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

And will we ever reach an end?
"No, no, lad, don't be frightened!"
Our wills we bend, we must commend
This enterprise enlightened

With turns and twists, and lovers' trysts
This tale moves on combining;
While truth insists, our world consists
Of *stories* intertwining

(Oh fartch! This is another post
Of philosophic cop-out;
I'm always haunted by the ghost
Of pass-the-parcel drop-out)

Then Dandy noticed Gangly Blay
Embroidering his trews
And sketching an arcane design
In cheerful reds and blews.

"What is this magic symbol made
Of stripes and stars like candy?"
"Oh that's," said Blay, who drewl away,
"A yankey doodle, Dandy!"

"What does it mean, it's lurid sheen
Must harness awesome powers?"
"Well, yeah, maybe. Now let me see,
I fink I'll add some flowers."

But Eagle snicked his beak and clicked
His claws, "We should be going.
We can't wait here till end of year
And winterly starts snowing."

Then seizing Dandy by the hair
He flew directly uppa
Thermal vent, while Blay, intent
On couture, made a cuppa.

He gazed up at the flying flesh
Of Dandy fast receeding
And said, "Oh wow, I wonder how
I'll draw that? What I'm needing

Is another spool of a colour cool
And maybe, edged in beading,
An eagle with the stars and stripes,
Ow sod, me finger's bleeding."

But Dandy squawked and crossly talked
"You nearly broke my neck! Past
Minding manners, you just might
Have let me finish breakfast."

But Eagle knew, his bones spoke true,
That if they went to Glurry
They'd soon be lost for daze and tost
About in a rain-soaked slurry,

Their Quest forgot amidst music hot,
And their minds would go all blurry,
Seduced by bubbling Scrumpees who
Would make their tongues feel furry.

Recumbentman your bicycle hid neatly 'neath the bonnet
I cant be sure or certain that there's anybody on it
I used to have one like it but exactly not the same
But met a man in a Transit van who redesigned the frame

But that's all in the past you see I think of it no more
In fact I think of little else other than Grimley Moer
I tried to write a rimickle but didn't have the knack
I moved the lines about but accidentally put them back

Anything I did write came out filled with dandy robins
Now and then my fnarking pen would write a load of bobbins
So off I went to Grimley seeking out some inspiration
But what I found instilled in me the deepest desperation

The Grimley village hall will never be the same no more
(Though some would say it hasn't been since nineteen fifty-four)
Since Colin caused a stir that night by making his confession
And told the world about his secret underwear obsession

He's happy now he's got into Miss Lily Loofah's knickers
But Grimley's still affected by a curse on all its vicars
But there's a hope ( no, not the pope) some cheer to give the people
I hear some Dandy's on his way with plans to gild the steeple

He set off many moons ago to find a stash of gold
And had adventures on the way, at least that's what we're told
I think maybe on looking back there was no Florgel Flea
He didn't slay no beast he overdosed on LSD

But then again perhaps I'm wrong, that happens all the time
And history is altered for the sake of further rhyme
All the same that wont explain why Grimley's gotten dark
Or why the style's become more like 'The Hunting of the Snark'

Beneath the cold and concrete slabs of Grimley Pollis station
Lives a long forgotten beast, a vile abomination
In days gone by , I'm not sure why 'twas locked in there for good
It might have been for taking Grimleys children for its food

Partly cow and partly sow and partly politician
Long before it turned to crime it was an electrician
It used to pilfer cables from its boss when times were hard
And sell them down The Tickled Trout for fifty pence a yard

But anyway that's not to say it matters to this tale
Except that this forgotten beast has tunnelled from its' gaol
Through all the tunnelling years The Tickled Trout's where it was heading
Except through being crap with maps he's surfaced now in Reading

Now Reading's not the sort of place where beasts are left to fnurtle
Apart from late at night sometimes outside the Purple Turtle
Where those who narkle poemly but fail to find a rhyme for it
Invent words of their own as if there wasn't any crime in it

And those who've lost the plot are wondering what Chaiwallah did with it
And those who say there is no plot say "shut up and get on with it"
And some who've had too much to drink and thought they'd got away with it
Then notice that the last six lines had all ended with it in it

Within this screed we have agreed
The style is ballad form,
As editor, Ed must request
That you observe the norm
(As Norm would say, if Norm were asked
Or left his dismal dorm.)
Now, take a breath, for more or leth
My brain has had a storm.........


