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

message garbled Redders, say again, over

.... skrrrrrrrkkkk .... banters a bit orf today Ekkers and bally radio is a bit rreeeoowwww .... can confirm huge wobble boxes are in sight repeat large wobble boxes are .... whheeeroowwww ..... bugger, damn and blas ..... for gods sake Legers can't you ...... rrrrrrkkkkkkk ...... over.

Receiving loud and clear, Red Leader ... Gypo's at 4 o'clock, Blue Leader going to scare the willies out of them ... returning to angels 2 upon interception ... over

*hears Ekkers report*

Receiving Gypo's at 4 o'clock rception

*wonders why Ekkers is entertaining them and what the ettiquette would be*

*kicks radio*

You'll be wanting some Epsom salts, Red Leader ...

*retrieves radio and fiddles with a few dials*

Red Leader to Bandit One - am heading due east directly over Tunbridge wells High Street. Can confirm multiple Renault and Citroen targets. Am engaging now. Wish us luck. Tally Ho and over.

*the distinctive sound of a Vickers machine Gun intersperced with the occasional bark of a Webley can be heard over the ether*

*With a confused look on his face, for he was disturbed at the moment of pouring himself a MacLurcher, jumps out and starts genltemenlike fall with accelerating speed of 9.3km/hour*
I think I spot some Frenchies somewhat to the left, over----------Could some one shoot them please, over------ccrrkkssshhhh----HOLY BLOODY HELL, I dropped Mac Lurcher-----going after it

*looks at parachute rack*

Legers, I do rather think the traditional method of doing it with a brolly requires no embellishment nor innovation. Remember WHEN YOU HIT THE GROUND ROLL WITH YOUR SHOULDER !

Bloody frenchies and gypsyies. I do believe that I felt something missing when I was jumping over. I do have another few minutes for something to happen
*takes up a sitting position and starts sipping on recently caught bottle of Mac Lurcher*
I see that Frenchie. Red, would you be so kind to throw me my trusty Webley please!!!

*borne out of years of experience playing as wicket keeper for the Duke of Redfords select XI, Redders hurls the trusty Webley with unfailing accuracy towards the falling Legers*

Thank you Red. I can't even imagine what the club would have don with out you.
*with a quick move of his hand shoots the Frenchie. Than using backfire and firing towards the ground, slows himself down. At the last 50 meters lets himself drop into the pool located conviniently beneath*
I believe I have a severe broken arm here, what

Splendid sport all round ... pity about the broken arm Legers, old man, nothing a stiff drink and perhaps a little TLC from the Vicars daughter shouldn't put right I'd be sure ... if anyone can, Popsy can ... I feel an advertising slogan coming on.

Vicar's daughter you say...
That will be the next place I'll head to0. All I have to figure is what to do with the Gypsy there

Redder, old crumb, we've simply got to attract more gels into the parlour.

Before you land that confounded contraption, do be sure to induct a few, eh?

The time I've spent with the old gels is lovely but ... you get my meaning, don't you, old boy?

Come now, let's get on with it! The important things in life and that sort of thing, what?

I agree sir, dear Red should make a few stops and hich us a few ladies. However, since it is not about serious breedin' we are talking here about, what if he brings some gal from Spain or Italy perhaps?

Chaps I do think you've rather fallen for the lure of the upturned petticoat and the flash of a pretty ankle. I urge you in the strongest possible terms to turn back from that dark path and return to the light.

The Frenchies are an ancient menace and must be kept in place by a regular cull. Civilisation as we know it will end if the Garlic Menace penetrates this hallowed, greeen jewelled and sceptred isle. We are threatened Chaps, threatened I say.

*a mad look flashes into Redders eyes*

On On with the hunt my brave fellows !!

*the engines roar into life and the Zeppelin banks towards Calais*

Redders old boy, you see - and I confess this to you privately and with the greatest degree of confidentiality - it is not quite as you've made it out to be.

You see, as I am made a Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter and a born blue blood, I am perforce exposed to certain quite discrete and extraordinary matters and am wont, willy nilly, to have such exposed to me, perhaps - one might opine, too often, by the fairer of the species.

So, it is with knowledge that I speak of what I do, dear Chap. Now, do be a good 'un and don't tarry for too long, what?

*the distant rattle of Vickers machine gun fire can be heard together with the odd "crump" of a heavy munition going off and the roar of 24 cylinder Armstrong-Witworth rotary engines going at full pitch.*

With you momentarily, old chap ... Hurri was needing refuelling, etc ... just time for a roll in the hay and a cup of Darjeeling but never fear, I'll be up the blue end before you can say "I thought Fritz was a make of sausage until I discovered McLurchers" ...

Tally ho, what what ...

oh all right, very well, then!!

*jumps into his Spitfire and roars up into the sky in half a mo*

Tally ho Chaps!