A failed mystery novelist who can't pay his rent in Brighton (England's Coney Island) inherits an antique typewriter from his bosomy landlady. Lo, the typewriter speaks! and begins writing its own sex-swelling penny-dreadfuls, with the landlady as heroine straining her magnificent breasts against him. Like Walter Mitty, the hero is in and out of reality tapoketa tapoketa, one moment typing, the next plunged into Bolivian headhunters with Captain Gregory Dangerfield. Frankly, the writing's none too suave; the liveliest movements are in this world, not the fantasy world -- unlike Thurber.