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A sleek, white, minimalist flat overlooks the Thames. The living room - a spacious haven of silence where select pieces of bespoke furniture appear to float above the gleaming parquet. Off the living room, the kitchen - a mass of reflections of brushed steel in glass and glass in brushed steel. In
the corner of the kitchen stands a toughened glass pillar, three foot high, hollow, and the shape of a foot in cross-section. It ticks gently like a quiet long case clock.
A slender girl in a white dress pads in from the living room in bare feet and carelessly tosses a pile of paper shreddings into the container, which settle in the bottom. She returns to the living room and lies back in a capacious sofa with a notepad and pen.
Over a while the ticking gently increases until at last it breaks into her consciousness. She looks at her Cartier watch - ten seconds to four. The ticking gets louder quickly: tick... tock... Tick... Tock...T ICK... TOCK... BONNNNNGGGGG!!! A gong shakes the building and several persian cats flee for cover. Swiftly the Monty Python Foot descends from the ceiling on a hydraulic ram, slides inside the glass container and crushes down the paper shreddings into a flat cake of paper before retreating back into the ceiling.
As the gong fades, she can just hear the first faint ticks of the next hour.
Cranking Out the Time
reminds me of this [FarmerJohn, Oct 22 2004]
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||With thanks to [po] and her teensy weensy shredder.
||<bow> get you at playtime!
||As I recall, the Monty Python foot makes less of a gong sound, and more of an oddly truncated flatulent sound.
||[nick] - The flatulence would work too, so long as it's REALLY LOUD!
||[FJ] - remind me not to try to compete in the 'weird timepieces' department.
||quite right nick <get my message?>