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

My Dear Commander Red Dog and Members of your Entourage

Allow me to introduce myself, I am Alberta Coleridge (Ms), clerical assistant to Mr Pinniped. Mr Lion absolutely insisted that I should join this expedition to keep an eye on Mr P, who can be a little headstrong, as you may have noticed. I do hope you agree that I am appropriately qualified, being able to cross the Southern Oceans at a speed of 30 words per minute, and having once had a bridge partner who had a brief dalliance with a harbourmaster in the spring of '62, I think it was. Or was he the fish-finger magnate? Still, I digress.

I am sorry to report that the conditions on this vessel are now highly unsuitable and extremely distressing for sea-birds and indeed all other forms of marine life. The stickiness of the Stickyboats is now somewhat secondary. All this is due to Mr P's rather dubious adherence to the principle of navigation by restitution. He has asked me to send you the following report, except that I can't read his flipperwriting.

The Crimson Snark is now a tanker. Atari vermouth (?) Please advise if you smell crude to confirm correct one.

Does this make sense to you? I hope so. We will await your instruction before proceeding up the creek. Although Mr P is having a little difficulty keeping order, I think that the canine part of the crew will prevail over the feline owing to its serendipitous majority of approximately 101.

I close by saying that I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Unfortunately we haven't seen a cement mixer for ages, so I am currently unable to report colour trends/regional variations. If you insist upon seeing my sanity certificate (signed by the Electricity Board) I brought it with me, along with the wardrobe, but I feel sure that a gallant military animal such as yourself would not require me to stoop (or swoop?) to such indignities.

I am quite sure that you don't smell crude really.

Yours oilily,
Alberta Coleridge (Ms)

PS - do sea-birds stoop? Or is that just birds of prey? I knew a gannet once, who was rather good at it, whatever you call it. Nnneeeeyyyyoooowwwww - splat! You know what I mean? Descent from on high, tuck in the wings, head down, that kind of thing. I told Mr P that it was sharp-end-forwards, based on exactly these principles, but would he listen?

STOP PRESS - Mr P fortunately popped in and looked at this note just before I was going to send it. The message should read.

The Crimson Shark is now at anchor at a river mouth, etc.

We were a tanker though, for a brief period yesterday, though...at least after a fashion. But fortunately the vessel of that ilk in which we became embedded broke in half and sank. This is why Mr P wants you to tell us if you can smell the oil, to confirm that this is indeed the correct river mouth. Please don't delay too long, as Mr P is rather pleased with his navigation skills and keeps threatening to light up a self-congratulatory cigar.

Sounds like there's Mutiny brewing in the Ranks of the Crimson Shark, RD. You might send an inspirational message to her crew.

*whisper*We need to get someone in there to widen the river, so he can sail up it. I wouldn't trust his boats or his long-range targeting, Boss. He's liable to attack the wrong snow fort. Can you emagine a crew of cartoon characters swarming over the Dog Snow Fort?
Or, a missile hitting us? I'd prefer it if he had a visual on us before he fired.

Dear Ms Coleridge, like the man from Porlock I feel compelled to interupt your urgent mission with a note of encouragement.

Back here in the rear echelons we are absolutely thrilled that things are going so terribly well given the complete lack of experience and preparation for the voyage made beforehand. We all raise our hats and our glasses to you .... saving that for some inexplicable reason the dashed glasses seemed to be raised slightly more often. Curious that eh. Of all the dashed bad luck I myself appear to be dry at the moment would you believe it. *tisk*. Me Batmans orf for crimbbers so I have to fend for meself at the moment in the mess.

Still, I am personaly delighted that Admiral Pinniped took the trouble to take his *ahem* Clerical Assistant along with him in order to handle all the Clerics that he might encounter en route to the battle ground. Can`t fault a chap for advance planning ..... I believe our colonial cousins across the Atlantic call it `covering all the bases`. Quite.

As for yourself my dear *twirls mustache playfully* you appear to be emminently qualified for the job. Would suggest that the Admiral grant you some rank of course just to keep things ship shape and Bristol fashion what - Ms Midshipman Coleridge has a nice ring to it eh ! We can sought out the red tape on your return from foreign climes as it were

Damnable bad luck by the way on the old wildlife front, still casualties of war and all that. We`ll put everything right when we get a few cat prisoners to put to work - make em use their tongues I say . I know many of the chaps think this trifle controversial, what, but they are our ancient enemy after all and we can`t be accused of going soft and all that. Splendid. Glad that one`s straightened out as well eh ! Making super progress aren`t we.

