More evidence that I can't resist mucking about

What I love about the word 'antonym' is that it means 'opposite' and 'antonym' is the opposite of the word 'synonym' - it's so cool when things turn out like that.

What would have happened had some famous novelists thought, 'Nah!  Stupid idea!  I'll do just the opposite.'  I have had a think about this, and here I offer you some 'Antonymised (?) Book Titles' and the storylines which may have emerged ...

A Room Without a View - A young middle-class woman visits Italy and gets a room with a beautiful view.  Some chaps next door offer to swap it for one which overlooks the hotel boiler room and a yard where the dustbins are kept.  She feels she can't say no and gives in.  This leads to more giving in when someone called Cecil asks her to marry him.  Having settled for a view of a hotel boiler room and dustbin yard, marrying someone called Cecil seems to fit into the general picture of settling for second best.  Just in time, she dumps Cecil and marries George instead.  It's a close-run thing, though, and to be borne in mind by all young women who are taken in by fellow hotel guests.

Gulliver's Dossing About at Home - A chap called Gulliver whose business has failed leafs through a few travel brochures wondering what to do with his spare time.  He drops off to sleep and has a strange dream in which he meets some very tiny people, some very big people, some very clever but silly people, some very old but silly people and some very brainy horses who are served by some more very silly people.  When he wakes up from this dream, he thanks his lucky stars that none of it was real, because if so he would have felt inclined to write it all down, and an unlikely tale that would have proved!  He pours himself a beer and settles back down on the sofa to watch re-runs of old black and white films.

Three Men Outside a Boat - Three friends, all dressed in white suits and wearing ridiculous boater-style hats, decide that it would be ripping fun to sail down the Thames just because there is nothing else to do.  They stand beside the boat, looking at it.  There is a problem.  Inside the boat is the most humungous dog.  Not only is the dog humungous, but it is called Montmerency.  'Well,' says one of the friends, 'I have no objection to squeezing into the boat alongside a canine, but being in a boat with a canine called Montmerency is a situation up with which I will not put.'   (This particular chap was a pedant and would not have dreamed of splitting an infinitive.)  The other two friends try to persuade him that Montmerency isn't a bad name for a dog, but he is impossible to convince and keeps saying, 'We either change it to Rover or Spot, or I am afraid you will have to sail without me', and in the end, they have to abandon the trip and go to work.  No one gets to hear, therefore, about any comic incidents to do with barometers and bagpipes.  Not everyone is upset by this.