No one seemed to notice that a new door appeared upon the wall of the old building in central London. All those people in their black taxi cabs and red double decker busses completely ignored the blue door marked "New and Used Books" suddenly materializing between a cafe and bakery.

The door opened and an old man with grey hair and beard in a tweed suit stepped out. Closing the door behind him, he took a rather comical double take, donned a pair of spectacles' and said to himself, "A bookshop door? This won't do at all. A Cambridge don's rooms can't have a door marked 'New and Old Books'. I shouldn't have let them give you that Mark Three upgrade. Nothing has worked right since."

The man looked about the busy street, and said, "This is definitely not Cambridge. London, I would say. Early twenty-first century for certain. Let's see. I need milk. Can't have tea with out milk."

The old Professor strolled down the street, looking at each door, muttering, "Can't get milk there."

So intent was this Professor to find a shop that sold milk, he was oblivious to the small army of constables converging just down the block. Once he finally arrived at the shop bustling with with constables, all he had to say was, "I can get milk here!"

The Professor wasn't a very large man, and he was able to easily squeeze himself into the crowded shop. Within, several constables were trying to forcibly restrain a belligerent man.

"Excuse me," said the Professor, "I need to get to the milk behind you."

Ignoring the old man, a constable gave his captive a great pull, and with a loud "pop" his head came off.

"Blimey!" cried another constable, "You pulled his head clean off, Tom!"

There was no blood, nor mess. The head simply rolled along the floor like a shop window dummy's while the body continued to thrash about.

"What do we do?" asked constable Tom.

"We should do what I usually do in situations like this," Professor. "Run!"