Originally Posted by MisterV View Post
and no this, the impetus for the Lyttle Lytton contest, where people compete to write the worst first sentence (in 25 words or less) of the worst imaginary novel:

This opening, from the 1830 novel Paul Clifford, reads in full:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
It was a bright and calm day; the sun shone gently—except at occasional intervals, when it was softened by a gentle breeze which meandered through the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rustling through the treetops, and softly enhancing the steady glow of the lamps that shone confidently in the light.