We'll Always Have Whitby

It seems that the Bermuda Triangle, an isoscelesian expanse of geometric geography if ever there was one, has itself recently mysteriously disappeared. It was once impossible to purchase a used, mass-market, paperback book of weird tales and strange occurrences that did not devote at least two chapters to the subject. These days such publications are stuffed with nonsense about spectral housewives who are doomed to haunt shopping malls until they can spend all the discount sale coupons they failed to redeem in life, or tedious paragraphs about talking moths attempting to deliver long-winded and incomprehensible messages to bemused, pot-smoking teenagers. Where, the discerning Yeti aficionado demands to know, are the good, old-fashioned stories about Spring Heeled Jacks frightening pregnant women, diabolical goat-men prowling the Parisian sewers, and twin-engine amphibious aircraft that suddenly vanish without trace during routine flights around Cape Bizarro? No doubt boxes of files containing information on these important topics will soon be washed ashore upon the North Yorkshire coast - but will they be discovered amongst all those severed feet scattered about all over beach?