An alien space-fleet from the lost planet Ceres is heading for Earth. Its destination: Brentford. Its goal: the destruction of the human race.
Meanwhile, in the unsuspecting London suburb, folk go on with their mundane, everyday lives. Jim Pooley and John Omally, engage in rounds of allotment golf. Neville the part-time barman muses upon the coming inter-pub darts tournament. Corner tobacconist Norman is hard at work with his Meccano set. Small Dave, the postman does his daily rounds. And Soap Distant rows his boat and does a bit of fishing. Things look pretty day-to-day in this sleepy backwater, enclosed within the boundaries of the Great West Road, the Grand Union Canal and the River Thames. Which form what is known as The Brentford Triangle.
Appearances can, however, sometimes be deceptive. Norman, for instance, is employing his Meccano set to build a teleportation device, in order to change the world’s weather. Small Dave’s leisure hours are spent in attempts to summon the spirit of Edgar Allen Poe. And Soap Distant rows his boat upon night-dark waters five miles beneath Penge, in search of a subterranean super-race. And that is not to mention Brentonian traveller Archroy, who has recently discovered Noah’s Ark upon the peak of Mount Ararat. Or Professor Slocombe, an ancient magician, who is fathoming the cosmic mysteries of The Brentford Triangle itself.
It might just be that the Cerean strike force will get more than it’s bargained for when it launches its attack. Let’s hope so, because the darts tournament is on this coming Friday and we wouldn’t want anything to stand in the way of The Flying Swan winning it for the sixth year in a row.
The second book in the now legendary Brentford Trilogy, highly acclaimed for its heady mix of suburban fantasy, laugh out loud humour and cast of eccentrically endearing characters brought to you by the Pharoah of Far Fetched Fiction; The Brentford Triangle was first published in 1982 and now diddled-about-with and re-launched into the digital age by notorious Luddite and technophobe Robert Rankin.
Meanwhile, in the unsuspecting London suburb, folk go on with their mundane, everyday lives. Jim Pooley and John Omally, engage in rounds of allotment golf. Neville the part-time barman muses upon the coming inter-pub darts tournament. Corner tobacconist Norman is hard at work with his Meccano set. Small Dave, the postman does his daily rounds. And Soap Distant rows his boat and does a bit of fishing. Things look pretty day-to-day in this sleepy backwater, enclosed within the boundaries of the Great West Road, the Grand Union Canal and the River Thames. Which form what is known as The Brentford Triangle.
Appearances can, however, sometimes be deceptive. Norman, for instance, is employing his Meccano set to build a teleportation device, in order to change the world’s weather. Small Dave’s leisure hours are spent in attempts to summon the spirit of Edgar Allen Poe. And Soap Distant rows his boat upon night-dark waters five miles beneath Penge, in search of a subterranean super-race. And that is not to mention Brentonian traveller Archroy, who has recently discovered Noah’s Ark upon the peak of Mount Ararat. Or Professor Slocombe, an ancient magician, who is fathoming the cosmic mysteries of The Brentford Triangle itself.
It might just be that the Cerean strike force will get more than it’s bargained for when it launches its attack. Let’s hope so, because the darts tournament is on this coming Friday and we wouldn’t want anything to stand in the way of The Flying Swan winning it for the sixth year in a row.
The second book in the now legendary Brentford Trilogy, highly acclaimed for its heady mix of suburban fantasy, laugh out loud humour and cast of eccentrically endearing characters brought to you by the Pharoah of Far Fetched Fiction; The Brentford Triangle was first published in 1982 and now diddled-about-with and re-launched into the digital age by notorious Luddite and technophobe Robert Rankin.