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

it's uncurable I'm afraid Chai!!

"Afore ye flea," the witchy cried
"I have just one request.
Pray let me know what's best to wear
neath this here old string vest"

The Dandy, halted in his stride
and turned his foppish head
"If I divulge said secret here
the Beast will strike me dead"

"The Beast, The Beast of Grimley Moer
it's hide of gnarléd Hartlets
it's Mangstel breath, it's flurtid teeth
and Spantrel-efid Shartlets"

"Oh please, oh please," cried witchywaif
"your little snookum beary"
"Get off the ground, you haggard wench
you're blubbing like a fairy"

It's ne'er too good to aim such words
at those with skills of magic.
One eyelid flickered from witchywaif
the outcome was quite tragic.

The Dandy lost his Dandy charm,
his waistcoat turned to butter;
his words, til now, so finely said
spewed forth in fetid stutter.

"Carshnag Fal doch, yurl snarking chamf
Coy rastnet fargle wastrelsh
Yap bovic tarth snoy lappik nat
wenk tarsingboil thiy feltish"

The evil wench, in putrid stench
raised high and evil cackle
and dandy's hereto silky skin
did boil and start to crackle.

You've got to take yourself in hand
No need for any chimicals
Admit this tale will have no end
And hie thee back to rimickles

Oh heartless fiend, oh callous imp
how dare you sleight this ballad!
Get thee back to the Rimickle track
or I'll serve thee up with Salad.

Once more the dreaded Simulpost
Makes correspondence fluffy;
Yon fetid stutter made me most
To snerdle in my coffee

And now this ballad threateneth
A Hardy growth as Laurel:
The fabled battling unto death
O'er-spilling into RL

The Witchywaif, the Crackled Dand
The antwerp eagle watchéd
As two of those who didst compose
their ballad long all squab'led.

"I say, I say" old witchy said
"that's really just not on.
We're the stars of this epic here
off you go! Be Gone!"

And so the tale of Grimley Moer
retained the ground of fore
and rambled on in a sim'lar way
as it had done before
Until that is we drift away
off topic again, once more.

But then, 'tis said, they westwards sped
To find the first green isle,
Arriving after sunset as
The Moon began to smile.

Our Dandy, scorched, and Eagle, torched,
Sought room for over-night,
And spotted, twinkling through the gloom
A fire, a welcome sight.

The fire was poked and fed by one
Whose like they'd never seen,
A scrawny, gangly bearded wight
With trews of leathery sheen.

He welcomed them with scarce a word
But for the occasional "Wow!"
He said, "This stuff is so far out
I'm through the cosmos now."

Our lads, though vexed were quite perplexed
At what his words might mean,
Resolving him to question in
The day, when sense is seen.

That night as Eagle snorely slumped
Within his nasal nest,
Young Dandy's sleep, devoid of sheep,
Permitted him no rest.

He heard their new companion who
Still gunkered by the fire,
Begin a song, bizarrely long,
He plucked his Lektro Lyre -

"A time there was, e'er time began
When all was dark and gloomy,
Across the face of empty space
A sign read "REALLY ROOMY -

"THIS VACANT SUITE IS VOID BUT NEAT
NO PREVIOUS DESECRATION,
THE VIEW IS FREE, THE COSMIC SEA
AWAITS YOUR OCCUPATION."

Arose therein a pint of gin
And a trembling hand that held it,
And soon arose a scarlet nose
That sniffed the gin and smelled it.

Within the vasty vacant void
The being came in focus -
A drunken god, who waved his rod
In febrile hocus-pocus.

"Oh soddit," said the drunk divine,
"There's something I've forgotten.
An egg that's raw to soothe my craw,
This gin is cheap and rotten."

He slumpered down,and on his crown
A light-bulb briefly flickered,
"My head is whirled, let's make a world,"
He farted, belched, and snickered.

He waved his rod, and from its knob
There sprung a blazing stream
Of stardust, which he swallowed with
The gin, his eyes a-gleam.

He swelled, he grew, he quickly knew
He'd picked his cosmic clover,
He bloated, burst and roundly cursed -
His drinking days were over.

And out there spread from his scattered head
A dreamscape bright and starry.
Above, bright blue, with silvery hue,
Beneath, the void, all tarry.

Among the stars and galaxies
That spun in drunken rapture,
One small blue world serenely furled
With no idea of capture.

But gods are strangely jealous, yes,
They need tough wives to keep
Them partly sober through the day
And out of sozzled sleep.

So, jealously, another god
Who'd lost his invitation
And had gate-crashed the sad gin-fest,
Surveyed this new creation.

His name meant Dreadful Swallower,
The heavenly garbage cleaner,
And as gods went he liked to go,
But jogging kept him leaner.

He saw the stars and galaxies
Expanding like a bubble.
He said "This lot from that drunken sot
Can only lead to trouble."

He grabbed his cup and scooped them up,
And in one gulp he swallowed
The drunken god's celestial bods
Not caring what ill followed.

So to this day the starry way
Is dark. There is no question,
But heavenly hues and soulful blues
Are swallower's indigestion.

And everywhere there's friendly hair
And suits in stripes of pin,
You know you're with the servants of
The gods of Ori Gin."

The gangly youth, to tell the truth
Had pondered matters deep,
But better yet, a sure safe bet,
Young Dandy fell asleep.

