Overobservedose, or, The Emperor's New Clothes

I feel there should be a word - something along the lines of religiose - to describe something that affects to be well observed, but isn't. Somehow well-observedose doesn't quite cut it.

I've been tinkering with a story called Go Home, Mr Frigg. It's actually a kind of mash-up of elements from the last and of course unpublished novel I wrote, Darlington Frigg - which some may consider cheating - but for me the more interesting aspect is a couple of lines that I've never changed:

Seconds after each round of explosions, the water in their hole rose a little, then dropped back. Curious. Five times he saw his own face in silver ripples, winking and pulling faces back at him.

Now, over time I've stolen this past a great number of critics - verbally, and on paper - it's 'startlingly real', advertises Storytails - and no-one yet has complained that this particular natural phenomenon doesn't, wouldn't, couldn't happen. Could it? It's like a historical account of the mobilisation for the first world war, referencing an eye-witness account of the troops leaving from platform 9 3/4.

Actually, maybe I'd read that.