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

(High above the Welsh countryside the personal concorde of the meglomaniac Doctor Clawfinger. In the library room of the jet Lord Mike is sifting through books and files. He finds a journal and begins flicking through it)

Lord Mike (reading out loud): Dear Diary, I feel that I'm loosing Gerald's respect. He views me as an object he can use

(Clawfinger suddenly appears from behind a bookcase)

Clawfinger: Thank you for saying that your Lordship, it is now on tape and I can broadcast it to the world! You are finished!

Lord Mike: Finished? But what about if I were to do this?

(He pulls a face and Clawfinger recoils)

Clawfinger: Ah! I hate that face

(Lord Mike pulls the face again, whilst the megalomaniac recoils his Lordship leaps forwards and grabs the tape recorder)

Clawfinger: Give that back!

Lord Mike: Never!

(Lord mike hits a button and a door in the wall flies open. Clawfinger is sucked out and his Lordship throws the tape after him)

Lord Mike: Bet he's feeling a bit crabby

Audience: Groan

Lord Mike: Time for me to exit, stage left

(Lord Mike leaps through the door and falls through the air. Once he reaches a certain altitude he pulls a rip-cord and a parachute unfurls, the Welsh flag is patterned on it)

(Cue theme music)

A butler enters the dining room, carrying a tray, on which is a letter and a piece of paper. He offers it to Steven, who attempt to butter the letter and take and bite, but gives up. Mike snatches it away and opens it. In the corner, Lance sits quietly reading "Jack and Jill: The true story they didn't want you to know".

Mike opens the letter with a cerimonial sword that he grabs from somwhere and quickly scans through it.

"Good grief!" he gasps, "do you know what this letter says?"

"No,"

"Me neither, it's all written in a foreign langauge." Lance and Steve hurry across to peer at the letter too. There is a long pause.

"You know," says Lance after several seconds, "he's right,"

"Of course, I'm right."

Then, for no immediately discernable reason a skull comes flying throught he window, breaking it in the process, and lands on the carpet, empty eye sockets staring at them.

"If I'm not mistaken," Mike says softly, "we're about to take part in an adventure in a similar but not identical vein to 'Albino Royale'."

"Was that the one with the oil fields?" Steven asks.

"No, that was the one with the taxi driver."

They all gasp.

Cabbie (sighs - I told you so!): I dunno if I can go through wiv it! I mean, it's not like 'is past reputation gives me the benefit of the doubt or nuffink.

Taxi Cab (lights flare as it speaks): You must. We must. He must.

Cabbie: Wot?

Taxi Cab (sighs - Didn't tell you about that one): You must capture him. We must torture him. He must answer our questions.

Cabbie: Why?

Taxi Cab: That is not of your concern.



Man: Oi, you finished fer the night?

Cabbie: Yeah yeah Bert. Keep yer wig on.

Bert: You're not suppose ta know about that!



Taxi Cab: Soon, Steven Ford, soon. And this time I won't let Lord Mike keep you away from me!



Lord Mike: Well kids, did you learn anything from that scene cutaway?

Lord Mike: Well I did

Steven: Really?

Sir Lance: Sure, these adventures are full of educational goodness.

Steven: So what was it you learnt?

Lord Mike: That Bert wears a wig



Steven: But this is terrible!

Lord Mike: Acting? Yes...



Lord Mike: That's a nasty cough you've got there Lance!

Sir Lance: I was indicating

Lord Mike: What? Oh yes! To the Mills-Cab!

What has happened before:

Lance has developed a cough. A BAD one. Hurridly, Mike, Steve, Lance and Nibbles jump into the Mills-Cab to get some Beechams.

Meanwhile, the plot thickens, and our two intrepid heros (nibbles and Mike), Lance and Steven have discovered that some guy called Bert wears a wig.

Steven: You know, I have a lot of bad memories of cabs.

Lance: Ahem.

Mike takes the wheel, as usual, and the Mills-Cab pulls out of Mills-Hall.

Just then something very interesting happens.

Lord Mike: I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

General Ford: Nope. We're in the United Kingdom.

Lord Mike: Oh no we're not. Not unless the United Kingdom has suddenly got a lot more ... sand-like.

Sir Lance: And what are those large things, hopping about like Kangaroos?

General Ford: They're Kangaroos.

Sir Lance: In the UK? Are you joking, or something, or what?

General Ford: I don't think we're in South Ham anymore.

Lord Mike: We weren't anyway.

Sir Lance: Just one thing left to say now, I think.

Lord Mike: What?

Sir Lance (grins): I think we've been down this road before.



Nibbles: Eep!

<Unfortunately as Lord Mike had to take his hands off of the wheel the Mills-Cab swerves off of the road and crashes into giant kawala)

Lord Mike: Remember, always drive safely



Lord Mike: What's the matter?

Steven: Well, we're all busy looking at that wopping great kawala that we've just crashed into



Lord Mike: When I say run, run

Lord Mike: Run everybody! It's a giant Kawala!

Sir Lance: I think you mean "Koala" old chap.

Lord Mike (hits Lance): No silly! A Koala is a Koala. A 'Giant Koala' is called a 'Kawala'!

Sir Lance: Really?

Lord Mike: Of course! Isn't it Steven?

General Ford: I always thought it was called a Koolalla.

Lord Mike: Bless you.

General Ford: I'm blessed?

Brian Blessed (walks into scene, waves arms dramatically): NO, SMALL FOOLISH CREATURE OF FICTIONAL BEARING! IT IS I WHO IS BLESSED!!!

Lord Mike: What's he doing here?

Lord Mike: Right well Brian attacks the Kawala I think we should make a discreet exit

Steven: I thought it was Bryan



Nibbles: Eep!

Lord Mike: Quite brave Nibbles, now onwards!

Mike: Bar keep, tell me where we are?

Bartender: You're in me taven.

Steven: Blistering Blowfish, he's right!

Mike: Where's your pub?

Bartender: You should know, you're in it.

Lance: I'm afraid he's got you there, your Mikeness.

Mike: We're lost, you see.

Bartender: No you're not, you're in my pub.

Steven: You know, talking to you is the conversational equivilent of banging your head against a brick wall.

Bartender: Very nice of you to say that sir. What'll it be?

Steven: Three milkshakes... make them doubles.

Bartender: Coming right up sir.

(But, as the bartender turned away, shadows fell across his face, and he began chuckling. This wasn't the sort of chuckling of someone who is being tickles by scantily dressed nymphs, nor was it the chuckling of someone who has heard an amusing anicdote. This was the chuckling of someone who was just about to put PASTURAISED STANDARDISED HOMONOGNISED MILK into Lord Mike's milkshake...)





NEXT WEEK IN "TIME AND THE BARNEY":





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