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

"oh the dead joke stage is coming over the hill...."

A twin sister of Doris eh ? When you get together is that a match of the days ?

Anyway are we supposed to be decorating,gardening or following erroneous leads by pheroneous ?

Wumby - please don't eat the daisies !

Oh sorry, I thought they were buttercups.

Seriously, I came home tonight very slightly unintoxicated, and found Wummenbeevil....no I don't think I can speak the words... she was....

*sobs*

....she was watching Young at Heart.

Is this grounds for divorce? Is my intoxification grounds for coffee?

*now about this decorating, I think I may be in a fit state to hang wallpaper at the traditional 75 degree angle*

*Wakes up from a nightmare involving Doris Day, Winnie the Pooh and a bunch on Canadian psychoanalysts taking part in a karaoke competition and screams*

Argh! It was real!

*Makes her way to the bar in search of sustenance and/or medication and peers at Wumbeevil over the top of her strong black coffee*

So...are you feeling "young at heart" today?

*Chokes on her coffee grounds and sprays Wumbeevil's face with coffee*

Gwennie at last. We were beginning to wonder... I mean we like Spike and everything and he seems to be settling in well. Not quite so tuneful as the Snughound on the low notes but he plays well for the arpeggios if you move his tail just the right way. I've been letting him sleep in the Jag with me and the 41 mice but I bet he'll be glad to get home for the holidays.

Delight at the re-appearance of the glorious Gwennie tempered only by concern for Lil. Will parameter surfeit affect decorating skills. Nothing worse than decorating schemes designed when balance of mind disturbed. I worry, not just for the future of mankind, but also the mood, the atmosphere, the zeitgeist even, of our seedy Inn.

Why, thank you kind sirs! It's so nice to know that one is missed! And thank you for looking after Spike for me while I was "out". You have to watch him around legs though as he can be a tad "over friendly" at times (even though he's had the two bricks treatment).

*Looks round at the pubs decor*

This place should appear slightly more "broken in" you know and if you like, I could bring my cats down for a visit as they're a dab hand (or claw) at shredding wallpaper...Mind you, they're not too keen on strange men and there's plenty of those around here!

**shakes leg**

wait til you meet the women!

**shakes leg more vigorously**

Actually, with temperatures at night dropping into the uncomforably cold range, even for a Canadian, I have found Spike's company in the Jag quite stimulating. I suspected he had had Huskie sled dog training as he is quite adept at keeping circulation flowing to the lower limbs. Even the 41 mice have been snuggling up with us.

*wipes coffee from his face*

Thanks Gwennie, but after what Spike did to me, I take that as a pleasurable experience.

Oh hello Pheroneous. *Shakes his leg in a Masonic greeting*

Is Huskie sled dog training a form of arctic pooper scooper? The public has a right to know.

The Canadian poet Irving Layton, as you might (may?) as well know, is quite a gruff lecherous old sod with a keen eye for women and dogs. His experience of high arctic bowel evacuation in sub zero temperatures surrounded by hungry Huskies (you don't scoop anything up there, the dogs pass it down the pecking order and the bears, birds and wolves get whats left when you move on) was the inspiration for perhaps the most memorable specimen of Canadian Literature. Ever.
Thus far.

This sounds thoroughly disgusting and in the worst possible taste! Tell us more, please.

**shakes leg at Wumbeevil. Unfortunately unable to dislodge dog thing.**

Dis lodge, dat lodge..it's all the same up north or even in the southern wilderness of Canada. Nobdoy locks their cabins because someone might NEED to find shelter...

'Nobdoy'? Jeeeez...

[quiet laughter from a lurker.... get'em Spike!]

Di's lodge? Nobdoy's lodge? Is this place full of Masons?

Oh no, not Helter Smelter again. Down Spike.

*Shakes leg and throws neuticles at mari-rae in a vain attempt to distract Spike from having his (Wumbe)evil way*

Scientists threw out the Western Whirl are tune-ight wandering how to neutral-eyes the neuticles. These seemingly bee-nine orbs are now at least a size seven and encouraging domestic animals everywhere to honour the flames that burn withing their loins.

BumWeEvil! How's the flock? Or more to the point (if Max Moron and the evangelical smut patrol aren't listening)
How the flock are you?

[still lurking]

ducks neuticles!


quack quack quack!

I'm not dead, I'm resting. My total lack of movement is due to me being tired and shagged out after a long squawk.

Talking about which (the former), I'd better get a sleep or work is going to be fun today.

Talking about which (the latter), *attaches leg to a pneumatic drill and switches it on in a vain bid to get rid of Spike*

Well, flock a duck. It's not often that happens at this time of night.

...err, the almost simulpost was what I meant

...but you knew that, right?