You're gonna bloody well read this...
I took the time to write this rubbish, so you can damn well read it!
In the thread about Dan Brown (a third class writer who has achieved major finacial success, typical of the average consumer's judgement, sadly), I posted a satirical story I wrote in Dan Brown's accurate (ho-ho :razz: ) style, but with a Spectrum slant. I put the first three parts in there, and was about to post the final part, but it occurs to me that not many people will have read through that thread anyway, since many people will have been put off by the name "Dan Brown" anyway. So I asked Lee Forgarty if he wanted to put it in ZX Shed, but he wisely refused, as it was too full of injokes and (deliberate, unlike Dan Brown's efforts) innacuracies that might be hard to follow for some people, so I thought I'd create a new topic for it, so more people might see it.
Actually, it's not the "story" (such as it is) I mind so much, it's the fact that I spent over an hour thinking of the clues, and no-ones going to see them, let alone try to solve them. They're probably either too obscure or too easy, depending on whether you know the answers or not, but I'm bored, so I want to see if anyone can solve the clues (probably, what with us Speccy owners being such a bright lot ;) ). If anyone wants to read the (rushed and unedited) story then here it is, or just go to the sixth post for the clues to the secret password.
Go on, it'll pass a bit of time.
In the thread about Dan Brown (a third class writer who has achieved major finacial success, typical of the average consumer's judgement, sadly), I posted a satirical story I wrote in Dan Brown's accurate (ho-ho :razz: ) style, but with a Spectrum slant. I put the first three parts in there, and was about to post the final part, but it occurs to me that not many people will have read through that thread anyway, since many people will have been put off by the name "Dan Brown" anyway. So I asked Lee Forgarty if he wanted to put it in ZX Shed, but he wisely refused, as it was too full of injokes and (deliberate, unlike Dan Brown's efforts) innacuracies that might be hard to follow for some people, so I thought I'd create a new topic for it, so more people might see it.
Actually, it's not the "story" (such as it is) I mind so much, it's the fact that I spent over an hour thinking of the clues, and no-ones going to see them, let alone try to solve them. They're probably either too obscure or too easy, depending on whether you know the answers or not, but I'm bored, so I want to see if anyone can solve the clues (probably, what with us Speccy owners being such a bright lot ;) ). If anyone wants to read the (rushed and unedited) story then here it is, or just go to the sixth post for the clues to the secret password.
Go on, it'll pass a bit of time.
Post edited by ewgf on
Comments
Andrew Owen, founder and maintainer of The World of Spectrum, the second biggest ZX Spectrum WWW site, after the fantastic Gamestage.com, was working on his computer. His computer was a Macintosh, which was Micro-soft's best selling computer, and he was talking to it, as speech recognition is far more reliable and precise than keyboard entry will ever be.
"Update:", he began, and the screen display, known as the hard copy, showed his words as he spoke them, "today I recived a passworded .bmp file, sent via Minesweeper, but the anonymous user didn't send the password. Please could that person get in touch again and...". he broke off as a masked assassin kicked down the door then climbed in through the window.
"Who are you?", asked Andrew speechlessly, as he stared at the assassin's face, trying to recognise him.
"Shut up", yelled the assasin quietly (so as not to alert anyone else in the building), then he pulled out a sub automatic .44 Magnum (like the one used by Clint Eastwood in Raiders of the Lost Ark, where he said "make my Dave") and shot Andrew Owen straight through the heart.
"Ow", said poor Andrew, "You'll never get what you're after. All has been prepared for". Then he died.
"Tell me where to find what I'm seeking for", snarled the assassin.
"No", said Andrew, and he got up and run past the assassin, put his coat on, set the video to record Only Fools and Horses, realised he hadn't got his keys, spent fifteen minutes looking for them until he realised that they were in his jeans pocket, and jumped straight through the twelth story window, and landed on the back of a lorry that was carrying some soft stuff, maybe a mattress or some concrete slabs.
The assasin stared out of the window, knowing his time was limited. It had been proven back in 1596, by Alexander Flemming, that when your heart is stopped, you only have three hours left to live. Unless you have a heart transplant, of course. Heart transplants had been pioneered in 2009 by Charles Dickens, author of Alice in Wonderland, and were now available in every branch of Burger King, which was no doubt where Andrew Owen was headed. When he'd had a heart replacement, and probably burger and chips, then no doubt Andrew would be back, accompanied by some ninja bodyguards, so the assassin had to be quick.
