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

-a telephone rings somewhere off-

So if it's 6am in mean old greenwitch time where can they be calling from? Can't be any of my people in Nova Scotia, it would be 2am there and there's church in the morning.

*looks out window*

Yep you're right, there's a church there and it's morning.

Pat Robertson goes to church.

*looks out again*

Yep, and this is a dark land.

*The door opens and a slightly insane looking female face peers round and in at the punters*

Hello chaps! Is this the old fogies division?

*Raises her walking stick, aims it at the church tower and takes out the ringing bells with a blast of bullets*

There! That's better! I hate Sunday mornings, don't you? I've just dropped by on my way home from the Crossed Porpoises with my three dogs. They're quite harmless although Spike enjoys making amorous advances to men's legs for some reason...

*At the mention of his name, Spike slips his collar, bounds into the pub and flattens Wumbeevil on the floor and starts to lick his face enthusiastically*

Spike! Heel! Bad lad! Sorry about that...Just be grateful that it's your face he's licking!

*Grabs Spike*

Well, I have to go now. Catch you later chaps. Toodleloo!

Mein gott eine femalenperson und she ist only der slightly insanen? Must be ein transvestitentypepersonnen.

(Ed. better be nice Wumbeevbil, she has a walking stick and knows how to use it)

Welcome to the old fogies Gwennie. First things first, the toilets are over there. *vaguely waves towards a suspicious trail on the floor*

There's a bit of rivalry between two camps here tho, you'll have to decide whether you're presenile dementia or senile dementia quickly. It doesn't resally matter tho, none of us can remember which we are.

I'd heard those rumours about Spike Milligan myself, but never wanted to believe them. Ugh I'm not too bothered about him licking my face, it's what he was licking before that bothers me....

...I can't do it! (copyright Glasgow Empire 1903)

Oh, I reckon that "somewhere in between" would suit me. Just label me as insane, embittered, cynical and slightly vindictive which shouldn't leave much to the imagination. Alternatively, just think of a feminine version of our dearly departed Victor Meldrew.

You might want to use the "facilities" that you so kindly pointed out to me when I tell you just exactly what Spike has been licking...

*Cackles maniacally*

One of my bitches, Kim is in season at the moment and in spite of Spike being neutered (poor lad), he's desperately trying to oblige her...

*Sits down and chuckles as Wumbeevil dashes for the toilets whilst wiping his face with a bar towel*

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My what an interesting link you gave me there! I don't suppose I'd regret asking how on Earth you stumbled upon it or if you've "sampled" any of the products listed therein?

*Thinks that Wumbeevil's stomach is looking rather distended and gives it an experimental prod with her walking stick*

Do you think it was a good idea to consume all that quick setting cement?

*Rummages around in her bag*

Here. Have some of my liquid Senna. It looks as though you're in need of it.

Well to be perfectly honest I did consider getting the bull implants (no comments please) to impress the girlies (well the ones that believe Desmond Morris anyway), but I wouldn't have been able to wear my little mini-kilt without getting arrested...and the thought of anyone reliving their childhood by playing with klackers just brought me out in a cold sweat.

The customer comments were great, I just hope you get the right size for Spike or he'll have poodles laughing at him. Err how did I find the site? Would you believe I was looking for a present for someone?

Hi Ayrton, howsitgaun? Haven't senna lot of you lately. What's that? You crashed out somewhere and can't remember a thing after that? Well apparently this nice lady took you home and let you sleep it off in her liquidiser. Then one morning-after, she staggered down to make an egg nog and well.......Oh stop blubbing and pull yourself together. Are you a man or a mush?

Nope! I wouldn't believe you were looking for a present for "someone"!!

*Looks round to see a large sports car parked in the middle of the pub*

I know the bottle says that it's rapid, but...

*Decides that she's seeing ghosts and her time must be up*

THUD!

*Passes out on the floor*

*looks up from behind newspaper*

Oh hello folks - sorry - just got engrossed in this article on the public toilets of Torridon.It's quite short so I will leave it there if anyones interested.
Lil didn't stop long - probably her asteroids playing up.!

Don't you think that seeing it's a sunday there should be cheesy snacks and things on the bar? Saves cooking the lunch.

*goes back to newspaper to read article on the new phenomena of
vehicular manifestation*

I'll give you asteroids, you half-blind git. I just nipped out to count a few ballots.

Comestibles. Well, they've got the ploughman's lunch, 3 coloured rocks disguised as a tomato and cheese and a roll ... and Pheroneus's specialty, tuna pagodas, those are sandwiches with the edges all curled up. Salted peanuts, we've got those.

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*looks up after reading article on how to make friends and influence people*

Well we could order a gross and hang them from the Christmas Tree !

Cheesey dip anyone ?

A tree...oh boy at tree !

Yes a tree - as opposed to a festive dog toilet.

If that mutt goes anywhere near it will soon be wanting neuticles !
do you think the ones they put in show dogs are prettier and are called cuticles ?

Oh no! Gwennie's dog has "Spiked" my drink! But I really shouldn't be drinking this early on a Sunday morning (it depends on where you are I guess) so I think I'll have a stroll round the village. There's an interesting looking structure just over the road at No.42 if I can get out of here without that witch from No. 27 taking her broom to me.

C'mon Spike, let's go walkies.

I'm getting very confused. Please can we have a bit of decorum, a touch of control, a flavour of regulation, a passing odour or order.

Hey, is that a new door just appeared in the wall.

**opens door. confronted by staircase. Gingerly ascends, only to find..**

**..an apparently endless corridor, doors on each side, each with a plaque**

Look to your left, good people, investigate and destroy.

*Always one to be guided by management decisions Tharg moves forward.
He studies the first plaque also looking out for any large white rabbits or bottles marked "Drink Me !"

"Hmm -it would seem to be a memorial to someone called Terry Pratchett and says "Satire was murdered here" Whats the next one say ?

*thus provoking further discussion on at least two layers and gains brownie points from the gods*

**stumbles over body of satyr, presumably murdered by pennypinching tharg thing**

A literary allusions sub-committee may be required shortly, and the ghost of James Joyce maybe be lured from the cellar to run it, backwards.