Have read through the old reporteroonie and am a tad surprised about the tanker thingy. Still as long as it wasn`t one of ours that sank we can sweep the whole jolly mess under the carpet ... at least that`s the drill the chappie from Exxon was telling me the other day. Can`t say that I entirely understand it all but I`m not the man on the spot am I. Still as long as things end well thats the main thing. So you chaps out there keep your peckers up and do let us know from time to time how splendidly things are going.

Just don`t take any Tommy rot from those peskycats OK. Splendid.

Anyway its been nice chatting but here at GHQ we have to dash as Tiffin is due in the next hour or so.

Oh, please pass on my compliments to the Admiral when you see him old bean.

Toodle Pip.

PS - did the Book of Knots come in handy at all ? Splendid !

I love this war... it's so much fun... anyway I'm going to start designs for my new ship and ummm..... where do i build when the designs are done?

oh i forgot to add Admiral sir any problem with the crew let me know..... hehehehehehe i can be very convincing

You've convinced me.

Dear ex-Rambling (and Vulpix)
We feel compelled to airlift the dog-like Pokemon from the Crimson Shark, on account of the serious fire risk.
Can you assist?
Yrs
Alberta Coleridge (Ms)
(Our own Pokemon specialist advises that this would be 1 Growlithe, 1 Arcanine, 1 Houndour and 1 Houndoom. Can't get the hang of the things myself...)

Also, you might want to remove the electrical pokemon, as they can be temperamental and may fry the circuits if angered.
Watch Meowth, they're trouble makers. Persian just lie around usually.
Ex-Rambling laughed at your post and would like it if you dropped them off on her fan club. She might turn the Houndour into a familiar.

SD if you haven`t found it already the ACF Naval Facility is at http://www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/guide/A609004. You can build your ship there, launch it and sail it away on missions by starting a new thread anytime you like.

Red Dog.

::nods:: thanks

My Very Dear Commander Red Dog (et Glitterati)

May I say at the outset how deeply moved I was to receive your thoughtful and uplifting reply to my little billet-doux. It's all too rare in these hectic times to meet someone with charm, erudition and a firm grip on reality. I feel certain that we will both do so someday, and until then your kind sentiments are deeply appreciated.

Are you by any chance related to Les Chiens Rouges, that daring crack unit of the Co-operatif de Fruits et Legumes de Bretonne, who are so valiantly engaged in the resistance to the cynical closure of European M+S stores by "Les Anglaises Perfides"? No, probably not. But if (by happy chance) you should share an association with that most heroic cause, be assured that you are welcome to block a French motorway with a mound of my underwear whenever the need arises.

I must however get to the point of our desperate and immediate predicament. Mr Pinniped has now locked himself in his cabin, and is refusing to come out. This is ostensibly due to his contrition over one of the worst environmental disasters in the history of h2g2. I rather suspect, though, that the real explanation has more to do with fear of being lynched by the crew. Or possibly Mr P is embarrassed about his inability to actuate a simple locking mechanism, and is merely pretending to be in there of his own volition. Whatever the reason, we are a little short in the command department at the time of writing.

Incidentally, it is typical gallant of you to downplay the oil-spill, and to make light of the fact that we are standing in the middle of a slick which extends to the horizon in every direction. You may indeed be right about our ultimate avoidance of corporate sanction, due to Dogs in High Places, I shouldn't wonder. St Bernards, perhaps? There I go again...concentrate, girl, for none of this is apposite to our present circumstances. For the time being, the combustible nature of the environment is playing upon my mind somewhat.

A foray by the last serviceable Stickyboat (now even stickier, blacker and sadly devoid of bees) has convinced me that we are indeed near to the correct river estuary, and hence in proximity to the various Snow-Forts. Although, as has been pointed out, the river is technically quite a bit narrower than the no-longer-so-Crimson Shark, I feel reasonably confident of getting most of the way up it, provided we build up a good head of speed first. The vessel is currently exceptionally well lubricated, of course, which should help.

