Description

A gargantuan iceberg drifts inexorably, its icy hull crushing ironclads that dare approach. Inside its cavernous centre a bewildered philosopher in nankeen breeches scribbles cryptic notes, surrounded by a maze of tubes, knobs and a hiss of boiling cauldrons. He summons a tall, goat‑bearded colonel who slides into a chair as if nothing extraordinary were happening. The scene is set for a ridiculous enterprise, half scientific, half theatrical, as the philosopher declares, “Everything is ready.”

Soon the philosopher’s odd troupe assembles: Colonel Gobang, the ever‑cunning “stupid courage” of Lord John Bullup, and the flamboyant French doctor Reversi, each chiming in with nonsensical queries about plum‑pudding cakes and perpetual frost. Their mission? To voyage to the Sun inside the very iceberg, a plan sustained by a stock of matinees, five‑act tragedies, and an absurd promise of constant cold. The banter crackles with Victorian absurdity, hinting at a wild adventure that will test the limits of imagination long before any climax is reached.

Details