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

Ice cubes in good whiskey...just wot the witchdoctor ordered! Fire and ice...!

*grumbles under the Times*

I see the Frenchies and the Hun are up to no good on the Continent again. I think our chaps that are batting at the moment simply aren't up to the job and the you-sleep or you-forty-winks or you-have-a-nap or you-need-a-kip Johnnies should be given an outing. I predict shades of Neville Chamberlain waiving his piece of white paper and claiming peace in our time again.

*harrumphs mightily and dreams of Winnie*

*Wah, huh, cough, cough, cough*

Did you just speak dear old chap?

Merely railing Dellers. My gander is up tho' ... so I may break with tradition and write to my MP instead of the Editor of the Times

*remembers he's an MP*

*Grumble, snore, dreams of Winnie The Pooh editing the Times*

Oh I see! That s'plains why you're talkin' to yourself, old chap, and there I thought you were wanderin'. Take a peg!

*reading the Sunday Times with increasing anger*

Stuff and nonsense !

I see our boys went down to the blasted Frogs at Association Football and to the bally Kiwi's at Rugger.

The whole world is turned upside down.

I may consider retirement !

*remembers he's retired*

*snort*

But by Jove, we gave those Neutrals a hammering

*snort*

Bally Daily Mail readers to a man....Ukip if you want to I said. Bally middle classes,no sense of humour what..

Well I'll be darned if everybody hasn't dropped off to sleep again. Wonder what it takes to keep the place awake, more than the sound of silent crumbling of an empire. A joint invasion by Huns and Goths might do it, or failing that a chorus line of mud wrestlers, or a misprint in The Times.

A missprint in the Times!!
Disgraceful!

Preposterous ! I may have to write to the Edtior again !

*wakes up from a doze*
Miss Print? I remember her well. Lovely boobs..err..personalities! And could she make a great exit? What a rear end...!
Married a stockbroker from the Continent as I recall, had two kids then HE ran off with a young forex trader chappie to the Americas. Last I heard she lived in a little villa along the 'Sol with a football fellow who rides a Hardly Mavis+Son motorcycle. Lovely personalities...!
*drifts off into fantasy again...*

*PAAAAAAARP*

Ekkers my friend is that you by the bally old bar? Heigh ho suppose I could have a little G and T..havent seen the woodward chappy have you?I'm in the position to put a little bit of work his way now that hes retiring from the old rugger game,what.

Eh wot? Did anyone say anythin'? Did I dream it or was somebody mentionin' drinks?

Good God! What is that frightful smell ... was wandering the Elysian dreamscape that a particularly fine claret had laid on for me, when was woken by a stench spawned from the more unhygeinic quarters of Satan's lair ...

And some bounder appears to have scuttled me tweeds ... in the seat too, and with my batman off on his jollies in Berwick or somewhere ... he has an aged mother, don't you know. Then again, don't they all ...

Delicia, old thing, a drink would be spiffing ... same as usual old girl ... don't ask what that might be ... been kipping so dashed long that I can't bally well remember what my usual is.

I remember that it's wet, cold and invigorating but isn't a labradors tongue ...

May we ne'er lack a bottle or a friend to offer it to. I perceive that my stash of Glen Wobble, the genuine stuff NOT the fake fabricated by certain criminal elements in the garden shed from compost...isn still intact, more or less, if you discount the inroads made by Wrinklers, who seems to have passed out behind my armchair by the fire, which with rare precaution I refrained from moving in spring, and now winter's coming round again...I beg pardon old man, my mind wanders so ... here you are.

No! No matron, not the week old liver poultice!

*snort*

mmmmmm...manumanumanumanummmmm

"PARTRIDGE!"

mnnnnnnnnnmmmmm