The theme of such happy events continues into 1924 when, if my memory of my history A level is correct, as Hitler's Munich putch goes pear shaped and he goes to prison. And a cuddly socialist chap called Matteotti stood up in the Italian Chamber of Deputies and accused Mussolini of rigging the elections, and being a general bastard. O'course, his story ends a little less happily, as, purely coincidentally, he gets dragged into a car on his way home, and is found the next day with a metal file protruding from his chest.

...and then Il Duce continues his fun and games by telling everyone that they're Fascist, and he's their dictator. And they all go, "Mwuh? Uh. Okay." Oh, and the KKK has a bit of a resurgence in Washington.

 

Still, on the upside, 1925 also saw the signing of the Locarno Pact, /and/ the introduction of London's first double decker busses!

Although the busses no doubt stopped running, when we had a bit of a general strike, in 1926. Just a few days after somebody tried to kill that Mussolini chap. In fact, seems like a bad year for dictators, as someone had a pop at Primo, over in Spain, too. Which I've always considered a bit harsh. I mean, yes, he staged a military coup and overthrew the government, but he wasn't all that nasty, and he was genuinely delusional, and thought he was in tune with the Spanish public. Which'll be why he withdrew Spain from the League of Nations.

Meanwhile, the Americans were executing their own particular brand of crazy, and handing death sentances out to any immigrants who're accused of a crime, a la Sacco and Vanzetti.

 

And 1600 stupid people get hospitalised on December 12, after slipping on Britain's icy streets.

Nothing interesting happened in 1928.

Which would cause lots of boredom and apathy and such, and might explain why The Great Depression started in 1929.

In this year, the first documented case of time travel occurred; a Mr Daniel Herman materialised in Chicago, stealing Luigi "Knuckles" Marionetti's fedora hat, before padlocking the gates to Mr Marionetti's mansion shut and vanishing.

It's been rather cold recently hasn't it. BUt, i think we can safely say that it wasn't as cold as 1932 when Niagra Falls actually froze solid.

January 30th, 1933, and President Hindenburg has a chat with leading politician/businessman Von Papen, and decides Hitler's probably 'not that bad', and gives him the Chancellorship. Less than a month later, and the Reichstag's on fire. Coo. A fitted-up Socialist is found nearby, and the Enabling Act is passed as the result. Hindenburg wonders if, perhaps, he might have been mistaken.

 

On the other side of the Atlantic, though, FDR's being all warm and fuzzy, and broadcasts his first Fireside Chat, shortly before doing his whole New Deal thing. (hug) 

 

The international media's attention is directed to Scotland, however, where the first modern sighting of the Loch Ness Monster has just occured.

 

A little more subtly, however, our world changes for the better, as the revered Ruth Wakefield invents the chocolate chip cookie.

Then in 1934, Harold Clayton Urey won a Noble Prize for Chemistry after discovering heavy hydrogen, or Deuterium as it's also known.

The isotope of hydrogen in which the nucleus contains one proton and one neutron, sometimes called heavy hydrogen. The deuterium atom (called the deuteron) is denoted either ²H or D.

Deuterium may be pretty heavy, but it wasn't as heavy as the great flood of July 7, 1935, the heaviest rainfall ever recorded in New York.

Which might explain why, in 1936, Culligan started selling water treatment produces.

No wonder Mrs. Not Afraid Bear, a Lower Yanktonian Sioux, believes that 1936 was the driest and hottest summer of all her lifetime.

Italy win the World Cup for the second time. Rumours that a Russian linesman was born in this year go unconfirmed.

1939, and the Spanish Civil War is drawing to an end, with the Falange (founded by Primo de Rivera's son) as a dominant force within the nationalists. Spain then leaves the League of Nations. Again.

 

Elsewhere, in Tales-Of-Right-Wing-Nutcases, Hitler helps himself to a bit of Poland, and is upset to find the Western allies slightly peeved. The USSR is kicked out of the League of Nations for helping itself to the rest of Poland. The League of Nations is rapidly becoming the League of Nation.

 

Over the pond, Canada joins in and declares war on Germany, but the US says it's not touching /that/ mess with a barge pole, and busies itself making nuclear bombs.

 

Apparently, though, nothing nice happens, at all. Well, Mussolini's Italy invades Albania, forcing a King called Zog into exile. Not that nice in itself, but Zog is a pretty funny name. Also, Batman was created. Oh, and there was another Pius pope. But then, they all were, weren't they?

1940 starts with a bang when transposons, or 'jumping genes', are found in the DNA of /maize/, of all things.

 

On a roll, 1940 carries on it's big plans by opening the first McDonalds and putting the first nylon stockings up for sale on the very same day.

 

Furthermore, some French kids stumble across Lascaux caves. Whilst Britain was blowing up the French fleet and breaking diplomatic relations with Vichy France, though, so I guess 1940 wasn't all fun and games.

 

A few other war-type things, like the Battle of Britain happened, but Leon Trotsky was assasinated in Mexico City on Stalin's orders, which is a shame, because he had a cool name. Mussolini gets told off by Hitler (who Mussolini expected to be revered by as the father of Fascism) for fucking up the invasion of Greece (in that he ended up going backwards).

 

There's a bit of a high at the end of the year, though, when the Tacoma Narrows Bridge does that hilarious bendy thing and falls apart when the wind blows. Engineers are quoted as saying they "didn't think of that."

Maize makes another effort in 1941, when General Mills introduce CheeriOats (now Cheerios), which quite possibly contain maize. I dunno. Do I look like some kind of cereal expert?

 

Citizen Kane premiers, the House of Commons is damaged, and Rudolf Hess makes a prat of himself and becomes the last prisoner to be detained in the Tower of London. That whole Hood/Bismark/Ark Royal thing happens, which just pisses off both sides. A chap called Takeo Yoshikawa turns up in Hawaii, and starts asking pertinent questions about Pearl Harbour. The US finally joins in just at the end of the year.

 

As a little portent of things to come, the Vietminh has now formed, whilst nobody was looking. Oh, and the first quiz show is aired on TV. And TV ads are legalised. Best of all, though, some nutcases claim that bits of Oregan and California are now the State of Jefferson, and hand out leaflets to that effect, saying they are in "patriotic rebellion against the States of California and Oregon" and would continue to "secede every Thursday until further notice." :'D 

Or Pearl Harbor, as it's more correctly known.

 

I do so enjoy your history nanolessons. Do continue.

 

edit: just so I keep my end up (no John):

 

In nineteen hundred and forty-two, the Declaration of United Nations was signed by 26 Allied nations. Out east a bit, Russians and Germans start a bit of a punch-up in Stalingrad, while in America Enrico Fermi makes nuclear headway by setting up the world's first atomic reactor in Chicago.

1943 began and ended on a Friday