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

Aren't you going to put up any twinkly lights? Is that all we're going to have, dusty white crepe paper and leftover greens dripping pine needles onto the carpet?

I lugged these over to the Christmuse forum but they weren't appreciated, so I've brought them here *carefully places a book of 78 rpm records labelled "Christmas with Bing Crosby" on the counter* I inherited them from me dad. If you don't like these I have Jimmy Durante, Al Jolson, Mario Lanza and Spike Jones, too.

I particularly like those twinkly lights that never work the next year until you have changed every bulb, and then go out as soon as you put them up, so you have to test every one until you find the right one, and then you haven't any spare bulbs, and Woolworths is closed at midnight on Xmas eve.

Bing Crosby? Nat King Cole?...have you never heard of Max Bygraves?

May I suggest Spike Milligan?

"I'm walking backwards for Christmas,
Across the Irish Sea."

A trifle avante guarde for these environs, methinks!

OK Guys, a nice box of baubles, trinkets and beads from the snug! Ask no questions, tell no lies.

What? How did you get these? They're not stolen are they? Have you been a felonious Pheroneous?

*Sits back and watches Pheloneous's proboscis carefully.*

---
Ahem. Excuse me but I'm looking for a felonious monk. I have been told by god that it is my duty and priviledge to offer to take over the landscape recovery of your back patios and terraces which are unsightly and gone to seed. The trees have grown up and you can't see the lake anymore. This whole place was originally designed by Capability Brown and he has spoken to me (while I slept in that old Jaguar Mark II that is abandoned on the terrace) and my mission is clear. I would be quite happy to stay in the Jaguar. I only got in to light up a smoke and fell asleep; but it's quite comfy and I have been there for three days now. The mice that live in its leather seats have come to accept me and love to have me hum "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" for them as they dance across the cracked burled walnut dash.
Is Mister Monk upstairs at the committee meeting? I did submit my application there but I'm not sure if they took me seriously or even knew what I was talking about. I'm talking about the condition of more than fifty acres of the finest Capabilty Brown landscaping ever done. It needs pruning. But by the looks of things so do all of you.

You'll be some sort of umbrella man then, Fulton old chap? Gardens, gardens? So there are. And is that your decrepit Ford Capri with a Jaguar badge on the front and several enterprising mice peeping through the sun roof?

This is, as you see, the committee room, and now and again we have a committee of some sort, and you can be hereby appointed to the committee for capabilities and gardening. Get it sorted, please. You could try asking for volunteers, but knowing this lot....

Ahem, by way of Any Other Business, I have some unfortunate circumstances to report. The yobs down in the snug , chiefly Pheroneous, it has to be said, have taken it upon themselves to borrow some Christmas trees from around the village for use as firewood. One of them came from No27, next door, where that nice young Phillipa lives with some sort of witch, and she has discovered their wicked deed. Some of the baubles and tinsel etc. were stripped from the trees, and given to me, in all innocence I declare, for your use up here. To avoid the possibility of diverse spells and trickery being perpetrated on the entire BOF Inn, they are proposing to kidnap the girl, so that Pheroneous can indulge in some personal pleasure fetish thing involving bondage, and they can also avert the possibility of an all-out war with the village.

May I repectfully ask whether the various committees in session here have any strong feelings on the matter.

Not that I want to tell you how to keep a good fire going, but given the time of year, perhaps we could solicit donations of Tiny Tim crutches from the h2g2 populace. It is a known fact that everyone has their own unique crutch purloined from Dicken's imagination and no doubt most of them are dry enough to burn by now.

Sorry, mate, don't do fires here, far too energetic. All that poking around. Saloon and Snug, old chap.

You will see on BOF Inn page that you have need formally appointed.

DISASTER Chaps! Mention on Front Page today! Not a good sign. Beware Riff-Raff.

