the Brass Goggle Society
Even London's signature dull drizzle couldn't detract from the ponderous splendour of Her Majesty's airfleet as it embarked in dignified thunder towards the colonies, wreathed in humid golden steam vented from cogwork propulsion engines. The streets were thronged with gawping onlookers and Lord Wentlethorpe Philpott adjusted his aetheric monocle with a smile.With a bit of luck, they should be just past Dover before they discovered that he'd dusted the flagship's coal with heliumite powder.
