The Cuckoos Of Midwich

That Sounds Like A Charming Little Wildlife Photography Book

Doesn't it, though?  WELL IT ISN'T!  I refer, of course - obviously! - to the novel by John Wyndham, "The Midwich Cuckoos".

     I was brought to ponder on this work because I'm watching the first season of a Netflix drama called "Between", which I shall describe.  You have the town of Pretty Lake in British America, population about 10,000.  Suddenly all the older folks start dropping dead, gurgling horrid black glop as they do so, until everyone over the age of 21 is dead.  Art!

     Then comes the frankly unbelievable part, where the British American government cuts the whole town off with electrified fences and razor wire and the use of deadly force at the merest whiff of a hat descending.  I mean come on!  This is Canuckistan we're talking about, they're much too polite to do that.  So you have a community totally isolated from the outside world and a mysterious threat.

     "Hmmmm, that reminds me of The Midwich Cuckoos," I mused aloud (no passers-by to scare this time).  Since you may not have read the novel yet seen the film, here is the 1960 iteration.  Art!

Behold the - er - Twine Of Doom!

     John The Carpenter did a remake in 1995, taking a break from his usual routine of terrifying documentaries.  Art!

     The novel's plot is that the village of Midwich undergoes An Event, where everyone inside a circle that extends to it's village limit falls unconscious.  If removed from within this circle they regain consciousness.  An overflight by the Brylcreem Boys reveals a mysterious metal object at absolute dead centre of the affected area.  When this OBVIOUSLY NOT A FLYING SAUCER vanishes, so does the effect.  All's well that ends well, hmmmm?  Er - no.  Because every fertile woman able to bear a child is now pregnant, and the children are as above ...

     That idea about a community totally cut off from the wider world had resonance, because it crops up in sci-fi time and again.  In "The Daemons" serial of the BBC's premier dramamentary 'Doctor Who', the village of Devil's End (foreshadowing!) is cut off by an invisible barrier that chars anything crossing it into ashes in a split second.  Art!

"No, I can't jump over it, Brigadier, it's a mile high."

     Then there's "Under The Dome", a novel by Stephen King which was made into an extremely successful television series, where - surprise! - a giant and impenetrable dome suddenly cuts off Chester's Mill.  Your Humble Scribe has neither seen the series nor read the book, so no spoilers here.  I'm pretty sure James Blish wrote a short story about an impenetrable black dome sealing off New York, which is of course - obviously! - a dirty trick played by the Sinisters.  Ah!  Found it - "The Box".

     And wouldn't you know it, these things that go around come around, apparently there's a television series of "The Midwich Cuckoos" due out later this year.  Art!

Don't ask me, I have no idea either

     Lest you be unaware, the cuckoo is a brood parasite that lays it's eggs in the nests of other birds, leaving them to be raised by the hapless parents, so not the kind of guest that you'd take home to mother.

Conrad Is ANGRY!  O SO ANGRY!!

Where was I?  O yes, my Frothing Nitric Ire was boiling over, wasn't it?  Yet more despicable envelope-stretching by those Dog Buns Codeword compilers AGAIN.  Still, it would be harder to create the blog if they weren't such moral weevils, wouldn't it?

"DULCIFY": You what?  I have no idea what this means.  Let me consult my trusty Collins Concise -

     - Nope.  Nothing.  Although it does say that DULCET comes from the Latin <hack spit> 'dulcis' meaning sweet.  Let us check teh Interwebz.  Ah.  "To sweeten or soothe" WHICH IS THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW!

<slobbers wantingly>

"HYDRIC": Yes yes yes I had to look this one up, too.  "Of or containing hydrogen".  WHAT ARE WE CHEMISTRY GRADUATES NOW!

CAUTION! contains hydrogen

"DEWBERRY": Go on, admit it, you'd never heard of it either, had you?  This is a variety of trailing bramble that produces a fruit looking like a black raspberry, and is similar to the blackberry.  That's it.  Art!

     I remain, Yours, Seething

So I Shall Inflict Torment Upon You

Yes, this will make you feel worse, but I shall feel better, which is the important thing.  Don't forget, "Tormentor" is not the light and fluffy nonsense about tanks, atom bombs and zombies that are BOOJUM!'s usual staples.

‘What if we do write swearing?’ asked a student, grinning and nodding to his friends alongside.

               ‘I know where you live.  I’ll come and pin you to your bed with a steak-knife after setting your house alight.  One hundred words minimum.’

               None of the students could make out if he was joking or not, which mattered not one iota to Louis.  He hardly considered any of the remedials capable, let alone willing, of making a complaint.  They came from a “thou shalt not grass” culture that viewed any resort to Authority as being underhand.

               Louis could have dashed off a one-hundred word report in one hundred seconds.  His class took between ten minutes and half an hour to come up with an end result.  By that time several students were fidgeting restlessly, so he gathered the essays in and allowed them to go early.

               ‘If you have time, say a prayer for the schoolgirl who was murdered,’ he told them on the way out.

               ‘You are so full of it,’muttered the hoodie-clad midget teen in passing.

               ‘Goodness and wit, or a similar rhyme,’ riposted Louis.

 SIX

 

Rowell asked a student mentor to go and collect Louis from the boxy shared office he was marking files in.  When the lecturer appeared in his airy, light-filled office, the Vice Principal folded his hands together and smiled, in the fashion of a shark.

               ‘Louis.  Please take a seat.’

               ‘That’s too polite.  What are you imposing on me?’

               ‘Imposing?  Nothing at all.  No, no, I’m just impressed at your ability to tutor the students on your DTO class.  A sound grasp of innovative and basic English tuition.  Plus they’re dwindling nicely.’

               ‘You want me to mentor that new girlie who arrived this week.’

               Rowell had enough integrity and conscience to blush.

               ‘Ah – er – yes.  Laura.  Not to put too fine a point upon it.  You know how it is.’

               ‘No,’ replied Louis, bluntly.  ‘I don’t.’

               ‘Oh, really.  The college needs to keep up academic performance measured across targets, and we’re down on the English side.  Your input will balance any possible drop in pass rates against the savings overall in terms of aggregate wages.  Plus, you’ve got the necessary supervisor quals – is it ISO or the NVQ?  Whichever.  And you have the time in your rota.’

               ‘Do I get a pay raise out of this?’ asked Louis, feeling daring.  To his surprise, Rowell didn’t immediately dismiss the idea, which meant it was already in the offing.

               Then again, do I really need money when I can speak to the spirits?

               ‘Get the Bursar’s office to send me the details.’

Finally -

We've actually hit the Compositional Ton, but you know how I like to pontificate.  Well, yesteryon Shelli Messaged me, which was coincidental, as I'd been thinking about her owing me a painting and me owing her money.  She is hectically busy with the February launch of her band's first CD, said band being Matt Hartless And The Maverick Seven.  This has been in the offing for some time, with the Coronavirus mucking up schedules.  So no painting until February.  Art!