Ego Googling

I spent some time googling for my Alias this morning. Besides things that I habe posted I also came across 3 odd stories.

Here is one from a comment in supposedly from Vice-Admiral Sir Lamington "Fruity" Stokes-Sodbury, KCVO, DSC* (Ret) that suggest that Baron von Feldspar is some sort of Kurtz like figure.

Solomon, you say?

Puts me mind, Olly old stick, of a tour of duty to the German Solomon Islands in the old days before the lights went out.

It couldn’t have been much after Kaiser Bill had sent out his Pacific Squadron to the take possession of the place from a doubtless rather bemused native populace. Called it “New Pomerania” or some such blithering nonsense. Just after the Australians had sailed into Papua I think. So there we all were invited to celebrate the Kaiser’s birthday in Rubaul.

Ye Gods what a floor-show that was! Eagle standards! Acres of Prussian grey and cavalry boots all in the steamy tropics of the government station. Fritzes and Rudies dropping like flies or sinking into the soft clay of the makeshift parade ground. Fuzzy-wuzzies peering from the undergrowth in delight and wonderment. They didn’t mind a bit, of course. Truth to tell, I think they were rather impressed in their own endearing way. The colour of thing I expect. Colour and movement quite often stuns your slack-jawed islander folk.

That, and the sight of Herr Leutnant Baron von Feldspar. How could I forget him. Great,,strapping golden-haired, aristocratic Hun of blighter - straight from ruddy Valhalla. Handsome devil, too, I’m not afraid to say, but I fear young Feldspar was a bit of a deviant in ways romantic.

Well the fuzzy-wuzzies had never seen the like. Soon a band of the younger savages took to laying little offerings at his feet whenever he took the parade. Coconuts and shark’s teeth and the like, which Feldspar would accept graciously and then he’d visit them in their primaeval huts on the Sepic and they’d bring more, and of course, he started to give them trinkets in return - like cigar-cutters and spirit measures and cotton-reels. These items they would disport on they persons rather like love tokens - on their heads at first and, with increasing frequency, around their private parts.

Great big shiny smiles on the fellows whenever they arrived to take Baron Feldy away with them. And Feldspar too became rather uncommonly pleased with himself. Then one day, he just never came back. They say he ended up ruling them all - a breakaway tribe of young savages - who had no women folk, no food stores, no villages but lived on a form of schnapps distilled from mountain berries and raided for their provisions always very successfully because they carried spears tipped with silver cigar-cutters and wore nothing but bloody great bismarck-boots which scared the daylights out of the ordinary sort.

So there you are, Olly old chap, the most vicious nancies ever - a most fearsome professionally-trained band of German native spear-stickers. The New Pomeranian Lancers, the used to call them. None of ‘em left now I fear. But their old caves are still there up in the highlands of the Sepic valley.

And they say they’re just gorgeous.

Here is a Baron von Feldspar in the Flintstone world.

I have already noted here the future history of Baron von Feldspar and the Bowman Salvage & Trading corporation in a previous post. However I know the person who wrote the future bio but not the ones who wrote Feldspar as some 19th century imperialist or stone age inventor.