The collection of limited edition art from Peter Smith, and the sequel to his Lost Impossimals.
BLOODLINES IT BEGINS.
BLOODLINES
Peter Smith B.1967
It’s been nearly two years since the original Lost Impossimals made their debut in The Complete Twistory collection. Our story opened with the discovery of a forgotten crate at the National Museum of Antiquities in 2010; a crate filled with paintings of Lost Impossimals creatures painted by the equally mysterious explorer Charles Burroughs whose diaries and field notes found alongside the paintings helped us understand that there is a secret history, a natural twistory, to the Lost Impossimals intertwined with our own. Over the last twelve months I have worked on just twelve paintings, each one starting with a scene built in miniature, scenes that have covered streets, kitchens, meadows, shops, clock towers, underwater and even one set in a fortune telling amusement cabinet. To these scenes, I then added objects, a little fewer than three hundred! Weird items like sandwiches, bank notes, guns, false teeth and balloon whisks. Add a sprinkle of hidden objects, codes to break and things to find twisted with popular culture and icons to mix it all up. Then came the names: The Flamboyant Wriggling Wonky Wonder, The Rampant Jekylled Whatabanker; not your normal names I think you would agree. Finally the stories: a series of letters passed between two people that chart the discovery of the history behind each painting culminating in a murderous game of cat and mouse. What you hold in your hands is the research folder that is Bloodlines, a mentally unstable dash through history for you to discover just what the Lost Impossimals are really all about.
Case 221/B Menacing Moriarty Marauder Baker Street, London, 1892
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 150 Image Size 28” x 18¾” | Framed £565
1892
Case 90/E The Cantering Caketacular Queen of Bakes Suffolk, 1822
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 150 Image Size 23” x 23” | Framed £525
1822
1886
Case 69/C The Rampant Jekylled Whatabanker London, 1886
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 150 Image Size 26” x 16¼” | Framed £450
Over thirty models were specially created for Bloodlines, each one helping Peter to visualise the completed painting and allowing for accurate shadows and depth to be captured in the studio. Not every model turned into a Lost Impossimal. Sixteen were either discarded or remodelled into something else. Two shared the same backdrop but from different angles and one was so heavy it collapsed overnight due to its sheer weight. Made from a variety of materials, Plasticine, balsawood, cardboard, wire and even old curtain material, this was truly an engineering exercise to be proud of! Completed heights ranged from eight inches to two feet with several having a footprint of eight feet. Battery operated lighting rigs were created to act as lampposts, candles and spot glows in the background. Typically three days were taken to create each intricate set: a day of photography followed by two days of sketch and colour preparation. Four weeks of painting brought each to completion and many days of research and story writing at the end of the whole process added nearly three weeks. BEHIND THE SCENES
Case 117/A Agatha’s Watson Wriggler Torquay, 1916
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 150 Image Size 26” x 16¼” | Framed £450
1916
1890
Case 827/C Mysterious Count Carpathian Von Porl Whitby, 1890
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 150 Image Size 26” x 16¼” | Framed £450
Case K2Q/3 Zanbar Austria, 1770
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 150 Image Size 24” x 19½” | Framed £495
1770
1839
Case WWR/D The Flamboyant Wriggling Wonky Wonder London, 1839
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 150 20¾” x 30” | Framed £595
1760
“I’m adding a little something special to each edition of Tuppeny Pennysaurus – I can promise that no two pieces will be the same!” Peter Smith
Case 38/A Tuppenny Pennysaurus Normandy, France 1760-65
Each of the 75 limited edition pieces will be personally remarqued and hand-signed in oil by Peter Smith himself, making each one a truly unique work of art in their own right.
