Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 46 — page 85: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A new twist on the time-travel gags Outside—Looking in by RON ELTON HE Doctor had a daugh- ter, so I’ve got pretty rich. Or rather I haven’t, but the chap who... well, I suppose it is me. I said he hada daughter— actually he’s still got her, but as far as I’m concerned he might just as well be a bachelor. Or an Eskimo. I wish he was an Eskimo, then I shouldn’t be where lam now. Neither should I be rich. Or rather the chap who Look, this is getting us nowhere—I’ll start at the beginning. We'll start with the Staff Dance. The Staff being Per- manent Plastics, Ltd.—‘‘We make *em—try and break °em’’—where I am (was) a warehouseman. P.P. pride themselves on their modern outlook on Capital and Labour, the let’s- all - be - workmates - together sort of thing, and, provided you don’t call the Managing Director Charley, to his face, you get on all right. So that when I had a dance. with Browneyes, sat the next 84 one out with her on the veranda, and after we’d come up from the clinch for breath, I asked her name, and she said ““Beryl Jameson,” I didn’t drop dead from shock. Even though I knew her old man was top-dog in the Research Labs. I took her home after the dance, said “good-night”’ in the approved fashion, and caught an all-night “bus to Shepherds Bush, with one of thosewho-is-this-bloke-called- Boyer feelings. Naturally I had dated Browneyes, and we did a West End show, with a feed in Lyons’ to follow. And that’s how the great romance started. Of course, on seven quid a week, you can’t do the West End every night, but we made out all right, with the local gaff, and down by the river at Hammersmith. Oh yes, we reached the every-night stage, and pretty soon she said to me: “‘Would you like to meet Daddy?” “IT do,” I told her. “‘Every day.” comiclooks.corn