Dalek of the Baskervilles

This is the latest installment in the Dalek Game and is for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles.

I mentioned several Daleks ago that until I left for boarding school in year 11, my mother read out loud to us every night. When she was away, however, the duty fell to my father, and his standard text was Sherlock Holmes. He read in a laid-back fashion (which caused my mother to take over in the first place) and now, although I love Holmes, I don’t read the stories as tense adventures, but as rather stately, considered, slightly military recountings (which really does suit them better).

The exception is The Hound of the Baskervilles, which terrified me thrillingly. It was the only book I ever read in bed under the covers with a torch. It lent a delicious horror to waking up in the night – or worse, waking up in the grey morning when camping – and hearing dingoes howling around the hills. Even painting one of our dogs up with luminous paint, though fun, didn’t remove the enchantment of that terrified run through the darkness – something which translated beautifully to our own dark scrub and howling nights.

And in other news, friends on Twitter have been committing atrocities on famous quotes by replacing important words with “duck”. I threatened to draw one if they didn’t stop, so here are Dale Arden, Flash Gordon and some very important waterfowl (pen and ink with coloured inks):

Flash, I love you...

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