Limited Edition Canvas on Board of 75 Image Size 17½” x 30” | Framed £1,450
Edison’s Sherlock Sidewinder Limited Edition Hand Painted Resin Sculpture of 150 Height 13½” | £295
Dalisaurus Surrealius Limited Edition Hand Painted Resin Sculpture of 150 Height 13½” | £295
HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL
Dr Joseph Bell Perplex Research, Kings Road, Edinburgh EH16 4SD
Head Curator Edward Trumpington National Museum Of Antiquities, Cromwell Row, London SW7 5BD
29th May 2013
THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS HERE
RE: Charles Burroughs Lost Impossimals
Dear Edward Trumpington,
Hope you are well. We have now completed our initial analysis of the Lost Impossimal paintings and include our findings in the attached documents. Unfortunately our research raises more questions than answers and I’m sure you will want to meet to discuss the matter further. Initial ultraviolet fluorescence and infrared reflectography investigations reveal that all the paintings contain pigments from different historical periods whilst carbon dating places individual pieces as being completed on a bewildering timeline starting from dates as early as 1325 and as late as 1989. This is where it gets more puzzling; according to our X-ray radiography report the paintings have been added to over a significant period of time. The Tuppenny Pennysaurus is a prime example; carbon dating the original painting gives us a start date of 1760-65 whilst X-rays shows a single Lost Impossimal stood in a basic landscape that lay for many years untouched. The detailed background was a much later addition around 1780-84 whilst the objects scattered around the Pennysaurus have pigment dates spanning the early nineteenth century. We also noticed they carbon date in clusters, six appear to have been painted in 1499, twelve in 1541 and a further three in 1602. This pattern is repeated over and over again every century, it’s as though we are dealing with paintings that have not been merely ‘Lost’ but rather safeguarded for hundreds of years, steadily their numbers being added to, their complexity increased as if they are trying to shout through history. All this points to the glaring fact that Charles Burroughs, the great Victorian explorer, could not have possibly painted all the Lost Impossimals, the time frame is just too large to even contemplate although I do think at least twelve can be attributed to him. We have stumbled onto something very big indeed, more than one person is involved that is for sure, the Lost Impossimals have their own bloodline, a physical presence through history, we even have a starting date but who painted the first and how and why they exist remains a mystery. One other thing, yesterday I was followed, nothing sinister but I was aware of a distinctly odd fellow watching from the shadow of a doorway. Maybe we should keep this under wraps until we find out just what and who we are dealing with. BLOODLINES
Yours Sincerely,
Dr Joseph Bell Forensic Consultant
Dr Joseph Bell Perplex Research, Kings Road, Edinburgh EH16 4SD
Head Curator Edward Trumpington National Museum Of Antiquities, Cromwell Row, London SW7 5BD
29th May 2013
RE: Charles Burroughs Lost Impossimals
Dear Edward Trumpington,
Hope you are well. We have now completed our initial analysis of the Lost Impossimal paintings and include our findings in the attached documents. Unfortunately our research raises more questions than answers and I’m sure you will want to meet to discuss the matter further. Initial ultraviolet fluorescence and infrared reflectography investigations reveal that all the paintings contain pigments from different historical periods whilst carbon dating places individual pieces as being completed on a bewildering timeline starting from dates as early as 1325 and as late as 1989. This is where it gets more puzzling; according to our X-ray radiography report the paintings have been added to over a significant period of time. The Tuppenny Pennysaurus is a prime example; carbon dating the original painting gives us a start date of 1760-65 whilst X-rays show a single Lost Impossimal stood in a basic landscape that lay for many years untouched. The detailed background was a much later addition around 1780-84 whilst the objects scattered around the Pennysaurus have pigment dates spanning the early nineteenth century. We also noticed they carbon date in clusters, six appear to have been painted in 1499, twelve in 1541 and a further three in 1602. This pattern is repeated over and over again every century, it’s as though we are dealing with paintings that have not been merely ‘Lost’ but rather safeguarded for hundreds of years, their numbers being steadily added to, their complexity increased as if they are trying to shout through history. All this points to the glaring fact that Charles Burroughs, the great Victorian explorer, could not possibly have painted all the Lost Impossimals, the time frame is just too large to even contemplate although I do think at least twelve can be attributed to him. We have stumbled onto something very big indeed, more than one person is involved that is for sure. The Lost Impossimals have their own bloodline, a physical presence through history; we even have a starting date but who painted the first and how and why they exist remains a mystery. One other thing, yesterday I was followed, nothing sinister but I was aware of a distinctly odd fellow watching from the shadow of a doorway. Maybe we should keep this under wraps until we find out just what and who we are dealing with.
