Raiders of the Lost Car Park (The Cornelius Murphy Trilogy Book 2)

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Raiders of the Lost Car Park (The Cornelius Murphy Trilogy Book 2) Page 26

by Robert Rankin


  Polly Gotting did not marry Prince Charles. She, like her sister, harboured a secret passion for balding ex-musos with beer bellies and bad breath (well, anything’s possible) and she moved in with Mickey Minns.

  This didn’t upset Mickey’s wife, because when the Minns got home from the gig on Star Hill, he found a note saying that she had gone off to live in Spain, taking the contents of Minn’s Music Mine with her. She had apparently absconded with a Mr Patel who ran the shop next door.

  Inspectre Hovis did get his knighthood, but not for solving The Crime Of The Century. He got the one Prince Charles had promised, for his delicate handling of that certain little matter regarding an heir to the throne, a homoeopathist called Chunky and a Dormobile named Desire.

  Cruel fate, as ever conspiring against the great detective, saw to it that he did not become Lord Hovis of Kew. This title apparently being held by a gentleman called Rune. The Inspectre became Lord Hovis of Brentford.

  The Queen remained kidnapped for two long weeks. Which might appear strange, seeing as Cornelius had delivered her straight back to the palace. But by then it would seem that the various bigwigs had signed so many lucrative contracts, and the world’s sympathy for the poor kidnapped Queen had already grown so great, that it was considered prudent she remain kidnapped for just a bit longer. It was also suggested that she might care to be kidnapped on a yearly basis, to further increase her popularity.

  Tuppe was interested to note that when the Queen was finally ‘liberated’, it was from a traveller’s caravan on Hampstead Heath. And that the ‘kidnappers’ turned out to be the very same fellows who had engaged in the skirmishes with the police outside Gunnersbury Park. He even thought he recognized at least one ex Blue Peter presenter amongst their number.

  The BBC hold exclusive world rights on the ‘liberation’.

  The lead singer of Gandhi’s Hairdryer never did get to announce his retirement. After the holocaust on Star Hill, the band split up, due to ‘artistic differences’. Some unpleasantness then occurred regarding the loss of all that uninsured stage equipment, the record company sued for breach of contract and the Inland Revenue joined in the hue and cry and stung the lot of them for three years’ unpaid income tax.

  The lead singer now works as a guard on British Rail. He’s never been so happy. His chums at the depot call him ‘Smiley’ Colin.

  The world has yet to discover the truth about the denizens of the Forbidden Zones. Certain grey-bearded experts of the archaeological persuasion, who examined all that remained of the great hall (which wasn’t much after the travellers had stripped it of its fixtures and fittings), declared it to be a folly. Probably the work of the Reverend Kemp. This being the local cleric who was buried on the very top of Star Hill, standing on his head, so that when Judgement Day came and the world was turned upside down, he would be the first on his feet. Well, it had to be his really, didn’t it? It being upside down and everything.

  You can still visit the ruins. The local guide, a Mr Omally, is to be found at The Flying Swan (eight hand-drawn ales on pump, snacks available at the bar, unrestricted parking in the Ealing Road). He’s there most lunch-times, and he’ll be happy to show you around. For a small remuneration, of course.

  Naturally there are some loose ends that just can’t be tied up. The present whereabouts of Chief Inspector Brian ‘Bulwer’ Lytton, for example, last seen leading an abortive police charge against the travellers on Star Hill. His file remains open, it reads ‘missing presumed eaten’.

  Terence Arthur Mulligan still drives a cab, although not the one his brother’s ice-cream van crashed into. Terence had managed to leap from that in the very nick of time. Which was lucky for him.

  As to the big green thingy in his cab and the occupants of the ice-cream van, nothing is known. No bodies were recovered. It was almost as if they’d vanished into thin air.

  But what of Cornelius and Tuppe and Anna? And what of the enigmatic Mr Hugo Rune?

  Cornelius Murphy now lives for part of the year in Miami, Florida. That’s when he’s not on his yacht, or at one of his English country residences. He lives with his girlfriend Anna, his best friend Tuppe, and a succession of lady friends that the small fellow keeps bringing home after parties. They are, as the expression goes, of independent wealth.

  The tall boy made his first of many millions auctioning off the automotive contents of a certain king’s private car park.

  And, of course, if you happen to be the Stuff of Epics, and possess a reinvented ocarina, there are many other lucrative openings to be found in and around London.

  As for Hugo Rune, what can be said? There are those who suggest that, like Father Christmas, Rune never really existed. But there are others who swear that they have seen him water-skiing with the Sultan of Brunei, arm-wrestling with the Pope and frequenting the swank offices of a certain illustrious West London publishing house. There may possibly be some substance to the last of these supposed sightings, as the word is out, in literary circles, that Rune is seeking to publish his memoirs.

  If this is indeed the case, and it probably is, then the world has not yet heard the last of Hugo Rune, guru’s guru, master of the arts magickal, reinventor of the ocarina and self-appointed scourge of the fairy folk.

  There are twenty-three really wonderful things in this world

  Hugo Rune knows all of them.

  And then some.

  THE END

  Also by

  ROBERT RANKIN

  The Antipope

  The Brentford Triangle

  East of Ealing

  The Sprouts of Wrath

  Armageddon: The Musical

  They Came and Ate Us

  The Suburban Book of the Dead

  The Book of Ultimate Truths

  Raiders of the Lost Car Park

  The Greatest Show Off Earth

  The Most Amazing Man Who Ever Lived

  The Garden of Unearthly Delights

  A Dog Called Demolition

  Nostradamus Ate My Hamster

  Sprout Mask Replica

  The Brentford Chainstore Massacre

  The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag

  Apocalypso

  Snuff Fiction

  Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls

  Waiting for Godalming

  Web Site Story

  The Fandom of the Operator

  The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

  The Witches of Chiswick

  Knees Up Mother Earth

  The Brightonomicon

  The Toyminator

  The Da-da-de-da-da Code

  Necrophenia

  Retromancer

  The Japanese Devil Fish Girl and Other Unnatural Attractions

  The Mechanical Messiah and Other Marvels of the Modern Age

  The Educated Ape and Other Wonders of the Worlds

  Illustrated works:

  The Bumper Book of Ficts written by Neil Gardner

  EMPIRES

  E-book edition cover illustration by Robert Rankin

  Tweed courtesy of the Wardrobe of Rankin

  Additional editing, art direction, trans-perambulations of pseudo-cosmic anti-matter affecting a cross-polarisation of the beta-particle flow, resulting in the sweetest nose you ever did see. And then some: Rachel Hayward

  Table of Contents

  AS IF YOU HADN’T GUESSED

  INTRODUCTION

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  THE AFTERWORDS


 

 

 


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