Our hero, ( you remember him?)
Last seen with Eagle flying
Was feeling somewhat cheated
As he missed the crunchies frying
And less than happy stomachwise
He thought, of hunger dying.

So when he smelled a barbeque,
A roasting smell like pig,
He said to Eagle, "Let's go down,
At least some lunch we'll lig,

"There'll be no soulful songs, with luck
We won't be forced to dig.
Is that a forest down below?
The distance isn't big."

Down dropt to trees, to trees dropt down
The Eagle and the Dandy,
And then beheld a grisly sight,
Less sweet than sugar-candy.

A dreadful Warlock poked a fire
On which was placed a griddle,
And round about a fiendish rout
With pokers poked the middle
Where chained there lay a Fid Dalleer,
But one without a fiddle.

"You'll play whate'er I say, all day
You mawkish mock musician!"
The Warlock ground his gritted teeth,
The Spannerdink Wisiscian
Had nothing much to teach a man
Of his sad disposition.

"You'll play in tune, or by the Rune
You'll put your life in peril,
And should you whinge, once more I'll singe
Your bum, or I'm not Berril."

But Dandy, honest Dandy was
At heart a noble sort,
And seeing the singey Fid Dalleer
Expleted a retort.

"I say, I say, now tell me, pray
How has this Fiddall earned
Such terrible opprobrium
His backside should be burned?"

The Warlock spun around in rage
His eyeballs gleaming redly
He snapped, he snarled, he growled, he gnarled
(Which meant he might be deadly.)

"You dare to interfere with me,
Berril the Warlock fearsome?
Nobody yet has faced that threat
But died, their end was tearsome."

"Excuse me," Dandy rashly said,
"But Berril is your name?
By Lootha's Lamp, that sounds so camp,
Perhaps you're on the game?"

At that the Warlock blew his top,
Blue-faced with bulging veins.
ZAP!!! Dandy Lad and Eagle had
Been strapped in magic chains.
"Now let me see," the Warlock sighed,
"Let's try some novel pains."

"Sleepers wake, the witch-fires freeze,
Get up and stop your snoring
Or I will nail you by your knees
Down to a parquet flooring."

With dreadful spells the Warlock tells
His minions to arise,
From bubbling slime and oft-watched crime
They swoop like swarms of flies.

"By Glibberith and Shinglepuk
I charge you, do my bidding,
Unblock the holes, stoke up the coals
And spread them on the gridding."

The furious furnace fiery fists
Grabble the gridding rails,
The iron glows, the bellows blows
Like wheezing Woggeltails,
While Dandy wails, his gob agape
And Eagle's courage fails,
"It doesn't look like he plans to cook
A brace of bruntling quails."

"It is my hunch, alas , we're bunched
Unless you know a prayer
That might persuade some gods to aid
Us now, though such is rare."

"Help," squealed shivering Dandy, "HELP,"
In purest coloratura,
"Is that a prayer?" the Eagle asked,
"I'd hoped for something surer,
This scene resembles something from
A print of Albrecht Durer,
The Fid Dalleer looks like nasty books
For tastes one terms obscurer.

The snerfling, gibbering ghoulies gan
To feed the fire with coke,
The grid glowed bright with hideous light
Suffused with greasy smoke,
"Your roasting," rasped the Warlock, "will
Not be, you'll find, a joke.
And that will teach you never at me
Your futile fun to poke."

"But don't you think we could just drink
A pint, and maybe settle,
This trivial slight, and say, "goodnight,"
With ale your thirst to whettle?"

"Don't try your luck, or think I'll truck
With trash. I am a Warlock.
Your fate is sealed, you'll be annealed,
There'll be no man from Porlock
Come knocking at my closet door
Or fiddling with the doorlock."

Just then there calls through cloudy palls
A voice of rusting thunder,
With flashing fire and portents dire
Of interstellar chunder.

The voice, 'twas of a deity
Who, balding, fat and fifty* (*eons, in which are measured the lives of gods. )
Was nonetheless, we must confess,
At cursing less than nifty.