Yours Sincerely,
Dr Joseph Bell Forensic Consultant
CASE 38/A
Tuppenny Pennysaurus – Normandy, France 1760-65 This particular painting pre-dates Charles Burroughs but we still find the history of this curious creature in his field notes, probably because the additions of confectionery were added by Charles early on in his career. Although Charles admits no involvement in painting the original Tuppenny Pennysaurus he does describe its curious existence in an 1899 document. ‘The Tuppenny Pennysaurus is indeed a fine creature and can be found in many places around the globe but only in the green and pleasant lands of Normandy can you find one of such delicate beauty. It feeds mostly on beet, a vegetable known for its edible tap roots and pleasing sweet taste which it cultivates in large cleared areas called Beetrusses. The Pennysaurus's existence was threatened in 1801 with the opening of the first sugar beet factory in Kunern, Germany, after the discovery of a beet sugar extraction method in 1747. It was soon found that the tastiest and best beets for the creation of sugar were cultivated by this gentle creature, a creature that spent its days warming in the Normandy sun and nibbling contentedly on its fine crop of beets. Pennysaurus beets became so famous for their sugar yielding properties that vast estates were created in France to look after and protect the Pennysaurus from rival beet processing businesses and even countries. Sugar was big business and it was found that the better you looked after a Pennysaurus the larger the crop it would produce. The whole sugar industry bloomed and in 1837 France became the largest sugar beet producer in the world. To keep the Pennysaurus happy and maintain the special sugar beet crop an annual event was created called ‘Scrumptious Sunday’ on the third Sunday of June where everyone in the region would make special sugar creations or Mixties.’ Charles was documenting the unique sugar ‘Mixties’ in this painting, for what purpose we are unsure but so far we have identified twenty nine including the mysterious Milk Teeth and Sweet Peanuts. It went on display for the very first time in 1840 and we believe it was a direct influence in the creation of George Basset & Co. or Basset’s as the confectionery company is affectionately known.
CASE 90/E
The Cantering Caketacular Queen of Bakes – Suffolk, 1822 Up until 1840 baking was a difficult business and most large country estates relied on trained cooks to create a never ending supply of goodies. Finding a good cook though was filled with pitfalls but in 1822 a mysterious note no bigger than a parcel tag wrapped around a small ornate key was found wedged down the back of an old bureau purchased at an auction in Suffolk. The letter was a recipe; so unusually precise it gave accurate measurements on how to make the ultimate jam tart but used a method of measurement not recognised, the half hoof. The key however fitted no locks on the bureau. Its finder was one Eliza Acton and the bureau was purchased to help write her beloved poetry. It immediately intrigued Eliza’s ordered mind as she read, why was the recipe so accurate and just what was a half hoof? Turning the key over in her hand she wondered at its significance when from the corner of her eye she noticed a wisp of smoke from the back of one of the drawers. Carefully removing it she found to her astonishment a small keyhole, the ornate key fitted perfectly and as she turned it the back of the bureau swung open. The smoke had come from a small chimney stuck in the top of a wooden box the size of a small suitcase that was carefully placed inside the bureau, very slowly she lifted it out; it was warm to the touch. A small handle on the side beckoned to be pulled and pull it she did. The front swung open to reveal what you see in this painting, a miniature kitchen complete with the smallest Cantering Caketacular baking a cake. Dubbed the Queen Of Bakes this spectacular creature had no equal in the kitchen; not only did it know how to bake but it also built great baked sculptures such as the Totemcake, six different cakes balanced one on top of the other decorated with a large heart-shaped Victoria sponge. The Cantering Caketacular Queen of Bakes lived with Eliza for many years and over time revealed its secrets including the elusive half hoof measurement. Eliza turned from writing poetry and started to catalogue each and every detail the Queen of Bakes revealed just as in the note she found. The half hoof was eventually turned into the tablespoon measurement and then added to the first ever collection of recipes aimed at the domestic reader rather than chefs with the inclusion of weights and cooking times, a format that survives to this day. Modern Cookery for Private Families by Eliza Acton was published in 1845 and inspired the Book of Household Management published in 1861, Isabella Beetons formidable tome for the Victorian household. When Eliza passed away in 1859 the bureau and indeed its Queen of Bakes could not be found. What did survive though was a small heart-shaped cutter thought to be the original one to cut out the distinctive shaped tops of the Totemcakes, replicas of which can still be bought today. Rumour has it that this painting has secrets of its own, just take a look in the mousehole.