The assassin looked through the room. The item he sought must be here somewhere. His eyes settled on the ZX Spectrum on the table on the wall. The ZX Spectrum was invented in 1269 by Sir Alan Sugar. It's a 12 bit computer, a bit being a colour that appears on screen, the more colours a computer has, the faster it is. Like all computers, it was powered by a mixture of fish and pencils, and it's speed was measured in volts per hour. With a screwdriver in one hand, a hammer in the other, and a spanner in the other, the assassin advanced upon the Spectrum.
Henry removed the Spectrum's cover. His eyes lit up, as underneath he saw...
"Ztop Vight Zere", said a voice. Hilary and Peter turned around, to see three people had entered the eighth story room; these were Andrew Owen, who'd just had a heart transplant and a double cheeseburger, Mel the Bell, Martijn van der Heide, and Andrew Owen. All four of them were armed with big guns, except for Andrew, who had two ninja swords.
"Put zat down, begorra", commanded Martijn, who was foreign, "or zou will feel ze wrath of ze secret Spectrum army, boyo". But instead of capitulating, Hugh and Peter launched themselves at the Spectrum users, guns in hand. The brutal fight, which lasted for hours, was over in seconds. Fighting had been invented in 1989, and had been proven to be beneficial to your health. Indeed, 102% of all doctors now recommend getting your head kicked in as the best cure for a weak heart. So at the end of the fight, the Spectrum owners were stood around the two assassins, as the two assassins were sat on the floor, exhausted but in excellent heatlth, and the two assassins were surrounded by the Spectrum users, who weren't hurt either. Just like the Spectrum users.
"Mein Got!", snarled Martijn, "vat for did you zteel ze contents of zat Spectrum, innit?"
"You mean you don't know?", asked Hedley, "didn't you know what was in there?"
"No", replied Andrew, wishing he'd brought a couple of hamburgers home with him, "I bought it from the internet. At a car boot sale". He put down his gun and picked up the assassins' bag. Opening it up he whistled in amazment. Inside was a Sinclair Loki computer. Only three had been made, and of these, only five were known to survive.
"Damn", he said, "I was hoping it was a hamburger".
"Turn it on", said Mel in excitement, "it might have porn on it".
"Alright!", said Andrew excitedly, and he pressed the ON switch which was a feature of all Sinclair computers, right back to the Spectrum, but instead of pornagraphic images, a program listing appeared. The listing was:
10 CLS
20 PRINT INK 0; PAPER 0; "Please enter code number"
30 INPUT x
40 IF x = x THEN LET x = x
50 DESTROY INTERNET
The Spectrum users stared at the program listing in horror. This program was clearly designed to bring down the internet. And what's more it would clearly work, by utilising the authors obvious knowledge of the internet. The internet was a big computer, kept underground in a secret location, that you and your family can visit on a day trip and see the internet computer in action, but so far no-one had thought of destroying the internet, though many people had tried. And most of them had failed.
"You won't stop us", said Hooch, "there are four more Loki's out there somewhere with that code on them, and it will only take one of them to run, and the internet will stop being existing, forever".
"Then we must find those other five Loki's, before they fall into enemy hands", proclaimed Andrew, "and on the way we'll stop for hamburgers".
"Ja", agreed Martijn, "Und ve must find ze person or ze persons who vote zees program in ze first place, have it!".
But just then...
"Hello?", came a heavily disguised voice from the phone, "is that you Hal? Have you found the Loki computer yet? It doesn't matter if you haven't, 'cos I'm in Jumping Stack's house now, and I've found his secret Loki, so I'm just about to use it to destroy the internet. Now nothing can stop my evil plan from being fruitation-ful. Mwah hah hah"
"Skarpo?", said Andrew, recognising the voice, "is that you?"
The phone went dead. "Oh no", said Andrew worredly, "It seems that Skarpo is our evil nemisis, and he's captured Jumping Stack, and he's about to use Jumping Stack's secret Loki to destroy the internet this very second. We're too late!".