And so he slept for days and days
- four score and 10 they say -
Until the Snarking Woltenbeast
did upon him stray.

"Wake up Oh crackled erstwhile Dand,
pray stir from your deep slumber
and let me sip the drink so cool
that sits there in yon tumbler."

The Dandy fellow, sleep filled eyes
did nod his crinkly head
and turned his back on the Snarkling chap
that stood there by his bed.

Bare half a sec had scuttled past
when Dandy, much more sprightly
kicked tumbler from the Wolten's hand
Good job he did, quite rightly.

"From whence did come this vestible
from whence the drink therein
Twas not within my luncheon box
provided by my kin"

"Two sarnies: one of ham, one cheese,
a pack of Pickled Onion
four sides of salted Chemling bits
one chocolate coated bunyon

"there was no drink to wash it down
no brew to ease its passage
but half a quart of Cardling fronds
and one litre of mollasage"

The Woltenbeast was struck quite dumb
its mouth did gape wide open
and twixt its teeth, a curious sight:
A Laundromatic token.

Once more the focus zoometh out
And greater gorws the damage
What's it about, this cosmic rout,
The Epic of Gil-Gammage?

Forsooth, forsooth, you are uncouth
tis not your place to curse,
didst though not read the tirle well
"... the longest nonsense verse"

Would never do to scuttle 'pon
the rocks of finite fiction
a ballad of such epic size,
such splendour and such diction.

post 167!!!!

the whole thing!
Ekki if you're not careful you're going to end up like Chaiwallah!

O Snockerty, we all agree
We miss your input sorely!
Just pen another verse or three
And we'll not feel so poorly

(Apologies to Wallah Chai
Who started all this rot
He asks me not to post asides
That don't advance the plot

But what is plot, I'm wondering
When he wrote all that stuff
On drunken gods, their chundering
And such distracting guff)

( Meanwhile,back on track!!!!!!!!!!)

The gangly youth,who had no luth,
Plucked at his flabbid lyre,
And sang a song, thanks be, not long.
Twould set no hearts afire.

"My Luvvis Drood
My Luvvis crood
My Luvvis sharply
Darkly shrood.

" I wish I saw
My Luvv delish
A-gangle liken
Lissom fish.

"My Luvvis Drood
My Luvvis lyood
My Luvvis carply
Harply nyood."

"Well dear oh dear," said Eagle, "Clear
It is he is no linnet.
Don't you long for the Witch-waif's flube?
This stuff is gharkly, innit?"

"Gharkly is as gharkly does"
the Dandy quipped derisive
Whatever 'twere the song did say
it sounded quite decisive.

"One thing at least, that Woltenbeast
Has now completely vanished,
That leaves us with this gangly bard
More polished off than spanished."

"Hi, guys," the Gangly Bard awoke,
"It's really cool to meet ya.
I thought you'd like my latest lines,
The tune's me favrit feature.

"And help yourselves to breakfast too,
That's if you've got the munchies.
It's all biotic, rawly brown,
Except for the deep-fried crunchies.

"Oh, by the way, my name is Blay,
I'm hitching down to Glurry.
I'm going to sing, and also bring
Some bags of my 'special' curry.
Why don't I hang along with you,
I'm not in any hurry."

Chaiwallah you must harness all
The power in your possession
I sincerely hope you learn to cope
With your Grimley obsession

I see it rhymbles onward still
Its pace is quite alarming
The comedy hilarious
The fnurtage is quite charming

I had to give it up a while
The game became a curse
Now I even eat my dinner in
Four lines of rhyming verse

And for those who hadn't noticed
As this ballad grows more queer
That the full unabridged version
Can be found by clicking here A1070786

Meanwhile the Gangly Blay gave voice
To notes both fleet and flat,
With mind unsure, but motives pure
He warbled with eclat.

"Oh Snockerty, oh Snockerty,
You are so sorely missed.
We wondered at your absence,
We assumed you must be pissed,

"Like Bards of old, your weight in gold
Is far too low a price,
To pay to hear your rhymes so clear,
We'd sing them in a trice.

"Come back, come back, don't twist the rack
Of our anticipation,
We need your like to give a hike
To this our mad creation"

"Ere, wot was that?" the Eagle asked,
"A song I've never heard."
"Beats me," the Gangly Blay replied
"I didn't catch a word,
These things just pop into me 'ed
As though they just occurred.
And seriously, since last night's bash,
Me vision's somewhat blurred.
The trouble with that "Temple Black",
As sh*t goes, it's the turd."

This epic tale by now has reached
Of pages twenty four* (*A4, single column )
Do not despair, but write with flair
And give us twenty more.
Did we perchance a groan perceive,
Perhaps an angry roar?

For as we reach this present speech
Of pages four and twenty
We understand you may command
"That's quite enough, that's plenty."
And we may say, "Enough? That's tough,
This coffer's still not empty."

The time has come to show our cards
And make our drift quite clear,
An epic ballad, as a form,
May p'raps beguile the ear,
But should have lots of twists and turns
That venture far and near,
And inner tales, and hidden Grails,
And songs, and thongs, and beer,
And epic deeds that chill the blood
And make you shake with fear,
And lovers' needs, and prayers and pleads
That bring a salty tear,
Not mentioning the belly laughs
And a welcome change of gear,
And all of this pure nonsense is
And weirdly, squierdly quear.