0069 | The Invisible Man ~ H.G.Wells


This is what happens when science goes to your head. At least that’s what I think Wells was on about.

The invisible man was once like you and me. That’s right, completely corrupt deep deep down. The only difference between him and us is that he revels in it… eventually.

This is the typical (although probably not at the time) story of the young adventurous scientist experimenting on himself and having it go badly wrong. He struggles to live with the catastrophic results of his experimentation but, inevitably, slowly descends via a spiral of anger and bitterness into full blown murderous anarchy.

If there’s perhaps one moral from this story, it’s a reassuring one in the age of human cloning: too much science is bad for you.

There, now you know.

I’ll tell you something else that’s bad for you too: half-bit American actors doing attempted British accents. Quite why Mr. Brick from Trantor Media decided to tell the story in an affected British accent was beyond me. I don’t read Kerouac with a midwest drawl now, do I? Honestly, leave the Cockney to the Cockneys people please.

The stranger came early in February, one wintry day through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the Down walking from Bramblehurst railway station and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand.

And none other will know of them until he dies.

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