"riff raff enters"
Ah ! it must all be happening here - I've been stuck down in the cellar with some bloke who is talking to himself .
No bar staff!!
Did I hear that somebody wants to buy some crutches ?
Lorry load out the front has to be in Sheffield by midnight but some could fall of - know what I mean ?
That fire could do with a bit of brightening up - have a mate in the sticks who sells period fire places - called Grate Expectations or something.
Any way let us know if you want anything - always pass this way.
First time I've been in here - are you sure you have planning permission ?

Planning permission?? What is all this. Whose been planning? Crutches, Fires..I don't understand any of this.

THERE ARE NO FIRES in the committee rooms. You may want to go to the snug, where the sudden availability of firewood may save a young girl's life.

But, far more interesting, if you would like to chat away on one of our lovely committees, please do. We're not listening. Enjoy!

-a very wet man with what may be a mouse on his shoulder enters and delivers a silent soliloqy on the unfairness of it all in the vast acoustic void of unlistening committee members. The hollowness there-of echoes loudly - he stumbles past toward the Snug

I say wasn't that the chap who going to clean up the terraces.
Yes been living in that old Jag out there.
What old Jag? Pheronious told me it was a Capri.
Swore to me it was a Prefect left here by Jimi Hendrix in '68.
I say, there's a bit of a mob gathering below.
Oh it's that witch and some young greek god named Zeus.
Well at least business is picking up in the bars.
Hummm...Yes...
Ahhh...Yes...

I think, good people, we need to discuss the furture employment of Pheronius in the Snug. What with kidnap attempts, and resultant raids in the night, the allowing of punters to help themselves to the drinks and now the bringing upon the premises of ghosts of weird Irish authors, we need an employment tribunal...and some lawyers...and some minutes...and an absence of Press...

Who is it who is responsible for Human Resources round here?? **disappears under volumes of minutes from previous meetings**

And maybe we need an ambassador of peace to soothe the troubled relations with the Crossed Purposes place.

Blimey ! Everyone is so touchy around here.

I didn't mean to barge in on your meeting, only it was getting damn quiet in that dank hole you call a cellar.
I meant the fireplace with that elecric fire in it which I saw when I came in. The snug you say ? Hmm
"thinks"
"will I get friendlier recepton there ?"
What was your name - pheronome ?? See you around

Friendly? You want friendly? Don't do friendly here mate! There's an asteroid round here somewhere thats not usually as rude as everyone else, but thats your lot really.

The cellar does tend to get a bit dreamy at times. We fear the worst. You should see the saloon! They are all dead in there! And the snug are only just recovering from the kidnapping episode.

So what talents have you to offer? This is the committee room, where we put everyone on committees and look at them. And then we forget.

llWe apart from my awful spelling I am somewhat of a scrounger - in the nicest sense of course!
You want it I'll get it .
For instance the walls could do with brightening up.
My mate Basil could do you some prints - have you heard of "Sketches by Baz "?

You de Boz Tharg. Those crutches you were selling... weren't people supposed to be donating them for the Snug fire? The Cellar only has this little electric hearth thingy but it finally dried me after that soaking you and Zeus created outside last nite. (It at least dampened the enthusiasm of that mob and I think the witch melted.) Yes that was quite a light show.
This being the committee room I was looking to see if anyone knew where the tools were kept. I need a machete as I'm going to try and hack my way through the overgrown terraces and find that lake. There's supposed to be some sort of old greenhouse down there too.

- wanders off wondering if Joyce, Capability Brown and Dickens are not the most unlikely trio - but this time of year any three wise men will do when giving birth to new ideas -

Hmmm - Three wise men and no broom in the Inn !
Tools, Tools, Tools, I'll have a look around.

Did someone shout?

Make that one, two, three....yep still only three wise men.

Hmm I see what about the walls, I met a decorator who gets all his paint from the TB clinic I've just been at, Great Expectoration Decorations he calls himself.

I'd donate my crutch to the various combustible charities, but I'm worried my legs will fall off. Hmmm, was Waco a combustible charity?

Have we got a committee for irrelevant questions?