CASE 221/B
Menacing Moriarty Marauder – Baker Street, London, 1892 After the disappearance of the Sherlock Sidewinder in 1876 Arthur Conan Doyle wrote the very first Sherlock Holmes novel A Study in Scarlet in 1886 as an aide memoir to the strange creature that captivated him and the explorer Charles Burroughs all those years ago. Then one day in 1892 a strange note arrived in an unknown hand, slipped under his door in the middle of the night. Arthur arrived early, a sturdy revolver in his pocket his head full of questions. It was a clear moonlit night; a single lamp-post cast an eerie glow. Arthur checked his watch, two minutes to go but not a soul was around. Then from one of the alleys further up Baker Street he noticed a low drifting mist across the pavement, slowly rolling and billowing in his direction. His hand slipped into his pocket and gripped the revolver. There was a shape in the mist, barely discernible but he could see something strangely writhing towards him. The mists swirled around the creature giving little away as to its shape, was that a hat? a cane? Arthur raised the revolver ready for anything. Anything but the blow that knocked him sideways into a doorway and on to the floor, pinned down by some unknown entity that was wrapped tightly around his body, the mists swirled over his head and a voice whispered ‘Shhhh!’ Unable to move Arthur watched in amazement as the mists parted and he saw the creature for the first time. Looking similar in stature to the Sherlock Sidewinder a most evil looking entity slithered down the street, small beady eyes looked dartingly from left to right whilst a red lined cape swirled around behind. The whole thing felt abhorrent, unnatural as it disappeared around the corner. The voice whispered again ‘Moriarty. The game’s afoot!’ and with that he felt the grip around his waist loosen as something, someone, released its hold and with that was gone. Whatever had appeared so quickly had also disappeared into the shadows the same way. All that was left was an unusual smell, a smell that Arthur recognised, the unmistakable smell of pipe smoke. The Sherlock Sidewinder was back. ‘Be at the corner of Baker Street tonight at 11pm.’ The very next day Arthur visited Charles Burroughs and described his adventure with the strange creature called Moriarty and the return of the Sidewinder, Charles immediately set to work using Arthur’s description to paint the Menacing Moriarty Marauder. Arthur, his head spinning from the events sensed that he was being dragged into something quite sinister. It played on his mind for many weeks, interrupting his frame of mind to such an extent that he decided the only way he was going to get to the bottom of this mystery was to devote time to it. So in 1893 Arthur sent an anguished letter to his mother, the Sherlock Holmes stories were distracting him from the real mystery that had presented itself. ‘I must save my mind for better things’ he wrote, ‘even if it means I kill off Holmes’. The Adventure of the Final Problem was published in 1893, in it Arthur describes a fatal meeting between Sherlock and of course the now infamous Moriarty based on his real life adventure that misty night in Baker Street. It gave Arthur time to really pursue his own personal mystery, one which would lead him to public outcry and his greatest discovery in 1901. When Arthur returned home later that night he found a second note had been slipped under the door. ‘There is more to this than you can possibly imagine’
CASE 117/A
Agatha’s Watson Wriggler – Torquay, 1916 It was the middle of World War I, Torquay hosted a large number of hospitals and convalescent homes to house the mounting casualties coming in from the continent. The Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD) was created with the aim of volunteers attending wounded soldiers, aiding the doctors and boosting morale, posts were quickly taken up by the residents of Torquay. One day a young volunteer was attending the bedside of a young Belgian doctor Monsieur Popeau who had received injuries during the German occupation of Belgium. The injured doctor although severely injured refused to let go of his small doctor’s bag, shouting the words ‘Nee! Niet mijn geliefde Watson!’ (No! Not my beloved Watson!) if anyone made an attempt to remove it. Obviously distressed the young volunteer sat beside the bed trying to calm the doctor down, his injuries would almost certainly lead to death. The only thing she could do was stay with him for the final hours. As darkness fell the young volunteer slowly nodded off to sleep; the patient had been asleep for the last hour after finally calming down when he eventually realised that nobody was going to take his bag. In the early hours of the morning a light touch awoke the volunteer with a start; her patient had reached out to softly waken her and beckoned her closer. ‘Alsjeblieft, voor hem’ (please, for him) he whispered and motioned to the bag as he released his grip on the handle. Slowly he shut his eyes and drifted away to sleep for eternity. She took the bag, lightly placed his hands on his chest and sobbed. She had seen it many times before but this dear little man she had known for such a short time seemed to have had a massive emotional impact. Her next thoughts were to contact the next of kin so she opened the bag looking for some kind of contact details when from out of the gloom of the bag rose a stunning spectacle. A well dressed, bowler hat-wearing creature sporting a smart bushy moustache. The creature, upon seeing the doctor, exclaimed ‘Monsieur!’ and slithered out of the bag and onto the doctor’s chest. ‘Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!’ it cried out. The volunteer rose and left the room sensing that the strange creature needed time alone. When she returned the creature was gone and the bag firmly closed. Agatha, for that was our volunteer’s name, honoured Monsieur Popeau’s last wishes and took the bag home. Every day she would place the bag in her study near the window overlooking the sea and open it. At first nothing happened, then slowly over time the beloved Watson would emerge and stare out to sea for hours on end. Occasionally it would come and sit on the desk next to Agatha as she wrote, for Agatha was also an author. In 1920 The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie, a book featuring Hercule Poirot was published, it was a beautifully written book full of red herrings and surprise plot twists all supplied by the Watson Wriggler who revealed to Agatha that it knew an awful lot about an awful lot of things.
But that’s another story…
CASE 69/C
The Rampant Jekylled Whatabanker – London, 1886 One morning in 1886 a banker working at the Bank of England happened to notice an old safety deposit box had been left open. Curious as to its contents he peered in and found a strange bottle of liquid looking rather similar to a fine brandy. Knowing that any theft would be swiftly dealt with he shut the box until he heard the lock engage but not before he had briefly removed the bottle and taken a quick sip. It was not brandy. Over the course of the day the banker started to develop a craving for sweets, he demolished a penny’s worth of mint bull’s eyes without batting an eyelid and followed it with 2lb of boiled candy but still the craving continued. By the afternoon small purple hairs had started to sprout on the backs of his hands. His clothes felt tight and he started to panic, what had been in that strange bottle? Then the convulsions started, they were violent enough to draw gasps from his colleagues as he writhed around eventually slipped groaning to the floor dragging the contents of his desk with him. By now his fellow bankers had gathered in a corner afraid to peer over his desk from where the sound of ripping fabric could be heard. Suddenly there was an almighty roar of the word ‘hungry!’ as the desk was hurled across the room and up leapt an eight foot purple furred, muscle rippling, giant of a beast. It pounded over to the bank’s main safe and ripped open its three feet steel door; grabbing several bags of money it thudded away down Threadneedle Street in the direction of the nearest sweet shop. As the monster cleared out each sweet shop and wrought destruction it grew larger and larger as it shovelled handfuls of boiled sweets into its mouth. London cowered under the power of the beast - a simple banker was going to destroy the capital and there was nothing anybody could do about it. As it reached Bridge Street it turned and clambered up Big Ben jeering at the angry crowds gathered below whilst candy and banknotes rained down as it shook a massive fist. It was too late, London’s iconic landmark was going to fall. The clock struck twelve like a last cry for help. Startled, the beast roared with anger and tried to stop the noise. As it reached to rip open the top of the tower it lost its grip and for a few seconds looked as if it was going to crash down on the Palace of Westminster. It fell heavily on Bridge Street and lay unconscious from the fall. From out of the gathered crowds stepped a mysterious stranger carrying a Gladstone bag. Tall, well dressed with a small moustache and wild eyes, the stranger reached into his bag and pulled out a syringe. Quickly injecting the beast he disappeared back into the crowds. Minutes later the creature started to writhe around, moaning and groaning as it started to shrink back to the humble frame of the errant banker. All this is recorded faithfully in the London City records for the year of 1886. Newgate prison records reveal that the banker was jailed but was freed unconditionally after the owner of the safety deposit box made a large donation to the government. For the stranger in the crowds and the owner of the safety deposit box was one and the same person, Robert Louis Stevenson. The safety deposit box had contained a bottle of liquid concocted by Robert during one of his many bouts of ill health, Robert quickly noted that it had mind and body altering properties and used it to help when writing. In the safety deposit box the solution had steadily fermented becoming more and more dangerously potent each day. We have passed this information on to the Bank of England who has secured box 127 for reasons of public safety after information we gained from noting the positions of the hands on Big Ben. We don’t want to risk a rampant set of bankers ruining it all again.