Mel the Bell looked up suddenly and announced "No we're not".
"Yes we are", moaned Andrew miserably, "no more free porn. Now I'll have to go back to buying it, and decent porn's hard to find in England. Bloody censors".
"No", explained Mel, "Look, Jumping Stack lives in New York, right? And we're in London? That means we're eight hours ahead of them".
"So?", frowned Andrew.
"The time difference", spelt out Mel, "it's 10:35 here, so it's only 2:35 in America, but the phone call here was a minute ago, at 10:34, right?".
"Yes...", said Andrew thoughtfully, who was beginning to get it.
"So we have just under eight hours to get to New York and prevent Skarpo from making the phone call to you, or at least to prevent him from activating the Loki program", said Mel.
"Of course", said Andrew slapping his own forehead, "why didn't I realise that? Let's go!".
Andrew, Mel and Martijn went straight to the airport, caught a plane to Washington Dulles airport and got a Taxi to Jumping Stack's house in New York. After an exciting car chase, which they barely survived, they got out of the taxi, outside Jumping Stack's house. As Andrew paid the taxi driver (two pounds ninety pence for the five mile trip), Andrew said to Mel "Blimey, it's warm here". And indeed it was warm, owing to New York being in the southern hemisphere, which was also why, in Australia, when you fill a bath with water, the water comes out of the opposite tap to the one you turn on.
"Shhh", said Mel, as they reached Jumping Stack's front door, "listen?". From inside the house they heard "...about to use it to destroy the internet. Now nothing can stop my evil plan from being fruitation-ful. Mwah hah hah". Quickly, Martijn kicked down the door, and they charged in to see Skarpo switching off the phone and reaching for a Loki. Andrew gave Skarpo a right hook uppercut, and Skarpo fell to the floor, dazed.
"Ha", laughed Andrew, "we've thwarted your evil scheme now, Skarpo. But why did you want to bring down the internet? Think of all that free porn you'd be depriving yourself of"
"The internet has to be stopped", explained Skarpo, "for the good of the human race".
"Don't listen to him", came a voice from the next room. Andrew rushed to the next room's door, opened it, and saw Jumping Stack tied up and gagged.
"Mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmm", said Jumping Stack, through the gag. Andrew removed the gag, and cut J.S. free. "Don't listen to him", repeated J.S., "he's lying. He wants to destroy the internet for his own evil purpose, to prevent your destiny".
"My destiny", asked Andrew, puzzled.
"Yes", J.S. told him, "see, I've been researching this for years, and I finally know the truth. To begin with, your name isn't Andrew Owen".
"Shut up", snarled Andrew, or whatever his name was.
"Eh?", asked Mel, "what is his name, then".
"Oh alright then", muttered Andrew, looking daggers at J.S., "You many as well know the truth. My name isn't Andrew Owen. It's Andrea Elizabeth Owen. See, when I was born, my nob was so small, the doctors thought I was a girl, so I was given a girls name".
"Er, no", said J.S., "I didn't mean that, I meant that your name is really Andrew Sinclair, even though you don't know it".
"Is it?", asked Andrew in surprise, then he added unconvincingly, "I was just, er, joking about the Andrea bit. And anyway, it's what you do with your nob that counts", he continued defensively, "and if I ever get a bird, and I will, whatever everyone else says, then I'll prove it".
Jumping Stack coughed, then continued, "You see, Andrea- I mean Andrew, you are the great-great-great-great etc grandson of Clive of Sinclair, and you are fated to design the greatest computer of all, the Spectrum SE".
Andrew stared at him in amazement "What me? Design the greatest computer ever? But I don't know anything about computers. Anyway, surely that should be done by a complete genius, like ewgf?"
"No", said J.S., "you'd think so, but ewgf is too busy having loads of sex with lots of great looking women. Jammy git. You're definately the one to do it. It's in the prophesy".
"What prophesy?", asked Mel.
