#Mysteries of Holborn: Holographic Holborn


Unconvincing logo of 4D printer…

It may be a new year, but its the same old nonsense here at Mysteries of Holborn.  Despite protestations by those blighters who own The Bermuda Triangle™, their attempted injunctions, super-injunctions and, frankly, not-so-super injunctions have, once more, failed to outlaw The Holborn Dodecahedron.  And so, in its twelve-sided manner, it continues to throw out random anomalies, oddities and all kind of weird stuff in the vicinity of Millman Street Community Centre.

The latest mystery manifested itself earlier today:  this reporter – spoilt rotten by an oh-so-expensive selection of festive gifts – received among his undeserved presents a brand, sparkling new 4D Printer in his Xmas stocking.  Yes, 4D.  3D printers are so 2016, but with 4D you of course get more, and what with time being the fourth dimension (according to Einstein’s contemporary and fellow egghead Hermann Minkowsk), our horrendous hack was initially discombobulated to discover that “the infernal contraption” (when it apparently didn’t work) or “wondrous harbinger of a hi-tech future” (when it did) had something jammed in its inner workings.

Braving the fearsome innards of the 4D printer with the gnawed end of a 2B pencil, the hapless simpleton eventually discovered the cause of said jam.  Then it took mere hours for realisation to dawn on the befuddled penny-a-liner: what was stuck inside was some of the aforementioned fourth dimension, to whit time.  To be specific, it was clogged up with a spare copy of 1975 that had somehow been caught up in the mechanism.

“Well,” he thought (albeit in quotation marks), “This is a rum do and no mistake.”

For there it was: 1975 in all of its purple-loon pants wearing, shaggily-sideburned, sweaty, medallion-chested, acrylic-shirted, 6p-for-a-pint-of-milk glory.  And before our startled hack’s eyes zipped a selection of highlights of that year, almost as if a lazy journo had looked up a list of events from 1975…

Our inky-fingered zero learnt that 1975 had been a year in the mid-1970s.  And that, among other events during that year, Led Zeppelin and Blue Oyster Cult both released albums (on vinyl, mind); Monty Python’s Holy Grail film was released to little or no controversy (ahem); America finally quit Vietnam, vowing never again to embark on foolhardy foreign policy (ahem).  There was also a referendum in the UK (something about Europe – imagine such a thing nowadays?); ITV4 endless-repeat favourite Jaws was showing, first run, at the cinema; NASA launched its Viking 1 probe to Mars;  Manson Family chum Lynette “Squeaky” Fromm tried and failed to assassinate US President Gerald Ford (as did copycat Sara Jane Moore a few weeks later); some British woman called Margaret Thatcher became leader of the Tories (note to self: look up whatever became of her); Fawlty Towers was first broadcast on BBC2; the Sex Discrimination Act and Equal Pay Acts came into force, and thus the disgraceful incongruity of women being paid less for doing the same job as a bloke was ended forever in Britain (ahem); one of Ant and Dec was born (even then, no one knew which one was which); James Robertson Justice, idolised by generations of would-be curmudgeons who can never aspire to his level of grumpiness, died; and a shy, retiring football manager by the name of Brian Clough took over at second-flight strugglers Nottingham Forest, prompting one die hard fan to be committed to an asylum for the insane after predicting that, before 1980 was out, Forest would have won the European Cup.  Twice.  Oh, and some American bloke called Bill Gates was forming a business partnership in the hope of flogging consumers something called a ‘personal computer’…


A typically sanguine James Robertson Justice…


Unknown politician of 1975…

Attempts to interact  with the 1975 folk were not as groovy as one might imagine.  Several were not best pleased to learn that they were mere “copies” of their 1975 selves, brought forward to 2017 in some sort of ill-defined, trashy sci-fi way.  James Robertson Justice, for one, gave your HCA hack a thoroughly deserved berating, dismissing him as a “Blithering idiot!”.  This Thatcher woman also proved something of a bossy-boots, and Brian Clough constantly addressed him (and indeed everyone else, regardless of age or gender) as “Young Man!”, and insisted that, after discussing the situation every which way for 20 minutes, he had been right all along.  Dismayed at such treatment, our cowardly hack thought it politic to prevent further 1975 interaction with the present day, and decided simply to unplug the 4D printer, take it back to the shop and claim a refund due to a supposed glitch that prevented it from working properly…

As so often with Mysteries of Holborn, our witless hack conveniently forgot to take proper notes or indeed any photos to offer any kind of proof, leading (once again) to suggestions that this latest supposed ‘mystery’ is as big a load of old cobblers as all the previous ones.

As ever, it is ultimately up to the reader to decide: is the above article proof-if-proof-be-proof-ful of another Holborn Dodecahedron mystery, or (as detractors insist) complete rubbish to fill up an otherwise threadbare article?

Next Time: The Lost Films of Holborn

Last Time: Temporal Anomalies

Nonsense by Notes Smudger

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