We do have a slight problem with crew morale, though. I hesitate to use the rather politically-incorrect term of "mutiny" that appeared earlier in this Conversation. I would not like to intimate that well-meaning members of the crew are behaving anti-socially. Suffice to say that the dogs on board (of which there are 152, making some allowances for species indeterminacy. I counted)...as I was saying, the dogs on board have quite democratically expressed a non-preference for serving under Mr Pinniped's command. As a matter of fact, they have asked for political asylum in your Personal Space, and have taken to referring to you as their spiritual leader.

It is of course entirely up to you whether you decide to take charge of slightly more than a gross of anthropomorphised manifestations of a vaguely canine ilk (we have already taken steps to cater for four that are Pokemon). Before deciding, however, I think that you should carefully consider the following facts :
- Most of these creatures are psychotic
- Their departure from the ship would leave the next most populous species in a significant majority. Unfortunately, these would be the cats...

On the subject of the felines, I am sorry to report that Top Cat has now assumed unofficial command of the cat-faction on board, and has occupied one end of the ship. The sharp end, whatever it's called. The dogs are at the blunt end. It strikes me as fairly typical of my limited experience of Dog v Cat stand-offs that the dogs have control of the engine room, the arsenal and the deck-quoits while the cats have noticed the potential of annexing the sleeping quarters and the galley. A small band of disinterested non-mammals, including myself, still occupy the bridge and the communications centre, but I rather fear imminent attack from one side or the other, or possibly both.

To make matters worse, TC (as he rather coarsely refers to himself) has recently delivered an ultimatum. Unless the Crimson Shark is handed over to his command, he will set fire to the oil. I am unable to work out when his deadline will expire, on account of the fact that there are about four different timezones in play here, but I reason that it must be fairly soon, otherwise everyone will get bored with this thread. The only consolation I can offer in this worst-case scenario is that the original Mission target, viz Clipboard's Snow-Fort, will presumably melt, big time. On the downside, it doesn't look good for a significant number of Dog-Assets over a radius of several kilometres, including the C-S and also presumably the Dog House itself.

Being a resolute bird, I have no intention of deserting my post. (I can't actually fly in this condition anyway, and the only means of preening my pinions would seem to be to gain access to the washing-up liquid in the galley, which is of course occupied by several dozen crazed cats). Under these circumstances, I am yours to command, and urgently await your direction. What do you suggest, Sir?

Oh, and have a nice day.

Yours in Mounting Trepidation,
Alberta Coleridge (Ms)

[Cat Clipboard] :

I'd say that might be one of the longest posts I've ever seen, and I'd be totally serious.

With verbal broadsides like that, God help the enemy!!

L (totally in awe!)

[Cat Clipboard] :

I should build myself some kind of battleship. The CR Atmos can swim pretty well, but I tend to electrocute myself in water.

L

Help?! Anyone!!?

Oh dear, it wasn't meant to be either a verbal broadside or a marathon post...I suppose I have rather too much time on my hands, holed up here on the bridge, waiting impotently for imminent disaster, etc...

I suddenly have a nasty feeling that Commander Red Dog is probably preoccupied in an entirely different year (well, more or less) and is unlikely to find any of this nonsense until it's too late.

Any of you got any helpful suggestions?

Happy New Year to all those of you who retain a faint hope of survival.

Oh, woe...

Terminally Yours
Alberta Coleridge (Ms)

:::Onboard the Crimson Shark the teleprinter on the bridge begins to chatter away:::

From ACF Commander Red Dog, ACF GHQ, The Dog House:
To Admiral Pinniped and the gallant officers of ACFS Crimson Shark, somewhere en-route to the Snow Fort:

~Message Reads~

Fear not, stop.
Do not stop, stop.
Reinforcements and experts in Counter-Cat insurgency on way to your last reported position, stop
ACF Chief Petty Officer Dibble will assume command of Dog assets on board until such time as Top Cat has been neutered, stop.
Admiral Pinniped will retain overall command of ACF Forces on board Crimson Shark, stop.
Further communication will follow once NYE festivities have concluded and planned hangover overcome, stop.

~Special Note~

There is an ACF undercover agent in the TC gang recuited by us from Thunderbirds and planted in the gang. The one known as Brains is on our side and can be relied upon by you. Under no circumstances should you compromise his identity unless absolutely necessary. Decision to do so rests with the Admiral. ACF GHQ does not anticipate any other members of the gang to be a threat - Cheech, Benny and Fancy all known to be reliant on the leadership of TC. Chief Petty Officer Dibble has particular expertise to thwart TC and regain control of the vessel, stop.

