Stop off in Kensington to see my old philosopher and clockmaker friend, Gurk MacGregor. I find him standing inside one of his clocks. Gurk tells me that he helping his nephew, Dirk, from Buchanhavan. I tell Gurk that, the last time I saw Dirk, he had made a time altering machine, that didn’t work. Gurk says that Dirk’s machine doesn’t work because it is meant to be linked to a pendulum, but Angus, the scientist in charge of the pendulum, has been chosen for a role in the Buchanhaven Play, and this has distracted him from the project. I tell Gurk that Angus will be performing as Mrs Mouse in the play and remind him that Angus is spending a lot of time studying the behaviour of mice as, in their own generations, Angus’s father and grandfather both acted the part, to great acclaim, so family honour is at stake.
I ask Gurk how he is helping Dirk and he explains that he thinks it will be possible to make up for lost time if the time that is lost can be found and, he adds, as he has already found the time to find the time, he is very optimistic. I have no idea what he is talking about, but then I remember; philosophy is the result of thinking too much; too much thinking overheats the brain, and, without coolant or lubrication, the mind-juice starts to bubble and comes out of the mouth as hot air, then the brain explodes.
To prevent this happening to Gurk, I quickly open a barrel of chilled Vintage Macduff Special Reserve, a superb coolant and brain lubricant I always keep for such occasions and, although I am bleatingly behind schedule, we find the time to offer toast after toast to all timekeepers. Then, wishing my friend the best of luck, and leaving him a barrel of Vintage Glen Scotia, to keep him lubricated, I stagger on to the
West End, as fast as I possibly can.
Professor Humperdink’s Diary