h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Dec 25

My dearest darling Edward,
What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me! That sweet partridge, in that lovely little pear-tree; what an enchanting, romantic, poetic present! Bless you, and thank you.

Your deeply loving,
Emily

Dec. 26

Beloved Edward,
The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing away in the pear-tree as I write. I'm so touched and grateful!

With undying love, as always,
Emily

Dec. 27

My darling Edward,

You do think of the most original presents! Who ever thought of sending anybody three French hens? Do they really come all the way from France? It's a pity we have no chicken coops, but I expect we'll find some. Anyway, thankyou so much; they're lovely.

Your devoted,

Emily

Dec. 28

Dearest Edward,

What a surprise! Four calling birds arrived this morning. They are very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly - they make telephoning almost impossible - but I expect they'll calm down when they get used to their new home. Anyway, I'm very grateful, of course I am.
Love from Emily

Dec. 29

Dearest Edward,

The mailman has just delivered five most beautiful gold rings, one for each finger, and all fitting perfectly! A really lovely present! Lovelier, in a way, than birds, which do take rather a lot of looking after. The four that arrived yesterday are still making a terrible row, and I'm afraid none of us got much sleep last night. Mother says she wants to use the rings to "wring" their necks. Mother has such a sense of humor. This time she's only joking, I think, but I do know what she means. Still, I love the rings.
Bless you,
Emily

Dec. 30

Dear Edward,

Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door this morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese laying eggs all over the porch. Frankly, I rather hoped that you had stopped sending me birds. We have no room for them, and they've already ruined the croquet lawn. I know you meant well, but let's call a halt, shall we?
Love,
Emily

Dec. 31

Edward,

I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS. This morning I woke up to find no more than seven swans, all trying to get into our tiny goldfish pond. I'd rather not think what's happened to the goldfish. The whole house seems to be full of birds, to say nothing of what they leave behind them, so please, please, stop!
Your Emily

Jan 1

Frankly, I prefer the birds. What am I to do with eight milkmaids? And their cows! Is this some kind of a joke? If so, I'm afraid I don't find it very amusing.
Emily

Jan. 2

Look here, Edward,

This has gone far enough. You say you're sending me nine ladies dancing. All I can say is, judging from the way they dance, they're certainly not ladies. The village just isn't accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless viragos, with nothing on but their lipstick, cavorting round the green, and it's Mother and I who get the blame. If you value our friendship, which I do (less and less), kindly stop this ridiculous behavior at once!
Emily

Jan 3

As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are prancing up and down all over what used to be the garden, before the geese and the swans and the cows got at it. And several of them, I have just noticed, are taking inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids. Meanwhile the neighbors are trying to have us evicted. I shall never speak to you again.
Emily

Jan 4

This is the last straw! You know I detest bagpipes! The place has now become something between a menagerie and a madhouse, and a man from the council has just declared it unfit for habitation. At least Mother has been spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday afternoon in an ambulance to a home for the bewildered. I hope you're satisfied.

Jan. 5

Sir,

Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to inform you that with the arrival on her premises at 7:30 this morning of the entire percussion section of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and several of their friends, she has no course left open to her but to seek an injunction to prevent you importuning her further. I am making arrangements for the return of much assorted livestock.

I am, Sir, yours faithfully,

G. Creep
Attorney at law

I have been reading this as you have been posting them up. I was just waiting for the last one to come up... I have been literally crying with laughter. I love it - fantastic writing!

LOL

*wiping eyes*

Superb

I read a similar one a couple of years ago. Only in that one it was a bit like the song, as in, on the first day a partridge turned up, on the second two turtle doves and a partridge, on the third day three french hens two turtle doves and a partridge.... you get the idea.

Very funny.

Ok, guys, I must admit that I did NOT, I repeat NOT write this.

I didnt want to spoil it by giving credits at the end, or worse, at the beginning. I copied it from a website that said 'source unkown'. They also added a note by someone who said it was adapted from something the National Lampoon had written a while back. I think I have also seen the one where the stuff keeps adding up, too. But I couldnt find a copy of it.

Ah, if only I WAS that witty.

Anyway, enjoy. It's one of my favorites.


}:=8

Heh, you are /that/ witty.
/YOU/ remembered it

It is superb. It is one of those things that makes you look at how we used to live, and how rediculas it would seem today. I love it. Can you remember anymore? Please?

BTW, If you live in England http://www.h2g2.com/A209487
You may have already got this and responded, but hey.

*blush*
Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed it.

I'm a bit of a curmudgeon about Xmas, so if I can think of anything else in a related vein, I will be sure to pass it on. Possibly something delightfully acerbic that Oscar Wilde or Dorothy Parker said...heeheehee

Unfortunately, I do not live in either London, New Zealand or California, so I will not be able to attend the 'Xmas get together'

But thank you so much, I am honored to have been asked. I will certainly be there in 'spirit' -- hopefully lots of spirits -- eggnog, buttered rum, mulled wine

}:=8

LOL, bludragon I loved it!
-B-

Brilliantly remembered - I first came across this as a BBC broadcast (Radio 4) on Christmas Day 1978. Read by Penelope Keith, as I recall. A true classic!

I saw this in a student rag mag doing the rounds in Chester.