"You know the Beatles song Yesterday?" asked J.S. And of course Andrew did. Everyone knew Yesterday, it was the second best song Ringo Star ever wrote, after Bohemian Rhapsody and When I'm Cleaning Windows. "Well", continued J.S., "there is a missing final verse, cut from the single's release, which goes:
Yesterday,
The fat tart left but I'm OK,
'cos you see I'm going to play,
on my Spectrum SE today,
built by the the man with a nob,
so tiny it's microscopic,
who's really a descendant of
Clive Sincla-ir
Suddenly, Windows' hold on the computer world,
will be gone when Andrew Sinclair's Spectrum SE,
is released, and saves us all,
from the crashing, the blue screens of death,
the driver errors and the
"illegal operation" errors.
Mel wiped away a tear. "That's beautiful", he said.
J.S. nodded. "And there you have it, Andrew. It's your destiny to design the Spectrum SE, and free us all from Micro-soft, once and for all".
"Hurray!", cheered Mel happily.
"But I can't design a computer", said Andrew, "I can't even draw a Union Jack properly - have you seen my avatar?"
"No problem", replied J.S., "the plans for the SE already exist, Sir Clive posted them on the 'net all those centuries ago, in a passworded bitmap format. That's why Skarpo wanted to close down the internet, so you never found the bitmap file. But now that you have the file, all you have to do is work out the password, open the file's contents, build the SE from the design and we'll be free to use computers that work properly. Now, where's that password protected bitmap file I sent you?"
"Oh", realised Andrew, "it was you who sent that file to me? You didn't write your return e-mail address. Anyway, I've left the file at home".
"What?", exclaimed J.S., "you should have brought it with you".
"Don't you have another one?", asked Andrew.
"No", replied J.S., "I e-mailed you the only one I had. We'll have to go back to your house and get it".
"Not so fast", came a voice from behind them. Andrew, Martijn, Mel and Jumping Stack turned around to see Skarpo pointing a gun at them, "it's over, Owen, or should I say Sinclair. Your quest has failed".
"But why, Skarpo", pleaded Andrew, "what can you possibly gain from stopping the creation of the SE?"
"Haven't you worked it out yet?", asked Skarpo, and he peeled of his face, which was really a very clever mask, to reveal his real face beneath.
"Bill Gates!", exclaimed Andrew, Mel and J.S., whilst Martijn exclaimed "Ze Beel Gates, oo-ar."
"Yes", said Bill Gates, "I infiltrated the World of Spectrum years ago, under my psuedonym of Skarpo, Skarpo being a French word meaning 'a stinking rich businessman going under cover on a Spectrum website with the intention of bringing down the Spectrum users'".
"Of course", said Andrew, "I realised that, and I never picked up on it. What a fool!".
"Anyway", continued Bill Gates, "You're all going to prison for life, for the murder of me", and he shot himself through the head and fell down, dead.
"L.A.P.D. Stop right there", came a shout, and the front door was kicked in, and lots of policeman came in, with guns and stuff. They surrounded Andrew, Mel, Martijn and Jumping Stack, and pointed their guns at them. "You're under arrest for the murder of Bill Gates", said one of the coppers.
"But we're innocent", protested Andrew, feebly, knowing that no-one would belive them.
But just then...
"It seems you police chaps have the wrong bally end of the stick, dear boys".
Everyone turned to Martijn van der Heide, from whom this utterence had uttered, and Martijn continued "I'm rather afraid my friends and I have been set up to appear guilty, don't you know".
"But you're foreign", said Mel in amazement.
"Afraid not, old boy", replied Martijn, "that was just a pose, to throw our friend Mr Gates here off my track. Truth is, I'm Oxford born and bred".
"Shut up limey", said one of the coppers, "you're coming down town with us to the slammer and you'll do twenty to ten in the pen for life for murder one you sick mo-fo's"
"Excuse me gentlemen", pointed out Martijn to the coppers, "but no murder has been committed. Look out", he shouted suddenly, "it's the Monopolies and Mergers Commitee".
"Oh bugger", swore Bill Gates, as he got up and looked around. Everyone except Martijn stared at Gates in amazement.
"He, he's not dead", stammered Andrew.
"He had no intention of dying", said Martijn, "he just wanted it to appear that way so as to frame us, the bounder".
"But how did you know", asked Bill Gates, in a wanting to know sort of way.
"Simple, my deceitful friend", replied Martijn, in an explaining sort of way, "if you had killed yourself, then you'd have been doing what your customers wanted, and when have you or your company ever done what your customer wanted?"
