Poor Augustus. He looks very apologetic and slightly alarmed. He holds himself entirely responsible for the furious beeping and light-flashing, not to mention the broken crockery and so forth, but it really isn’t entirely his fault.
You see, when one is a serial collector of all manner of unconsidered trifles, as Shakespeare would have it, there comes a time when a major clear-out must occur. This was just such a time.
I used vast quantities of broken jewellery, charms and other pleasingly-shaped objects to create some of our Wild and Wonky seasonal tree decorations. However there is a limit to what can be suspended from a Christmas tree.
I felt that the football boot studs, the broken plastic wind instruments, the polystyrene packaging, the various bottle caps and the two broken toy motorcycles would be a step too far, so I did what I usually do at such times. I handed them over to the highly enterprising Augustus Robottom and suggested he make some more of his very popular junk robots.
True to form, Gus produced some little wonders. There was a small butler bot holding a goblet of wine, a robot maid with teapot and cup, several messengers, guard bots and a very cute little handyman with screwdriver, drill and assorted useful bits and bobs.
Then the trouble started.
Gus began to transform the motorbikes.
They had been in a sorry state when I first found them in the 50p box of a local charity shop, but once Augustus had worked his magic and added in some rather unlikely components, he produced a couple of quite extraordinary biker bots.
The paintwork was transformed with glittery nail varnish and metallic wax. Huge exaust pipes were fashioned from a plastic trumpet and saxophone. An action figure’s mask became a grille on the front of one. A plastic drinking straw became a huge steam funnel on the other. The little robot drivers were fixed into place – one leaning forward eagerly, the other a rather laid-back easy rider.
Gus pronounced himself pleased with the result.
Then the trouble started.
The smaller robots caught sight of Robot G on his gleaming copper and gold motorbike. Pandemonium broke out.
Remember R2-D2 at its most animated and loud? Multiply that by eight and add in the smashing of household items and you’ll have some idea of the hubub caused by the consternation of the jealous little robots.
I’m not sure what that butler was offering me in his jewelled goblet, but it looked rather more like a poisoned chalice than a glass of wine. Beaded arms and fists were raised and each mouth spewed unbridled fury. They encircled poor Augustus, each demanding a shiny set of wheels for themselves. Alas, I had to admit I’d only been able to aquire two bikes.
We both felt it best they didn’t meet Robot I, the second biker. Fortunately, he was quickly snapped up by a collector in the United States, so their paths will not need to cross.
“Perhaps,” I suggested later, “it would be better to make your next batch of robots without emotion chips.”
Sadly, Augustus agreed.
The remaining robots will be on sale at the Folk Art Market in the Assembly Rooms, Glastonbury, Somerset on Saturday 16th November 2019. Any who are left will move to one of our Somerset outlets – Magpie Vintage in Midsomer Norton or Street Emporium. Interested customers who live further afield can contact us via the form on the home page of this website.
Our latest sales venture is hiring a glass cabinet in a beautiful craft emporium in the Somerset town of Street.
The purveyors of our products were the most splendidly attired persons I had ever encountered. Even Mrs S, who is quite used to these affairs, was impressed and kept taking photographs of them, a few of which I will reproduce here.
I confess I was quite delighted when a charming lady and gentleman agreed to purchase my latest time machine. I often wonder where my customers will end up when they head off on their temporal journeys.
So, with suitcases and packing boxes still unopened, I hunted through my 12th scale furniture stash and – I could hardly believe my luck – found an identical sized desk. It was brown, rather than black and, unlike its predecessor, it still had some drawers. Over the following days I studied the photos and worked to reproduce the dowsing pendulum, the tiny pack of cards, the candle, dream divination book, aged scrolls, tray of crystals and fortune telling boards.
It was nearing completion, when another message from the customer arrived. “It’s here!” she said. “I haven’t even opened it yet, but it was delivered today!”
Finally my furnace was burning away merrily and Inferna the Twisted Firestarter was safely ensconced in her cage (with a large DO NOT FEED sign in case anyone felt tempted to give in to her endless wheedling and eyelash fluttering).
I must confess that much to my chagrin, I am reduced to relying on the kind lady’s charity, since my own – not inconsiderable – fortune remains locked in my own time. Even if I had managed to bring some with me on my time-travelling adventure, it would doubtless have suffered the same fate as myself and been reduced to one twelfth of its natural size, rendering it quite useless in my present surroundings. The dear lady is quite phlegmatic about the expenses, however. She insists that the total cost of building my engine room has been less than five pounds. That seems quite a large sum to me, but she insists it is a paltry amount in her age.
I began work at once. Within a few hours my engine was chugging merrily and the machinery was in perfect working order.
I recall that last time I penned an episode of my adventures as a one-twelfth scale explorer, inadvertently lodged in the year 2017, my normal sized assistant and myself were pondering a method of combustion for the steam engine we were building, to allow me to power up my Machine and escape to my own dimension – in every sense of that word.
“What manner of creature is it?” I enquired.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 