~message ends~

My Precious Commander Red Dog + Radiant/Resplendent Retinue

Oh, Commander, so much has happened in the last few hours that I scarcely know where to begin.

I'm sorry that events moved rather too fast to assimilate your instructions about Officer Dibble and Brains. Now that you come to mention it, the Officer was twirling his truncheon rather masterfully. I'm afraid I rather overlooked his authority, perhaps because he was preoccupied with a telephone which he insisted had to be attached to the mainmast somewhere. As for Brains, I'm afraid the dogs had difficulty believing his story, and ate him. Not to worry, though, these cartoon animals are remarkably resilient. I've seen them run over by trains, hit by anvils dropped from tower-blocks and generally incinerated, and they always seem to bounce back. I'll keep a look out for Brains and send you the pieces in an envelope when he turns up.

You have presumably noticed that the Crimson Shark, or at least a substantial part of it, is now rather permanently incorporated into the geography adjacent to the Dog House, I had better begin by explaining how it came to be there.

You will recall Top Cat's heinous threat to set light to the oil unless we gave the ship over to him? Well, his patience apparently expired. Quite without warning, he approached the mid-section of the ship, taunting the dogs and wielding a Zippo (alas, these 1960s TV characters do not fully appreciate the perils of a tobacco habit). At the foot of the staircase leading to the bridge, his way was barred by a posse of dogs. There was an animated conversation (well, it would be, wouldn't it?), whereupon the cat recklessly struck a flame.

The whole of the ship's company dived for cover - but, in spite of our worst fears, no explosion occurred. The cats then became frantic, and ignited a whole case of fine cognac, which was wantonly thrown overboard into the slick. They were presumably bent on causing a major conflagration, but the case merely sank, accompanied by an unpleasant fizzling noise. (More than anything else which has occurred on this trip, this disgraceful act convinces me that you are probably right about the fundamental social dysfunction of the cat-kind...)

Back to the nub of this vignette. Perhaps crude oil does not burn so easily after all?

Anyway, the dogs were heartened by this development and were spurred to mount a ferocious attack. The cats retreated without much of a fight, and were last seen making off in the remnants of the Stickyboat fleet, in rather overcrowded conditions. The dogs were now in effective control of the ship, and ousted me from the bridge (I would appreciate it if you would have a quiet word with Dougal, if you don't mind. He was rather uncouth). For reasons best known to themselves, but certainly with tremendous zeal, they proceeded to drive the Crimson Shark at full speed up the channel.

You will recall that we had anticipated a tight squeeze but a safe passage. Unfortunately, we seem to have overestimated the lubricity as well as the flammability of the oil. The Crimson Shark is now lodged between the banks of the river cutting. Now that the tide has receded, you will notice that its keel is entirely clear of the water. I feel sure that this has created an interesting spectacle from your premises, but possibly restricts your daylight somewhat. The chances of moving the ship are somewhat limited by the fact that her propellers and what appears to be her rudder are lodged in a sandbar a couple of hundred metres back upstream.

Except for the slightly inconvenient position of your flagship, and of course the copious amounts of oil around the place, I'd say we've come out of this fairly well. Oh, and the fact that the Snow-Fort is still quite untouched. Maybe you'd like a word with Pinniped now, before he slopes off? In spite of my unswerving loyalty to my employer, I do feel that for once he should be held to account for his outrageous behaviour.

For my own part, I've located the washing-up liquid and I am now setting off back to the Pier. I noted your very kind offer of a Midshipwoman's posting, and I am deeply touched (you knew that already, though, didn't you?) My dearest Commander, please understand that I must regretfully decline. I expect that (as a Caledonian in Western Australia) you will probably be indisposed by the New Year festivities till about mid-February, but do drop in for a and a hand or two of bridge if you're ever down our way thereafter. My current partner is a 13th Century Mongol warlord, and he can be a bit tiring.

Yours affectionately,
Alberta

::sits there listening:: Umm Admiral can i come aboard the crimson to see what it has and to remind the crew who they serve..... please

I didn't mean to complain about your long posts, more to say that I was impressed.