me leave you with the words of . . . the George:

  It’s turned out nice again.

  1

  This term was originally coined by a reporter from the Daily Mirror who toured with the band during the 1970s, when eating disorders first became fashionable. And the Kynges were at the forefront of this trend.

  2

  The technique for adapting the beer-bottle top to badge-wear is now lost in the Mists of Time. Those who remember it, remember it, and these few souls remain cool.

  3

  And they would.

  4

  You see? The George Formby anagram, Orgy of Begrem.

  5

  I don’t think this is altogether true, is it? (Ed.)

  6

  Sequined all over. His mum had made it for him.

  7

  Which had arrived through our letter box by mistake, it being meant for Captain Blood, the retired freebooter who lived next door.

  8

  So, some things never change.

  9

  Traditional.

  10

  This, it is to be believed, was the first time this joke was ever used.

  11

  And this was never used.

  12

  And they do.

  13

  As opposed to one that is only occasional.

  14

  Positively the last time.

  15

  This is not entirely true. In fact, it is not true at all.

  16

  The organist was Richie Havens. (Ed.)

  17

  Should the reader yearn to know the full story of Courage Croydon, the best reference book would be Sir John Rimmer’s Croydon’s Croydon: The Man, the Myth and the Sacred Geomancy of the Roundabout system.

  18

  Third wedding Anniversaries are ‘cheese’. And are not easy to get anniversary cards for. As opposed to those silver, gold and diamond. But strange, at times, are the ways of Man.

  19

  Still reckoned to be the most comfortable recliner of all time.

  20

  Which rather impressed me at the time because dogging had yet to become an English national pastime.

  21

  That’s probably enough Cons, now, thank you. (Ed.)†

  † Hey, buddy, don’t footnote Woodbine - I ain’t a footnoted kind of guy.

  22

  Allegedly. But hey, come on!

  23

  Elvis was in fact a natural blond, although not a lot of people know that.

  24

  Everything makes sense when you give it sufficient thought. Doesn’t it?

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

 


 

  Robert Rankin, Necrophenia

 


 

 
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