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

*cap in hand, a shambolic and slightly whiffy figure enters the Club dropping detrius on the carpet as he goes*

Oi be Hog the gardiner sorrs and misses and it's moi job ter keep the riff raff out and cull the gypo's so's that they don't overrun the golf course agin. It as cum ter moi attentshun that yers moight be thinking o' employifying anuther gardiner. I woz wundrin whether yez ad any dissatisfactionication with moi tending o' the grounds.

*wipes nose on sleeve*

And who may you be, my man? Never seen you round the premises. Wait, I have, only I thought it was the compost heap, and that it looked a right mess. As for your job, if you were doing it, which you aren't, which is just as well seeing that there is Geneva convention on the mistreatment of plants, or anyway there should be, if Geneva ever got round to it, which they don't anything much these days, nobody's taking that away from you, as we're hiring for the tending of tenderer plants, if you get my meaning, which you probably don't and the chaps must think I'm drunk for talking to the damn compost heap.

Oi av bin ere a long toime Miss Sir but Mr Redders as' insisted that oi keep away fer the Club on account o' my err .....

*wracks memory for the precise words*

..... appalling odour and 'abit o' leaving a trail o' unmentionable shite all oer Mr Redders good carpets and if oi know what's gud fer me oi'll never darken the doors o' this 'allowed establismnet ever agin .....

Anyway it wuz sommat loike thart.

As fer moi plants, with respect they'd be in better shape if Mr Ekkers wud stop parking 'is sports car jobby on the herbaceous borders and if Mr Munchers would stop trying to smoke those specimins 'e brought back from the far east last year.

Don`t worry Fred, you just keep tendin` what you tend,(and of course, the other little "jobs" you do from time to time) and pay no heed to these newer people.
Take too damn much on themselves, I would`ve said...Haarrruuuuumph!!

"Tenderer" plants is it??...More like old boots, Har Har Har

Old boots is what a certain part of a certain travelling salesman in liqors' anatomy is connectin' with. *BOOT* Har har! Give the man space now!

Now now Fred, those specimens of mine just need a little work, wot. I just need to experiment on the drying technique a bit.

There's nothing better than a little pipe-weed to make the world a better place, I've always said.

Drying techinique? In this weather!

Oh, stop being a bunch of Wet's!
Have another and a cigar - the Cubans don't have drying technique problems...

No they don't but I'm will to wager that President Clinton did old boy

*falls out of chair guffawing*

I smoke a pipe my self(looks utterly bewildered and continues sotto voce) Why did I say that..now they are sure to rumble me And I'll have to leave and go to some other club where they don't have any Glen Wobble.....

Cheer up dear old mangelwurzel, smokin' pipe is perfectly pukkah an' while I have Glen Wobble you have Glen Wobble, as I had the honour and pleasure of sayin' before, may we ne'er lack a friend nor a bottle to giver her, particlarly when she show such discerning taste in the choice of her tipple.

Of course, I could always send one of the gardeners with a bottle of the Glen Wobble to the other club, long as you remember to send him back.

AN OTHER CLUB !

I was under the bally impression that there was only one real Club ! To call any other establishment a Club in the same breath as this hallowed institution demands satisfaction in the traditional fashion Lowers!

Who'll be your second !

That`s supposin` there`s been a first...Haw Haw Haw

Of course there is only one Club in the proper sense of the word. that's selfunderstood dear old thing, no need to blow yer gasket over it. Any other other club will be called that only in the widest sense of the worde, and therefore written in miniscules, so don't burst an artery, most unhealthy. How about a third, what? >stiffdrink>

I remember a threesome I had in Damascus with those twins with the thick black hair down to their waists...what a pair...what a pair of pairs!



Or was it in Burma? Malta? Naples...?

*succumbs to a sudden bout of Altzheimers*

I say, where are we? Have we beaten the Boche yet..?
I need a

*consoles himself with a *

Not all bad news Alzheimers old boy. You get to hide your own easter eggs, you meet new and interesting people every day and you get to hide your own easter eggs.

Now what was I bally drinking .... errrr

And you get to be extremely rude to anybody you fancy,of course.And get away with it!!! Isay Redders one simply can't tell the gardener to keep away from the Clubhouse..none of the gardening is getting done. They are inclined to take one literally you know..its part of curriculum in state schools thses adays apparently.

Well I say Lowers. I mean have you any real idea about Hogg - the chaps a walking plague you know.

I will grant you that the hanging baskets are a disgrace and the verges look more like a jungle but on the plus side all the smelly stuff is banished in the direction of the potting shed and the compost heap.

between us girls I do rather think that Hogg prefers to sleep in the heap rather than in the shed

In the interests of club harmony I'm happy to concede a compromise. Let us adjourn to the potting shed and check out what the bounder is up to if he's dutifully engaged then I'll allow him back. If he's slacking then he stays out of bounds.

Well chaps, the plans a blinder. Best thing I`ve seen since the relief of Mafeking. And all conceived without the slightest drop of the old grog. What say you ?

Pass the port !

Pip Pip !