"Of course", said Mel, "why didn't we see that straight away?"
"Oh bugger", said Andrew, who'se dreams of hot showers with naked girlies was slipping away from him, "look officers, can you arrest me for something, anything? I've been a bad girlie, you know, and should be sent to a women's prison".
"No", said Bill Gates, "Officers, kill them all"
"Why", asked one of the cops, perplexed, "what crime have they committed?"
"None", said Gates, "but I'm rich and influental"
"Understood, sir", said the coppers, and started shooting at Andrew, Martijn, Mel and Jumping Stack. Each shot was unfailingly accurate, but luckily missed. The four Spectrum heros ran away quickly and found four Harley Davidson motorbikes, really big and nice ones, like you see in films, and rode off on them, pursued by lots of police cars.
"This is exciting", said Jumping Stack, as he weaved in and out of traffic along the motorway that ran from New York due south to Chicago.
"Indeed", agreed Matijn, "absolutely top hole, old chum". And to make it perfect, Andrew turned on his bike's stereo and started to play Meatloaf's "I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" at full blast. And the four of them sped towards Chicago, into the sunset. This'd make a great film, wouldn't it?
When they got to Chicago, it was almost midnight. They found an old abandoned airbase, and, sneaking past all of the pilots and passengers, the Speccy four made their way over to a luxury private jet. Fortunately, the darkness hid them from prying eyes, but even so, Mel kept a look out, whilst Andrew crowbarred the door away from the plane, and then Andrew, Martijn and J.S. got in, whilst Mel started up the propellor. Then Mel got into the plane as well, and shut the door, as Andrew started up the plane.
"Where to?", asked Andrew.
"Back to your flat", replied J.S., "so we can access the bitmap file that I sent you, then you can begin work on the Spectrum SE".
"Ok", said Andrew, and he checked the mirror, put the plane into first gear, indicated (in case any plane was coming up from behind, always good practice), and took off. The plane soared majestically in the air, whilst everyone down below looked up, shielding their eyes from the sun, and the airport security ran about in confusion.
Andrew flew the plane confidently, doing a steady thirty miles per hour, so as not to get pulled up for speeding. He didn't have a license, so he couldn't afford to get stopped by the coppers.
On the way, they all sang lots of cheerful songs, which again, would make a great bit in a film. If it was done properly, I mean. With decent music, and a great bit of scenery. And maybe some topless women. Just to add some class.
Anyway, when they arrived back in Liverpool, at Andrew's block of flats, Andrew went to land on the roof. He overshot it slightly, so he had to reverse, but landed neatly the second time. Then he, Mel, Martijn, Jumping Stack and Andrew all opened the stairwell door on the roof, and went up the stairs. Stairs had been invented in Narnia, in 1274, after Sir Issac Newton invented gravity. Until Newton came along, there was no gravity, so people used to just fly to the higher stories of buildings. But since Sir Newton invented gravity, people couldn't fly no more, at least not without planes or jetpacs and stuff, so stairs had been invented to allow people to reach the upper floors of buildings. The biggest manufacturer of stairs in the world was ISSAC NEWTON'S STAIRS Ltd., who had been founded by Mr Newton to supply stairs at vastly inflated prices to people so that they could reach their bedrooms and bathrooms.
After climbing up several flights of stairs, the Speccy crew went into Andrew's flat.
"Where's my computer gone", exclaimed Andrew, as he looked at his desk top, empty now, apart from all of the stuff on it. But his computer wasn't on it, even though it should have been. It was gone. And it wasn't even there, though Andrew looked for it.
"It's been stolen", announced Mel dramatically.
And Martijn added "Deuced bad show, old chap. Awfully bad manners if you ask me".
***************************
Lee Fogarty, as he drove away from Andrew's flat in his shiny black porsche (bought from all the sales of ZX Shed) smiled as he pulled out his mobile phone. He dialed a number, waited for the answer, and said "Mr Gates? I've got Andrew Owen's computer. Yes, it's in my boot. He'll never get his hands on that bitmap file now. I'll be at the meeting point in an hour. Don't forget my money". And he put down the phone and began to laugh manically. Soon he'd have his revenge on the Spectrum owners who looked down on his poor moderating skills, and his lack of judgement... So what if he couldn't recognise a good story when he was offered it? Soon he'd be rich, rich RICH!!!