"Vile scumbag cease, or you will frease
In nether hellish regions
And face unpleasant torments
From dark dismal demon legions."

"Now wait a moment, who are you?
I don't remember asking
For help to grill this motley crew
Whose juice I'll soon be flasking,"
Said Berril snarling at the light
In which the god was basking.

"They called for help, and that's my job
Whatever I enables,
To interfere, or make things clear,
Or just repair the cables.
You'd better stop, and close up shop
Or I will turn the tables."

"Base Trishan god, for such you are,
Be sure, I'm an immortal,
So putter off, you sorry toff
And kindly close your portal."

"That's it then, mate," the god replied
And touched a key-marked arrow,
The Warlock simply disappeared
No swifter than a sparrow.

"Now listen lads," the god remarked
"Don't say you had no warning,
Remember what the Witch-Waif said
That rather sozzled morning?

"So I'll be off. Now who's the toff?
I've wiped the Warlock's pages.
I find these heavy wizard types
All fluff behind their rages.
Oh, here's my card, should times be hard
You'll find me under "Mages".

At that the roiling clouds unrolled
And down there coiled a setta
Golden studded biker's gear
'Na celestial Ambretta.
The god hopped on, revved up, was gone.
Our heroes felt much better.

The lads looked round, upon the ground
No trace of fire was seen,
No griddle, bellows, ghoulies, coke
No spikes, or chains, or pikes to poke,
No Fid Dalleer to jeer or joke,
Simply the forest green.

BookMark

So when will it be an entry?

Just then a semi-quaver rang
Or possibly a minim
But Dandy care not for the sound
He'd still no dinner in him

The eagle feeling much the same
Was muttering faint curses
There's been no custard round here
For at least two hundred verses

But then again a quaver rang
Soon followed by a crotchet
And Dandy and the eagle thought
Perhaps they'd better watch it

And so they hid behind a tree
To wait and see what came
They thought they recognized a tune
But couldn't place the name

'Der der de derdler der de der'
Imagine it if you can
The dozy pair were hiding there
From a flippin' ice cream van

With 'Mind the Bairns' upon the back
A plastic cone on top
Though on these chilly forest nights
The business was a flop

He stopped and popped his head outside
And looked a little flustered
"Sorry lads but all I've got's
A choc-ice and some custard"

The eagle hadn't move so fast
Since fourteen forty-seven
Gave Mr Whippy all his cash
And said "I'll take eleven"

"It's odd" said eagle as he licked
Some custard from a talon
"We set out seeking gold but found
just yellow by the gallon"

"The games not over yet" said Dandy,
Choc-ice on his chin
"We've come so far and had such fun
Let's not yet pack it in"

A1070786

Excellent

A vision then appeared to Dandy
Fine and bright and golden
It made him stop, it made him drop
The choc-ice he was holding

The vision spoke of local folk
It spoke of days of old
Of candlewicks and fiddlesticks
And a stash of purest gold

"Young Dandy I've been watching you
You've had adventures many
Though must admit, I missed a bit
When I went to spend a penny

Nevertheless I must confess
You take me by surprise
The way ahead, it must be said
Is right before your eyes"

With that the vision was no more
And Dandy looked and saw
A map appear in front of him
That wasn't there before

A wondrous map like none he'd seen
With continents and oceans
And all the best of places marked
For buying magic potions

Rivers roads and mountain ranges
All were clearly labelled
And although some were quite hum-drum
Yet more were clearly fabled

Beneath the Murkled Mountains
Near the Grand Old Phallus Sea
Appeared to be the place where all
The bestest gold should be

"Let's not be rash" the eagle warned
"This all looks odd to me
You wouldn't want to gamble all
Upon a fallacy"

"You're right" said Dandy "who knows where
A wrong turn now may lead,
But here upon the back it says
This map is guaranteed

To lead you to that which you seek
Whatever that may be
From anywhere on Earth and for
A reasonable fee"

Editorial Note: At this point the "Epic Ballad of Grimley Moer" has passed the 1600 line mark, ( 40 pages A4 single column ) and is still in the first flush of vigorous youth! Scarcely a week old.

What a splendid record of well wasted space and time. Welcome one, welcome all, whether as balladeers, or just as ears for a ballad. Dilute to taste, or just read aloud in a grotesquely mangled dialect for best effect.



