Wordy Wednesday: Most Fortunately Rescued

I’m reading Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy Sayers.  I loved this assessment of police novels:

“It beats me,” said Wimsey, “the way these policemen give way over a trifling accident. In the Sexton Blake book that my friend Ginger Joe has just lent me, the great detective, after being stunned with a piece of lead-piping and trussed up for six hours in ropes which cut his flesh nearly to the bone, is taken by boat on a stormy night to a remote house on the coast and flung down a flight of stone steps into a stone cellar.  Here he contrives to release himself from his bonds after three hours’ work on the edge of a broken wine-bottle, when the villain gets wise to his activities and floods the cellar with gas. He is most fortunately rescued at the fifty-ninth minute of the eleventh hour and, pausing only to swallow a few ham sandwiches and a cup of strong coffee, instantly joins in a prolonged pursuit of the murderers by aeroplane, during which he as to walk out along the wing and grapple with a fellow who has just landed on in from a rope and is proposing to chuck a hand-grenade into the cockpit. And here is my own brother-in-law–a man I have known for nearly twenty years–giving way to bad temper and bandages because some three-by-four crook has slugged him one on his own comfortable staircase. (pg 112)

I laughed aloud.  The implausibility of  books is matched only by the implausibility of cop shows on TV.