***************************
"Harry Price", swore Andrew angrily, "Where's my Mac? Who'se stole my Mac?"
"It doesn't matter who", pointed out Jumping Stack, "what matters is that we get it back, and find that bitmap file".
"Actually, old bean", said Martijn, "I'd have thought there was no need to actually gain repossesion of said computer, surely simply accessing the thing via remote networking would be enough. Say a selective use of the DELTREE command, mixed with a custom DOS batch file and a quick edit of the Mac's AUTOEXEC.BAT file?"
"Genius", said Andrew, Mel and J.S. in amazement.
"Not at all", said Martijn modestly, "elementary when you think about it".
So Andrew took his laptop out of the wardrobe, plugged in his wireless 32K modem, which he connected to the phone socket, turned on the laptop, and began to type.
***************************
As Lee Forgarty sang cheerfully to the song of Don Mclean's Vincent, which was emanating from his car stereo, he was unaware of what was happening in the boot of his car (or the trunk of his car, as people in America had called it since 2004); as Andrew, many miles away typed on his laptop, the stolen Macintosh computer in Lee's boot (trunk) turned itself on, and the monitor displayed the message:
But of course Lee was oblivious to this as he sang "... good old boys were drinking whisky and rye, singing this'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die...".
***************************
"Got it", said Andrew, triumphantly and successfully, as he downloaded the bitmap file from the distant Macintosh, and he stared in satisfaction as the bitmap file appeared on his laptop. "Now to serve that thief right", he further added, and he sent fifty million vaults down the phone line to the Macintosh.
***************************
The Macintosh in the back of Lee's car exploded in a fire ball fifty feet high, the car was vapourised, and Lee died. Ha. Serves him right for being such a rotten judge of submitted material. Justice!
***************************
"Right", Andrew said, to his fellow Speccy fans, "let's see what's in this bitmap file".
A bitmap file is the most common compressed format in the world. It contains text and pictures, and has an uncrackable password feature built in. Bitmap files are made out of bits of old ordinance survey maps that no-one wants anymore, which is good for the environment. Plus they can't carry viruses, which is good as if a computer catches a cold or aids or something then it can turn into a Dalek and kill it's owner. As had been proven by Doctor Who, when he was still on telly. Before he turned to the dark side, and became Darth Vader.
Andrew called up the bitmap file onto his computer display, and following message appeared:
Andrew paused; after a few moments he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, muttering "password... password". But no inspiration came.
"Have you looked through your other e-mails?", asked Jumping Stack.
"Yeah, just junk mail", replied Andrew distractedly.
"You sure?", asked J.S, frowning.
"Yep.", shrugged Andrew, "All rubbish. And those "organ enhancment" e-mails are a complete con. I've tried them all, but I still need an electron microscope to see my cock. I've spent a fortun-"
"No", interrupted J.S., "I mean, I sent you an e-mail along with the bitmap file, contanming the ancient clues of Camelot, drawn up by Merlin in the eight century, when he used to steal from the rich to give to the poor. The clues are supposed to provide access to the password, but according to legend can only be cracked by a true Spectrum user".
"I don't remember that e-mail", said Andrew, and he loaded up Windows Media Player to check his e-mails. "Here it is", he said eventually, "bloody Windows flagged it as spam. Yet it lets Mel's circulars through all the time!".
"Hey", protested Mel, "My teen websites are very respectable. And all of the bananas are organic, too. Very moral, I am".
Andrew shushed him, and opened the e-mail, revealing the clues for all to see.
"Blimey", said Mel, as they all stared at the clues on screen, and Martijn added "By George, old boy. Complicated stuff, I should bally well cocoa".
But Andrew simply said "Not at all", and typed in the password. The bitmap file opened, revealing the plans the legendary Spectrum SE, and Andrew, Mel, Jumping Stack and Martijn stared open mouthed at the awesome beauty of the Spectrum SE, which was to revolutionise computing forever.
The End
Anyway, if anyone's interested, here's the clues. Can you work out the password?
