The Inventor by Adam Acidophilus

There was once an eccentric inventor who invented many things – and spent his days in a shed, inventing. But though he was a clever man – and his inventions were certainly unusual – he enjoyed little success, and was subjected to ridicule.

"We don't need electricity," they would sneer. "We've got gas."

And so he endured the ignorance of the public, the indifference of the manufacturing industry, the mockery of the press and the sheer stupidity of his wife.

"Why don't you invent something nice that makes everybody happy," she would suggest.

"A brilliant idea my love," he would murmur – for she was a stunner.

This inventor was also not bad at maths, and he calculated one day that he was wasting his fucking time. So he invented a balloon and made away with his inventions, seeking a new world, with forward-looking people.

"Oh look, the inventor is getting away," one or two people remarked.

"That'll never fly," said another, as the balloon passed over.

The inventor soon left land behind and headed across the ocean; but the next morning he awoke to find that he was losing altitude.

"Darn it," he thought, "if I am to make it to safety I shall have to lighten the load – which of my many possessions shall I cast over the side?"

After a little thought, the inventor decided to dispose of all luxuries – his bed, his duvet, his alarm clock, the cast iron stove, the water tank, the hot water tank and his precious collection of bricks

"Pity," he thought, as the balloon rose high above the water. "But never mind. At least my most ingenious invention remains intact."

Alas, on the morrow he did not find a new world, but found himself again descending.

"Oh bugger," he thought. "I shall have to get rid of an invention!"

Now it so happened that he had invented a particularly heavy invention which was of inestimable value to agriculture. It could plough, plant, reap and bale, mill, dry, smoke or roast. And although it was one of his favourites, it was rather heavy.

The inventor threw it out; the balloon began to rise. "Pity," he remarked. "But at least my most ingenious invention remains intact."

Unfortunately, the next day, he found himself still closer to the waves. "Shit!" he cursed. "I shall have to chuck away another invention!"

This was a type of camera, that could take many kinds of picture: colour, three-dimensional or moving. And it could also photograph sound, and transmit it to other lands, where it could be received by other such devices, which didn't exist yet.

"Surplus to requirements," he sighed, pushing it over. "Thank God my most ingenious invention remains intact!"

The next day he disposed of his steam-powered orchestra, the day after that his clockwork horse, the day after that his prefabricated village.

"I had always hoped that my perpetual engine would enjoy a less ignominious fate," he sighed, shoving it out. "But at least my most ingenious invention remains intact."

His wife had been curiously silent throughout the journey, but on the eighth day he found that the balloon was almost empty. There was still no land in sight, and the sea lay inches below.

"Sorry m'dear," he said – chucking her cats in after her.

Fortunately for the inventor, this was as far as he needed to go – for land was in sight on the western horizon. He pulled off his shoes and the rest of his clothes, and even chucked his spectacles away, and the balloon touched down on the foreshore of an unknown land.

And the native people of the unknown land appeared from the nearest jungle – naked, with bones through their noses. And they gathered around the inventor and the wreckage of his balloon.

"Thank goodness," he sighed, "that I have been able to retain my most ingenious invention."

"Gentlemen," he began, "may I interest you in a snowplough?"