Decoding the British ack-SEN-triks Movement

A Phonemological Analysis

by Harold P. Dowd

The consignment came by phone, without warming, under the cubbard of Knight: "Write something
inciteful, something refluxive, about the British ack-SEN-triks (sp?) movement," said a voice belong
ing to the polisher of a distinguished nonsense magazine, if I heard the mission correctly before my
telephone self-destructed in exactly 10 seconds. I was told that this movement, if I chose to write about it, roughly coin-sided with the "Tern of the Century." But the tip proved an unread herring, at best, as I knew nothing about that bird (the afermented tern), which must have been a standout in the Avian halls of omthidontistry, nor the century in which it made its fleeting appearance. Nor had I heard anything about the ill-legged ack-SEN-triks movement, British or otherwise, of any spelling or denomination. I was not, in truth, particularly well-traversed in this subject and was man enough to deny it to the hilt. My strategy was to do what any professional generalist - including well-known calumnists formerly on the parole of the Boston Globe - would have done in my place: I got proactive and procreative.
Eccentric Possibilities
There were, as best I could palpipate, only a hamful of possibilities. In the interests of thoroughbrededness, I decided to dissect them all- both one at a time and individually - to explode the various options until the correct interpretation became oblivious. Who were these forgotten men of science (not to be a sextant), and what remarkable contributions did they make to the evincement of knowledge and ineffectual marsh of progress?
It was not the science itself that stood out so much as the way it was resented, which made me think that my assignment could have reverted to the British "accentrics," since scientific instigators of British persuasion have always talked funny (to my untrammeled ear, at least), employing a strange accent - a stiltified manner of speech - best described as "British." I had occasion to meet one of these types, an English agronomist (actually farm-assist by trade) whose car broke down in Centerville and ended up in Barney's one night having a stiff one, while Walt and the gang gave his vehicle a stiff going over. With a name that sounded like "Cereal," he sure talked funny, just like on TV ("Fawlty Trousers"), going on for hours about clowned sheep and genitally-engineered soybeans. A nice guy, albeit lungwinded, but definitely accentric.
Speaking of TV, awhile back, perhaps on Late Night with David Lederhosen, I saw something that might have been called "Stupid Egg-Zen Tricks." I can't remember what happened, but I believe the extinguished guest (British Inlander perhaps?) sat on a dozen of middle-aged-America's farm-fresh finest while mediating/levitating - omitting occasional comments on the miracle of M. Byronic development - as the host's Lederhosen stood by respectfully, without cracking a single yoke.
Changeable Direction
There was also, if my infirm grasp of medical history bears up, the "ex-centrist movement" which, in the mist of the changeling currents of the Thimes or Thames, missed its doc appointment altogether, drifting either to the right or left, as the quays may be.
The British "Et Ceterists," an elite scientific debate society, capped off many an argument with the epigram ETC, standing for "Evident Thus Correct" or some such variegation. This group is, of course, a direct nonlinear precursor to Rush Limbo's lesion of "dittoheads" and the contemporaneous "parrotheads" of Buffett fame, who speak so longingly of "Magritteville" - also home to the factitious French detective composted by Simenon.
British Sex? Western Meat?

The British sex tantrics, to miss a metaphor or two, performed tricks using all manner of unnatural axe, combining the best of the Missionary and Hindish traditions. East meats West/West eats Meat, some say, though others wish they never had. I submit, from my va unted vantage point, that the less said about this sorted lot the better.
Leaving no stone interred, I trust we've finally deconstructed the mystery surrounding the barefoot, treeclimbing, simian-loving band of taxidermists (and other stuffed shirts) known to some - and loved by all who knew them - as the British ack-SEN- triks movement, a group whose money contributions to diverse areas of basic research have gained interest over the decades, accumulating an ultimate yield that could never have been predicted at the time.