Take the specified letter from each of these answers and arrange them into the name of a well known Spectrum game. Add a prefix or suffix if necessary.
"He wrote everything, and he wrote nothing" (fourth letter)
"Two who played the wandering, nameless physician were named for this profession". (first letter)
"In this story, Miss Liddell finds no bishops amongst the ranks". (first letter)
"The real name of the man who, for thirty-two years, sent his pupils to a boarding school, most famous of whom were an obese liar and the celebrated quintet" (first letter of surnamen).
"Alive it flies, but not when wood". (first letter)
"Too authorative to be mistaken for the Messiah, he used to work in the quartermasters department, though not, surprisingly enough, in a big top" (second letter of Christian name)
Probably not very good clues, but give 'em a go, they're the only thing in this entire thread I spent any real time on.
You could always edit your first post to tell people to go to the 7th post.
I actually liked all the jumping around and the inaccuracies, a blatant piss-take but non-the-less quite humourous, to the point where I did actually chuckle to myself whilst reading. Well done, it killed some time to say the least.
Grey Key is now officially the greatest Spectrum user ever!
Anyone else want to guess the answer, or should I just post it up?
bung it in a spoiler box.
I'd rather embarrass Wilsonsamm!
Some did, in the other thread. No-one took offence, of course, as it's obviously meant humourously and not as serious comment. And anyone who posts on WOS must have a sense of humour anyway. ;)
Still, I've not dared to walk down any dark alleyways recently :o
OK. If anyone's interested, here's the solution (which that genius Grey Key cracked very quickly, by the way, obviously too much time on his hands ;) ).
"He wrote everything, and he wrote nothing" (fourth letter)
Mr Kizza, fourth letter = I
"Two who played the wandering, nameless physician were named for this profession". (first letter)
Baker; Tom Baker and Colin Baker both starred as Doctor Who. First letter = B
"In this story, Miss Liddell finds no bishops amongst the ranks". (first letter)
"Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There" (the real name of the book "Alice Through the Looking Glass"), in which all of the pieces of a Chess board appear, except for the Bishops. First letter = T
"The real name of the man who, for thirty-two years, sent his pupils to a boarding school, most famous of whom were an obese liar and the celebrated quintet" (first letter of surnamen).
Charles Hamilton, the most prolific author ever, who had over twenty pen-names, and wrote on many subjects. He is most famous for his psudenym Frank Richards, under which he created Greyfriars School and it's many inhabitants, including Billy Bunter and the Famous Five (not Enid Blyton's Famous Five, the Greyfriars' Famous Five were created long before she used the nickname, and consisted of Harry Wharton, Bob Cherry, Frank Nugent, Hurree Singh and Johnny Bull).
Incidentally, Bunter and co. were created in a weekly magazine devoted to them, in 1908, and for thirty-two years Frank Richards wrote a weekly story, every week, until the war-caused paper shortages of 1940 forced the closure of the magazine. After the war, the Magnet (the weekly magazine) never restarted, but Richards went on to write something like thirty-odd books based around Bunter and co.
Thirty-two years, writing a (twenty four page, on average) A4 magazine every week. Incredible. And at the same time, he wrote for other magazines and books too. And the standard of his writing was very high. Yet sadly many people haven't even heard of him anymore. Whilst Dan Brown is known to all.
We don't deserve quality...
Anyway, first letter of surname = H
"Alive it flies, but not when wood". (first letter)
Bat (cricket bat, baseball bat etc, also the only flying mammal). First letter = B
"Too authorative to be mistaken for the Messiah, he used to work in the quartermasters department, though not, surprisingly enough, in a big top" (second letter of Christian name)
John Cleese; he was considered to play Brian in the Monty Python's Life of Brian, but rejected as he was considered too authorative, so they gave it to the bemused looking Graham Chapman instead. Cleese played R (Q's successor) in two Bond films, Q being short for Quartermaster of course, and despite it's name, Monty Python's Flying Circus was not set in a circus.
Second letter of Christian name = O
The letters are: I, B, T, H, B, O
Re-arrange them and you get Hobbit, bung a The on the front and you have the password!
P.S. Keep up the stories ( although I believe your re-write called Lord of the Ring is a bit too rude to publish )