Sentence The Seventyfirst
Meanwhile, as our Magic Carpet flies once again over the rooftops of Edinburgh, passing above Mansions in which Oiligarchs plot, semis in which the middle classes slumber, the odd secure villa – the like of which shelters Martin Elginbrod, his sons and his servants – and Tenements and Tower Blocks which rise high into the sky affording the ordinary commonality views of The Pentlands to the South, or the broad expanse of the Firth of Forth which is the city's Northern shore, we come to rest above a building which is a hive of activity, even at this late hour, for here, in Daphne's flat –also
the legal residence of her Dearest Maudie Рand now the base in which Roxy and Trixie Davidova, Leigh Waters, Ginger Goldfish, the indefatigable WPC Isa Urquhart, Elvira Dumbiedykes and Goldy Brevity Рnieces every one, of both Daphne and Maude, were working an astonishing variety of shifts Рbefore after and between their day jobs Рto assemble a dossier on Parlane MacFarlane, Griselda of Longformacus, and their Genealogy, as well as following the property trail from those dark years of Scotland's Middle-Ages right down to the present day: Elvira had eviscerated the national Archives stored at New Register House and elsewhere; Leigh Рsomething of a cybrarian Рhad gone through the Scotland's People database with an internet tooth comb; the Davidovas had wiped away the r̦ck d̦ts Рthose flourishes which the aspirational have, through history, used to give themselves a better pedigree or origination than prosaic reality; and Ginger and Goldy, twin sisters Рthough each
with quite different hair colours – were raising a stinkaroo in their pursuit of MacFarlane and Griselda's trail through the Gene Pool (they had accessed the recent Scottish DNA Project and by a process of elimination were working to isolate the bloodline of direct descent and, as a result, discovering quite a few under-the-blanket liaisons which raised a few eyebrows – for others were monitoring their on-line activities: The Economic Migrant, despite his tender years, had such an advanced system of
surveillance that he had picked up their extensive trawling by making use of a range of critical keywords, and had identified the computers being used and their location and by discovering the normal locations of the various devices, for all the cousins had brought their own laptops and tablets to the flat, he had identified the people involved – when he noticed that two of them were Police Scotland Officers normally based at the Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub, he sent a secure message to The O'Hooligans (his clients, after all) to alert them – not bad work for a 12-year-old Syrian boy operating from an under-the-stairs cupboard in his family home in Drumchapel; he opened a can of Irn Bru and a Snickers Bar in celebration!
Meanwhile, as our Magic Carpet flies once again over the rooftops of Edinburgh, passing above Mansions in which Oiligarchs plot, semis in which the middle classes slumber, the odd secure villa – the like of which shelters Martin Elginbrod, his sons and his servants – and Tenements and Tower Blocks which rise high into the sky affording the ordinary commonality views of The Pentlands to the South, or the broad expanse of the Firth of Forth which is the city's Northern shore, we come to rest above a building which is a hive of activity, even at this late hour, for here, in Daphne's flat –also
the legal residence of her Dearest Maudie Рand now the base in which Roxy and Trixie Davidova, Leigh Waters, Ginger Goldfish, the indefatigable WPC Isa Urquhart, Elvira Dumbiedykes and Goldy Brevity Рnieces every one, of both Daphne and Maude, were working an astonishing variety of shifts Рbefore after and between their day jobs Рto assemble a dossier on Parlane MacFarlane, Griselda of Longformacus, and their Genealogy, as well as following the property trail from those dark years of Scotland's Middle-Ages right down to the present day: Elvira had eviscerated the national Archives stored at New Register House and elsewhere; Leigh Рsomething of a cybrarian Рhad gone through the Scotland's People database with an internet tooth comb; the Davidovas had wiped away the r̦ck d̦ts Рthose flourishes which the aspirational have, through history, used to give themselves a better pedigree or origination than prosaic reality; and Ginger and Goldy, twin sisters Рthough each
with quite different hair colours – were raising a stinkaroo in their pursuit of MacFarlane and Griselda's trail through the Gene Pool (they had accessed the recent Scottish DNA Project and by a process of elimination were working to isolate the bloodline of direct descent and, as a result, discovering quite a few under-the-blanket liaisons which raised a few eyebrows – for others were monitoring their on-line activities: The Economic Migrant, despite his tender years, had such an advanced system of
surveillance that he had picked up their extensive trawling by making use of a range of critical keywords, and had identified the computers being used and their location and by discovering the normal locations of the various devices, for all the cousins had brought their own laptops and tablets to the flat, he had identified the people involved – when he noticed that two of them were Police Scotland Officers normally based at the Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub, he sent a secure message to The O'Hooligans (his clients, after all) to alert them – not bad work for a 12-year-old Syrian boy operating from an under-the-stairs cupboard in his family home in Drumchapel; he opened a can of Irn Bru and a Snickers Bar in celebration!
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