The Brentford Trilogy. Robert Rankin. Onmibus

The Brentford Trilogy. Robert Rankin. Onmibus

The first book in the now legendary Brentford trilogy.
The Antipope.
'Outside the sun shines. Buses rumble towards Ealing Broadway and I'm expected to do battle with the powers of darkness. It all seems a little unfair...' You could say it all started with the red-eyed tramp with the slimy fingers who put the wind up Neville, the part-time barman, something rotten. Or when Archroy's wife swapped his trusty Morris Minor for five magic beans while he was out at the rubber factory. On the other hand, you could say it all started a lot earlier. Like 450 years ago, when Borgias walked the earth. Pooley and Omally, stars of the Brentford Laboiur Exchange and the Flying Swan, want nothing to do with it, especially if there's a Yankee and a pint of Large in the offing. Pope Alexander VI, last of the Borgias, has other ideas...

The Brentford Triangle.
Omally groaned. "It is the end of mankind as we know it. I should never have got up so early today" and all over Brentford electrical appliances were beginning to fail...' Could it be that Pooley and Omally, whilst engaged on a round of allotment golf, mistook laser-operated gravitational landing beams for the malignant work of Brentford Council? Does the Captain Laser Alien Attack machine in the bar of the Swan possess more sinister force than its magnetic appeal for youths with green hair? Is Brentford the first base in an alien onslaught on planet Earth?

East of Ealing.
Ahead, where once had been only bombsite land, the Lateinos and Romiith building rose above Brentford. Within its cruel and jagged shadow, magnolias wilted in their window boxes and synthetic Gold Top became doorstep cheese...' Something sinister is happening east of Ealing. The prophecies of The Book of Revelation are being fulfilled. Lateinos & Romiith, a vast financial network, is changing all the rules with a plan to bar-code every living punter and dispense with old-fashioned money. A diabolical scheme, which would not only end civilisation as we know it, but seriously interfere with drinking habits at the Flying Swan. Can Armageddon, Apocalypse and other inconveniences of the modern age be stopped by the humble likes of Pooley and Omally, even with the help of Professor Slocombe and the time-warped Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street...?