CASE K2Q/3
Zanbar - Austria, 1770 The origins of this painting have been most troublesome to verify as it has been added to fifteen times in its long history and now resembles an entirely different painting indeed. The original underpainting shows Zanbar sat at a table with a chessboard; his right hand is holding a white knight and the left holds a long unknown object. In the background is what looks like a highly decorated palace all of which reminds me of a sensation of the 18th century -The Turk. A fabled chess playing automaton The Turk was first presented to a stunned audience at Schönbrunn Palace, Austria, where it beat opponent after opponent. Early accounts of The Turk describe a life-sized model of human head and torso with black beard and the dress of an oriental sorcerer. Its left arm held a long Turkish smoking pipe whilst its right arm lay on the top of a large cabinet nearly four feet long containing three doors, an opening and a drawer in which the chess set was stored. Opponents approached The Turk and proceeded to play chess; notably The Turk always played white and always moved first. The Turk would nod twice if an opponent’s Queen was in check and three times if the King was in check. If an illegal move was played The Turk would shake its head and move the piece back. Such was the novelty of The Turk that in 1781 it was in Vienna and ready to start its European tour in 1783. A marvel for an automaton in the eighteenth century or so it seemed. Rumours abounded that The Turk was actually an automaton controlled by a human secreted inside the machine through trickery but this was never proved. This painting bears such a striking resemblance that we believe that Zanbar and The Turk were one and the same. Zanbar was not an automaton though; a small entry in the diaries of Charles Burroughs has a passing mention of this creature on his visit to Zimsalabim in 1860. ‘…and witnessed the marvel of mystical Zanbar, a street sorcerer who sat crossed legged in the middle of a fine carpet on which was situated a chessboard laid out ready to play. Miraculously the carpet floated a foot off the ground and I could detect no trickery with the situation.’ Zanbar was real and in 1906 it seemed that Zanbar had a new trick up his sleeve when he appeared in Virginia City, Montana, contained this time in a special wooden booth with the ability to tell fortunes, something the gold rush clientele would clamber over for. Various sightings of Zanbar feature throughout the next sixty years with many reporting Zanbar and his travelling fortune telling booth as Zendor, Zandar and even Zoltar. Some go as far as to attribute Zanbar with the ability to return us to our childhood but that may be stretching the truth a little. It does however explain the addition of the booth though in the painting that exists today. Zanbar then dropped out of history, records show that he ended up a shopkeeper with premises just off Festive Road. According to all accounts he still wore his fez as he served customers and kept the old mystical booth inside the shop using it as a changing room; the store closed for business in 1972. There are fourteen objects scattered around the base of Zanbar in the painting which remain a mystery. Objects identified so far include a Sheriff’s badge, a Jolly Roger, a medal, wooden spoon and even a stopper from a genie’s bottle, mementoes from adventures perhaps?
