Professor Howe and the Poseidon Problem

Professor Howe and the Poseidon Problem

Professor Howe and the Poseidon Problem

Synopsis

Professor Howe’s life had been rather hectic of late, takingon the most-dastardly villains, clingy companions and continuity errors, all intent on besmirching her good name. In time honoured fashion, she had triumphed against insurmountable odds, snatched mediocrity from the jaws of defeat and fluked seven out of ten on her latest Open University assignment. After all that heroism, many cups of tea and playing Snake on her phone for thehundred-and-third time, there was only one thing for it, Professor Howe was going to take a holiday.

The Professor going on holiday was one of the biggest redflags that ever got waved in the universe. Inevitably even the shortest of breaks would result in carnage, more carnage and then extremely unpleasant death. Unfortunately for the universe it wasn’t the Professor’s death in question, but some unfortunate innocent who just happened to get in the way of the latest massacre. The last time the Professor had been on vacation, she had inadvertently managed to start a galactic war after running down three people with a vegetable laden wheelbarrow!

Needless to say, many planets were not keen to have her as a tourist. Seventy-three planets in the Orion Cluster alone had banned the Professor from any kind of recreational visit and the Scarlet Galaxy had refused to give her a visa in perpetuity. Professor Howe’s reputation for holiday hell had travelled so far and wide that Parks Central of Ceti-Alpha VI used the slogan, ‘Professor Howe doesn’t holiday here, so you can’ to phenomenal effect in the 31st century. Unfortunately, the planet became so popular that the actual holiday experience was more like playing sardines on a beach with a couple of million other people. Naturally this wasn’t altogether pleasant and resulted in an economic crash that was worse than a visit from the hapless Professor.

Despite the many bans which hung over her head and her eagerness for travel, two weeks in Torremolinos would not do, especially in her current casting. This Professor Howe had an altogether more sophisticated palette, along with an ever-expanding wardrobe of catsuits, thigh-high boots and long coats, which all demanded suitably chic surroundings. She enjoyed the finer things in life, and CBB budgetary pressures notwithstanding, she usually got them.

She sat there in the Flying Saucer console room – which was actually the only room – thumbing through various glossy brochures, looking for inspiration. The room itself had recently been refurbished. The dodgy switches and black and white television set over the door had been banished and now it wasa rather handsome beast. The control room might have been small and bijou, but it was designed within an inch of its life and that made it look even more ravishing in glorious high definition.

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