The Professor Peregrine Papers

Following the prickly pear incident, Uncle Leucocholy insisted on dressing as a deep sea diver whenever close to cacti. When asked about this behaviour he would always reply, “L’objet d’art, par définition, est le crocodile empaillé”.  It is interesting to note: Uncle Leucocholy did not speak French. Uncle Leucocholy could not swim. Uncle Leucocholy once wore a pair of faux crocodile shoes to a performance of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition”.

Recently, as we perused, with much admiration, Ezra Gloppened's recent publication "Goo! : Butter Churns and their Role in the Peasants' Revolt", I ventured to ask if the Professor had ever considered an alternative career.   "I haven't always been attracted to the academic life," the Professor admitted. "Many years ago, I did spend some time on the road with my band The Inadequate Zarf. Ah, happy days! Except for the less happy days, which, come to think of it, was most of them." I was unsure about the veracity of this statement until I chanced upon a copy of The Inadequate Zarf’s classic album "Physalis In My Pocket" in a bric-a-brac sale at the Sandford Spence Schultz Home for Fractious Umpires. My favourite track is, without doubt, "Ruckus In The Olfaction Department", featuring the Professor's solo on bass harmonica, an instrument of which he has little or no knowledge.

You may well have heard of the Parisian Painting Machine, constructed in an attempt to relieve the “Grande pénurie d'art” in the 1890s. (This was, history leads us to believe, an entirely imaginary painting shortage invented by M. Tartempion, who found he had in his possession a gargantuan surplus of canvas to sell). As luck would have it, while the Professor was undertaking a field trip to aid his research into the pataphysical implications of white holes, he came across what he believed to be the derelict remains of that very machine in a barn just outside Purse Caundle.  After many months of  restoration work and not inconsiderable piles of cash, I'm pleased to say that the machine has recently produced a particularly unpleasant cup of espresso and the following “fine art” rendering of a bucolic landscape complete with waterfall. M. Tartempion would have been so proud of this spectacular success.

I have often urged the Professor to cast a little light upon some of the less documented periods of his life. Eventually one Tuesday afternoon last spring, as he sipped a cup of particularly doubtful Lapsang Souchong, he recalled a quite unexpected episode of many years ago:  “I must confess that there was a disturbing period of approximately 3 weeks in which I was pursued by a robot. At the time I was attempting to publish my now-famous and, dare I say, groundbreaking paper entitled ‘Formidophobia in the Sermons of the Reverend Mawkin Barcarole’. I was so unnerved by this paranormal episode that publication was delayed by some months. I surreptitiously took this photograph at the time.” I studied this image for several minutes before venturing to suggest: “Forgive me Professor, but I can't help noticing a striking resemblance between the robot in this photograph and Professor Atrabilious of Kirmond le Mire University, dressed in a ludicrous costume. Professor Atrabilious is, I bel...