Saturday, February 18, 2006

Yesterday's Visit Described

I find myself perplexed by the events of yesterday, and wholly incapable of explaining them to any degree of adequacy, so I have elected to give you the accounts offered by the two groups of Academics who visited me. Between them, a single truth may become apparent.


Professor Jessica Flitey's Account: I present a brief account at Mr Carew's request so that he can post it on his internet diary for the enlightenment of his small readership. He insisted that I keep my vocabulary simple as he believes his readership to consist primarily of 'pygmies and gypsies'. Ergo, I have eschewed obfuscatory academic jargon. Interested readers are invited to note that a fuller account of today's events will appear in my forthcoming monograph On Thumbs and Manatees: The Curious Case of Horton Carew (University of Duncairn Press, 2007), alongside many other preternatural episodes that I have recorded in my long history of studying Mr Carew.

I arrived on the morning of Friday 17th February 2006 at Mr Carew's home on the outskirts of Dundee with a select crew of postgrads. Mr Carew's house is situated directly on the notorious Foggie-Toddler ley line and was originally a site for a Victorian abattoir, which is doubtlesly causally linked to the innumerable inexplicable events associated with him. Regrettably, a small team of psychiatric doctors were already talking to Mr Carew when we arrived: these people unfortunately acted in a most unprofessional manner throughout my investigation.

We found Mr Carew in a state of some agitation, his attempt to prepare a tray of tea and battenburg cake for us having been scuppered by poltergeist activity of a particularly vehement type. I had my postgrads conduct a brief seance, and they quickly concluded that the battenburg had been sabotaged by the spirit of a departed Victorian Medium, apparently frustated that her ability to converse with the dead was no longer very impressive.


She admitted via oujia board that she had been toying with Mr Carew for a long while, and habitually messed up his hair while he slept (Mr Carew confirms that his hair is frequently dishevelled upon waking). She also stated that she had occassionally taken on the form of a top-hatted purveyor of mints (certainly the 'Uncle Joe' figure that Mr Carew has spoken of) and had aggravated Mr Carew for sport.

The tea was cold, though we witnessed Mr Carew pour it out boiling hot. I used an electronic temperature gauge and discovered that there were several cold spots around the building. Exploring a suspicion I've harborbed for some time, I hypnotised Mr Carew and regressed him through several past lives. My hypothesis was confirmed: in an earlier life, Mr Carew was a cannibalistic eskimo. It is clear that he is projecting memories of an Arctic environment onto his present day surroundings.

A short interview was conducted with Mr Carew. He claimed to be unable to remember anything about the 'Uncle Joe' figure, and instead talked at length concerning his belief that bees are mammilian and capable of being milked. This is only conjecture as I will need to get my colleague Dr. Fulcrum to mind-read Mr Carew first, but I believe that Mr Carew may be psychically linked to a being from an alternative universe in which bees are farmed for milk.



Dr. Anthony Gland's Account: When we arrived at Horton's house, we found that he was terribly upset because he had dropped a batternburg cake and lost his tea-cosy. He was anxious to impress us and had become worked up when his ideal view of our meeting had failed to match up with reality. Horton, old chap, try not to worry so much! :-)

We had a little chat and managed to settle him and put his mind at rest. Just then a team from Duncairn University showed up and caused all manner of fuss with their mumbo-jumbo - Horton became excitable and overwrought, as they fuelled his fantasy life and encouraged his delusions. I have to say that I found their conduct despicable, and the psuedoscience and nonsense that they peddle is simply depressing!

There is nothing supernatural about the things plaguing Horton! I have prescribed a course of anti-hallucinogen tablets and recommended that he return to our weekly therapy sessions. He would benefit greatly from joining a club of some sort and getting out to meet people.

When Professor Flitey and her team left, Horton began talking in tongues and seemed to levitate, while the sound of sea chanteys came from underground. This elaborate fabrication, no doubt done with sophistciated wires and tape-recorders, had obviously been constructed by Horton to impress Professor Flitey and her team, but he clearly misjudged the duration of Professor Flitey's stay and left it too late. You see, this is the danger of Flitey's involvement in this case - it causes Horton to act up, and go to ludicrous lengths to maintain the fantasy world he has created! After this behaviour stopped, I let him know I was not impressed, and left.


After reading through these accounts, dear readers, I have to confess that I remember nothing of their visit. Today I have been looking for bees.

3 comments:

Stuart Kerrigan said...

Reminds me of your birthday in '03 with the cabbage hats and the ectoplasmic angel delight!

Professor Jessica Flitey said...

Mr. Carew, I would like to thank you for a very rewarding day last Friday. Much was learned. It was unfortunate that so more oddities occured in my absence, unobserved by myself. What Dr. Gland's limited experience tells him was 'staged', I have no doubt was further proof of the supernatural.

Additionally, I have an undergraduate student, Lindsay Lassiter (21), who wishes to study you for her 4th year dissertation. Would you be amenable?

Horton Carew said...

I am delighted that you and your team garnered so much new information from your most recent visit. It was nice to see you.

I am not sure I feel comfortable about having a young woman question me. I am at ease in your company only because you have your hair in a bun. Would Miss Lassiter have her hair styled in a similar manner?