Drown Ban, Not Chav deicide, or The Mongo code

Chapter 1

The eminent and very French Inspector Gordon Flache eyed the eminent Harvard popularculturologist suspiciously, “Do you know what it means?”.

Chapter 2

Obertray Angdonlay, the eminent and needlessly American expert on popular culture, who had once written a book, looked grimly at the corpse on the floor. Inspector Flache had asked him, eminently, what it meant.

The eminent librarian, M.T. Merciless lay on the floor of the eminent library, the point of a spaceship through his heart. Dead. In the dust on the floor was a picture of an enormous phallus below which he had managed to write the two lines:

O, the Divine ACDC
R R R R R R R R R

“Hmm” said the eminent Mr Angdonlay, “a Drawn Nob, an apparent tribute to a heavy metal band and a bunch of R’s. What can it mean?”.

“If I may help”, said a female, and eminent sounding voice behind them, “it looks like writing. I would say Roman script.The first inscription is almost certainly in English.” Dale Arden was an eminent police linguistics expert and eminently eminent. She was 25, had six warts on her nose, an enormous chin, and a pronounced limp. “I need to talk to you” she said to Obertray. She winked and motioned her head towards the library’s eminent convenience. Inspector Flache, being French, missed this subtle sign.

Chapter 3

“You are in eminent danger”, said Dale when they were away from the eminent detective.

“You eminently are!” said a voice. It was Hans Zarkov, formerly of NASA, who appeared at the door pointing a pistol at Angdonlay. “I seek the Crock of Shite. Give it to me!”

“Look! The Goodyear Blimp!” exclaimed Arden, pointing out the frosted glass window. As Zarkov looked up, Angdonlay and Arden ran past the eminent former Royal Crockologist and made for the ladies’ where Dale knew Dr Zarkov, a British gentleman, would not follow.

Chapter 4

Angdonlay and Arden ran into the ladies, where Dale knew Dr Zarkov, a British gentleman, would not follow.

“But what does it mean?” demanded Angdonlay.

“Nothing”, said Dale, “you have to read 600 pages of the Book only to find out the Crock is a warm fluffy feeling.”

“A bit like bunny rabbits?”

“Very much so.”