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

I'm in. Rack'em up...

Scrotum... offspring? The mind boggles!

In the good ol'days we would've had them breakin' down the door for a life in service.... and the more menial the better... nowadays good servants, willing to work their fingers to the bone for the chance to steal your socks are very hard to find.

M'man Biffen's gettin' on a bit now too. God knows how i'll replace him when he gouss.

m'batman in the war, dontcha know....

*enters wearing a buttonhole and a flour bomb from the 'Stop Foxhunting in Iraq' protest*

Afternoon.

DeRooftrouser's the name. Associate of Munchers. Drinks all round. Put them on a tab. Don't feel obliged to make it mine.

What?

Just a mo' old chap, we've a game going here old chap.
*Leans down, aims carefully and plays. The cue ball sclaffs off at a swift pace, hits the cushion, flies up in to the air, carooms off of the picture of Her Majesty, rebounds on to the table and trickles to a halt, nudging the red into the bottom pocket*
A point, a palpable point!

Most impressive Munchers - beats your old 15 cushion shot anyday, what !

Trick shots, ehh?

(eyes munchers suspiciously as though he might be German....)

*notices the von Munchhousen tag on Munchers luggage for the first time*

Just likethe old Musketry, must aim off for wind...

(chalks cue, takes careful aim, misses, small tear appears in table.....)

Oh, well. Down the hatch, you chaps.....

(spills drink)

*Quietly sits down on his lugguge to obscure the tag and whistles a Wagnerian air innocently*

*Oh, and nods to deRooftrouser and holds out his glass in the internationally recognised symbol*

What-ho Chaps, smashing morning for popsy ...

Barrington, my man, be a splendid chap and fix us up an Egg Banjo, there's a good fellow ...

Don't know what I'd do without the chap. Doesn't speak a word of English but has a good heart and makes a mean Bloody Mary ... hot enough to blow the whatnots off yer prized Aberdeen Angus.

I say, anyone have a light? Me pipes gorn orf ...

Gad! The symbol of the Rumpanjet Thugee branch!

*Dives behind the sofa*

*Waits to see if anybody gets a round in while he's down there*

*Gets up, dusts self down, orders apéritifs all round*

Very good of you, wot. I could have sworn I had a man called Barrington at one point ... or was that the house ... yes, now I come to think of it the chap was called Hillhead. Wonder whatever happened to him?

I seem to remember the dogs tore him apart when a gentle Sunday afternoon paper chase got slightly out of hand. Though we did manage to beat the club best time so that was okay.

Possibly a little unsporting to release the hounds while he was still tearing up the newspaper on the drive, but all's fair in love and war, what!

In the old days, when we were done with a servant, we used to stake 'em out in a jungle clearing, as bait for Tiger.

Of course, the intention was to shoot the bally thing before it got m'punkah-wallah, but it didn't always work out like that......

Rather depends how far down m'third hip-flask I'd got before Shere Khan showed himself....

*His Dress Sense firmly at odd with his name The Raggedy Man Enters the Club*

"Scabbers You old Fruit, Triffid said I might find you here."

*Placing a monocle to his eye he peers miopicly around*

"Jolly good, A chap could get quite a thirst in a place like this."

*Turning to Scarab* "Escaping the M'sahib Old Boy?"

*Lifts his glass and quietly murmers* "Hillhead, never was very quick about the place"
Now then, whose round is it? I'm still expecting something for that billiard shot you know. Now who was it I was playing again?
*Blearily looks round for someone with a billiard cue*

Aren't we all ... wouldn't want the good lady to meet the popsy ... think of the consequences ...

The Home ground has a luxurient wicket but a slightly soggy outfield but copes admirably under all conditions.

The popsy has a fast outfield and devilish hard batting wicket but needs tender nurturing to ensure the best ... easy for ones balls to be knocked out of shape which is sure to put paid to any intentions of playing on the home ground ... 'specially if the home groundsman catches you playing away.

My shot Munchers, pass the chalk...

Gentlemen, this is Raggers. We were at Spion Kop together....

Please to meet you chaps

Ah yes some jolly yarns to tell about those days

My Googly has never quite recovered from that encounter with those trained Albanian battle stoats.

Doesn't effect my drinking though. What.