A most disconcerting conversation with a young Italian fellow this afternoon, who goes by the name of Marconi. Whilst on my regular constitutional in Hyde Park, I chanced upon a crowd held in rapturous awe by a demonstration of some ingenious device. After much cheering, the throng dispersed, allowing me to indulge in intercourse with the man who had just moments previously enjoyed what appeared to be a spectacular success.
"Are you familiar with the principles of wireless telegraphy?" says he, speaking in excellent English for a foreigner.
"No, Signor," I replied. "You regrettably have me at a disadvantage."
My response served as a signal for an exposition which must have lasted a full hour, in which the Italian revealed that he was an inventor of a device for sending Morse signals through the ether. Immediately my thoughts turned to my birthday on 1st November. If I were able to gain access to such a device, even for a matter of a few minutes, I might broadcast news of my celebrations as far as The Needles on the Isle of Wight. The rational side of my mind did, however, remind me that talk of 'wireless' Morse is nothing more than conjuror's illusion. After two score years, I have developed an uncanny ability to identify a charlatan.
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