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

Seven years ago today since Viv took the outro. Hell's Turban and Tutu, do I need a dare of the hog.

And as such I guessed as much from your splendid series or serries of footnotes.

The serried series. My hard man Shanahan.

Are you an existanshalliste?

http://www.ripe-fruit.co.uk/

and go for "great bloke" when you get there ... if you get there ....

Burpage and botty wind,

Andrew

'I've found the men sir... god I wish I hadn't.' But I couldn't find where to vote for great bloke, though I tried, god knows I tried. Best of luck with the play: I mean to write a novel like that one day soon.

Where have I seen you oh Andrew Wyld? You've slipped through a thread (easier than for a thread to pass through the eye of a camel, except for the one which I've just had delivered, but that's a thread of a different colour) which I too have been a part of, but I'm blarmed if I can find the damn thing.

And here you are again asking about Viv. Yes, yes, oh my kidney, yes and how.

I have passed through a thread in which nights of perfumed pleasure were to be had with your camel for jars of Vaseline and champion thrusts.

I have also passed through the fires of humiliation. In particular one night many years ago stands livid in my memory, its insensate brutality and brute incense so pungent an unguent upon the sores of the minds of those who witnessed it as to cleanse them of all fear, for there they saw the very depths of shame to which a man can fall, and in seeing, knew themselves safe. I fell to the floor in an electric cacaphony of embarrassment. We never talk about it now. But it gave me a few good clauses wherewith to scratch my itcheses. O glorious Devon, dost thou lie so still?

Oh yes, we all remember that; jolly amusing it was too, though Mrs Cadogan has never been the same since.

However, I tracked down the thread I was thinking of: 'twas the RSVP thread for the weekend's shenanigans. Surely you can't be tempted to shenan again after the fiery humiliation so described?

If so, perhaps you can be induced to stand me a Southampton Red Rum... or just stand near one: dangerous beasts. Made one once and tried it out on my nephew. He took a sip and his eyes lit up. 'Woah mama!' he said, then died instantly, in horrible agony.

Shenan, or more properly Shanahan, is one of my finest creations. Of course he was initially a creation of Dermot Trellis, who in turn was a creation of the first person singular, who was in turn fictitious and the creation of Brian O'Nuallain of Erin, yea, Myles na Gopaleen of Cruiskeen Lawn, fair Flann O'Brien who purifies the cuttings, truly, of bold Brian O'Nolan. But I created him too, just as Pierre Menard also wrote Don Quixote.

So no embarrassment or shame can prevent my shenanity.

The Southampton Red Rum I will stand you in return for the finest stout of which the pub will admit. I shall arrive looking like 1971, in great pomp and my carriage superbly displayed to all the nice ladies, bearing a beautiful self-designed name badge.

You like art? I think so.

http://www.ripe-fruit.co.uk/blondists.html

It's annoying when that happens: I once wrote out the entire works of Wilkie Collins only to find that Charles Dickens had beaten me to it.

I fear the finest stout the pub will have to offer will be Guinness, which isn't stout at all, but you might be in luck.

I like art but I don't like name badges: mine shall be a mean and tawdry affair.

Guinness is, indeed, rather slender fare, but will do me well the way I can become intoxicated.

Name badges are merely a formal diffculty, and in any case, recognition will be difficult of obtaining without them. Meanness in you I would not have expected.

Blondism is, of course, now almost entirely dead.

When it comes to name badges I'm mean, by god I'm mean. Mean!? Yes. At the previous meet I found myself mid-introduction: I'm spimcoot. The other person would say, quite naturally, I'm... and then tail off while they groped embarrassingly at their nipple, or whichever nefarious place they'd put their badge, as if they'd forgotten who they were without it. And I notice that you're not a user of the great graphic dunno, to wit: the smiley. Nevertheless, it is sort of a hobby of mine to take on so about perfectly harmless things that other people seem to enjoy, so I'd ignore me... maybe I *am* mean after all. What a liberating thought.

The smiley, it has a place in my conversation:





Asexual Reproduction!

Just like the time I made love to a photocopier. I was black and blue, she was black and white, so we looked up and stared at the sky above us and dreamed ...

... God I ache for a lady.

That's a novel and kindly service, does it pay well? I once lost weight for a retired Brigadier but, as I was so much slimmer than him to start with, I looked ghastly by the time I'd finished.

It pays but poorly, as does losing weight transitively, I shouldn't wonder.

http://www.geocities.com/datalemming/cartoons/html/gustywinds.htm

It is a sign of the times.

requirements for new punctuation #

! exclamation point
? question point
[.] conversation point