CASE 827/C
Mysterious Count Carpathian Von Porl - Whitby, 1890 Only one written account can be found to verify the night of the 27th of September, 1890 when a stranger walked into the Duke of York public house situated at the base of the 199 steps of Whitby Abbey, an event so unusual that the account was written by a visiting tourist. ‘From out of the wicked storm strode in a man clad in black and without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He was carrying a large silver lantern which cast arched shadows around the room. Strangely our unexpected guest seemed to absorb the gloomy light and I could discern no shadow. I noticed that his hands locked around the handle of the lantern were coarse, broad with squat fingers and nails cut to a sharp point resembling the claws of a savage beast, suitably matching the thin cruel looking, peculiarly sharp white teeth protruding over his lip. All this was rather extraordinary to witness and left me with a great feeling of unease for the rest of the night that I could not shake. ‘The stranger sat down and would answer no questions but rather he would fix people with a stare using his distinctive amber eyes, his black cape wrapped around him tight even though he was getting the full heat of the fire.’ The Duke of York recorded a visitor that night. Unfortunately no name is given but a room was occupied only to be found deserted the next morning with both windows flung wide open. Moors surround Whitby and the terrible storm the night before with its turbulent sea made travel impossible so a search was mounted to discover the whereabouts of the stranger. He was never found. The first body was found in Arguments Yard, not far from the Duke of York, further bodies were found in Chapel Yard and Linskill Square with the final body discovered in a sealed room at Bagdale Hall, all had been drained of blood leaving a murderous trail across Whitby and out onto the moors. Our research into this painting would have faltered would it not have been for the tourist’s description of that night that we uncovered, for the description was penned by no other than Bram Stoker, author of Dracula, 1897, and it is assumed that this brief description in his own diaries was the trigger for his famous novel. Now the twist: in 1898 Victorian England was buzzing to the new sensation of Count Carpathian Von Porl, a remarkable magician who could perform outstanding tricks and even change shape at will. Theatres throughout the land sought to book the great performer as his fame grew. Bram Stoker who by that time was working as the Director of London’s Lyceum Theatre managed to book the Count’s unique act. Bram sat in the audience to enjoy the spectacle, the Count strode onto the stage to rapturous applause dressed in black and without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. A terrible unease gripped Bram as the realisation sank in; pinned by those amber eyes he remained transfixed with fear until the end of the show, apparently the only one gripped by terror in the airy theatre. As the curtains fell Bram rushed from his seat and onto the stage, the Count was gone but he knew what he would find in the dressing room. Witness statements vary, but the only thing we can be sure of is that the bodies were completely drained of blood. We are now investigating the peculiar code hidden in this piece; we believe it’s to do with magic and is contained within the strange numbering system used in the playing cards, it may even reveal what happened to the Count.
CASE WWR/D
The Flamboyant Wriggling Wonky Wonder – London, 1839
If you knew your way around London in 1839 then you would no doubt know about the shop of Catpuss & Co on Scrumdidly Street. Catpuss & Co was world famous for its fantastical range of sweets, sweets that could be found nowhere else in the world. Peering through the window you would have found lemon fizz fish that swim around your mouth, goofball gum that made you bark like a dog and the classic Scrumdidly Surprise, a pink striped candy bar filled with real ice cream and fresh strawberries. Then, one day in 1845, a new candy appeared in the window only it wasn’t candy, it was chocolate but like no other chocolate. Shaped like a small pyramid and covered in gold it was called The Pharaoh’s Secret and contained inside its scrumptious layers salted peanuts and butterscotch with a deliciously gooey centre of toffee and the surprise of finding little mini treasures made from white and milk chocolate inside. It had grown men banging on the door every morning; servants were sent with strict orders to buy as many as possible, women swooned from just one taste, it really was the stuff of legends. The fame of the little shop on Scrumdidly Street grew and grew, how did they make such paradisiacal things? Who was behind such genius? Even the shop assistants at Catpuss & Co didn’t know. Every day when they arrived the shop was magically restocked and everything was as neat and tidy as it was the day before and the day before that. Newspapers ran articles speculating, gossip was passed on street corners, rumours abounded but still the secret remained until one day London awoke to a city full of fancy. The streets were paved with chocolate; candy decorated every doorstep and boiled sweets were found in every corner. Laughter filled the streets, smiles filled people’s faces, children ran through the streets playing with liquorish hoops, ladies nibbled delicately on dappled candy canes whilst gentlemen sampled boxes of fine whisky flavoured chocolate cigars. If you were standing on Scrumdidly Street that morning you would have seen the biggest smile you had ever seen. For you would have been the only witness to the maker of all this joy, The Flamboyant Wriggling Wonky Wonder, a creature that had one goal, to spread happiness in the only way it knew how to. The very next day the little shop on Scrumdidly Street was empty, not one piece of candy or scrap of chocolate remained. All that was left was a small note pinned to the door. It simply said ‘Be happy’ and was signed with a curly ‘W’. We don’t really know who painted this Lost Impossimal as Charles Burroughs was in the Jiangnan province, China, tracking the High Tea Hee-Haw during this period so could not possibly have witnessed the scene but we do know the impact it had on history. In the 1850’s memories of the day candy, chocolate and happiness filled the streets prompted Parliament to reduce the high import tax on cocoa to give a lift to its citizens. One such beneficiary of the change were the Cadbury brothers of Birmingham who by 1854 had secured a Royal Warrant as manufacturers to the Queen such was their skill. By the 1930’s Cadbury was one of the world’s biggest chocolate manufacturers and often sent out boxes of new chocolates to be tested by the pupils of Repton School in Derbyshire. One pupil never forgot these boxes of delight and often dreamt of inventing a chocolate bar that would win the praise of Mr. Cadbury, that pupil was none other than Roald Dahl. If you look in the window of the shop, to the left you will find a chalkboard, on the board is the letter ‘W’, so far we have found several others hidden in the painting but there could be many more.
Dr Joseph Bell Perplex Research, Kings Road, Edinburgh EH16 4SD
Head Curator Edward Trumpington National Museum Of Antiquities, Cromwell Row, London SW7 5BD
4th July 2013
RE: Charles Burroughs Lost Impossimals
Dear Edward,
Thank you for the loan of the Charles Burroughs diaries and field notes, they went some way to explain the meaning of some of the paintings and we used this as a starting point but like their counterparts they also appear on further examination to be some form of collaboration. Pages have been meticulously added to the diary and field notes over time, the first being in 1829 and the last 1983, more than a hundred and fifty years apart but all using the same ink composition and handwriting, again you get the feeling they ’ve been handed down through the years hidden from prying eyes. Unfortunately whilst working on the field notes I accidentally knocked over a glass of water and nearly ruined the notes for the Slurping Sipping Slosher, I saved it from severe damage by drying it out gently. Curiously as it dried I noticed strange patterns occurring across the paper and it gradually dawned on me that there was a code written in citric acid across the notes, exposure to heat had been the trigger. The code was a set of numbers 02812141-90812021-57819001. It was a few weeks later as I sat staring at them that I had a breakthrough, they were dates, or to be more precise dates written in reverse, 02812141 became 14121820 which in the correct format is 14/12/1820 the exact birth date of Charles Burroughs! I quickly checked the others; they were birth dates too, 12/02/1809 and 10/09/1875 of Charles Darwin and Edgar Rice Burroughs. Our intrepid explorer Charles Burroughs was an invention, or was he? Thankfully Charles Burroughs ’s diary contains a reference to his birthplace in Shrewsbury, Shropshire, so it was only a matter of looking up the parish records to confirm his existence. The register is not yet online so yesterday I made the long journey to visit St Chad’s Church in Shrewsbury where the register was made available for me to search. Working from the birth date I went through month after month trying to locate a baptism date to no avail; as I flipped over the last page my blood froze. Written on the back page was a message in the same handwriting as the diaries and field notes, it simply said ‘Let the games begin’. It’s impossible that Charles is still alive, we need to do something, Edward, this whole business is starting to unnerve me; I’m constantly looking over my shoulder and questioning everything around me. The Lost Impossimals contain some kind of secret, a dangerous secret that has been hidden for hundreds of years, we are fools to try and unlock its mysteries. It’s been made worse by two new discoveries this morning, firstly all the paintings are connected like an intricate jigsaw and secondly hidden in every painting is I was puzzled, what did they mean and why hide them?
BLOODLINES IT BEGINS.
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