Take your pick and party

wallah

They take the map, without mishap
They cross another sea
A mountain range or two, they flap
Their wings of gallantry

The Eagle grasping Dandy's hair
Was now normality
But this time they've a Gangly Bard
Along for company

They cross a swamp, a ditch, a field
A wooden bridge or three
At last there stands to them revealed
The lair of Flaergal Flea

"Where did you get that extra A?"
They first astounded ask
"It just appeared" the Flea replied
"He's warming to the task"

Without a hoard of weapons, they
Feel suddenly a chill
They face their foe, they soon will know
Who will the other kill

"O Flaergal Flea" the Dandy starts
You've got the drop on us;
Shall we move on to other parts?
I think I hear a bus"

The Flaergal flea was ghast to see
In colour puce and gold
It towered over heroes three
'Twas legged a hundredfold

A stench emitted from its loins
That caused grown men to gag
And since its legs had fifty groins
It truly was a drag

Its eyes poured forth a fetid smoke
That bubbled as it blew
It made our knock-kneed heroes choke
And hurt their noses too

His back was wreathed in smaller fleas
And so ad infinitum
With nervous ticks about its knees
Trying their best to bite 'em

This gave the flea an aspect fierce
And manner unappealing
As one who dearly likes to pierce
His fellow's deepest feeling

The Eagle, Dandy and the Bard
Looked upward at him trembling
And casting glances heavenward
They thus began dissembling:

"What was that song you sang so long
With verses never ceasing
The universe's orijong
And matter much increasing?"

The Galgly Bard well took the hint
And with a slimy look
Began to tune his instrument
To get them off the hook

He tuned it to the Lydian
He tuned it to DADGAD
He tuned to every temperament
That ever had a fad

He begged his heavenly muse for aid
To tell the story true
Of that which could avert the blade
Now facing his small crew

The Lektro Lyre leaps into life
He plays his choicest riffs
Its accents mild cut like a knife
And echo from the cliffs

The nail he hits upon the head
He tells the Flaergal Flea
A sory to enlarge his head --
His Genealogy

"The mother of all fleas worldwide"
His ballad now begins
"Was the great god Puccino's bride
The lovely Wickerskins"

"They mated for a thousand years
And then two thousand more
And when the lady's time was come
Her brood began to pour

"Then first emerged the King of Fleas
Great Biter Blastigoon
Who sucked the blood from birds and bees
And monkeys on the moon

"There followed twenty thousand more
Fleas of the colour blue
Who straight went west, there to infest
The European crew

"Fleas of green were nextly seen
And fleas of brown and yellow
The greens attached themselves between
Each fish and his fish-fellow

"The browns infested ladies' pants
The yellow, sportsmen's jocks
Which gives a prance to those that dance
And spurs on fighting cocks"

The bard hits form; his song grows warm
He sees he's making headway
The Flea grows calm to hear the psalm
He lets himself be led 'way

At length his heart begins to smart
His breath begins to smother
The Bard approaches to the part
About the Flaergal's mother

"Oh never was a flea more fair
Her fame was universal
And all rojioced to see the pair
At their wedding-rehearsal

"They practised saying Yes I Do
Till none could fault their diction
And on the day the thing went through
Just like a work of fiction

"Thrice blessed be this noble pair
Thrice toasted till they gurgle
Most blest, to finish the affair
With their offspring the Flaergal"

At this the Flea is overcome
With floods of pent devotion
He shakes his head, he sucks his thumb
He shudders with emotion

He sits upon the stony ground
He cares now now who sees him
He open weeps; a strangled sound
And not exactly gleesome

The Eagle and the Dandy kiss
The Bard, and say "You've done it!
If we can get away from this
With any gold, you've won it!"

"You want my gold?" the Flea looks black
And all three bite their lips
And wish that they could take it back
As ever 'tis with slips

There's many a slip twixt cup and lip
As every epic shows
There's many a slip twixt cup and lip
And some betwixt the toes.

The Flea reared up in roaring rage
At mention of his gold,
Where once his hearts were warmed by song
His fury now was cold.

He reared up on his hundred legs
The lesser fleas were scattered
And bellowed with a blast that left
The rugged rocks there shattered.

He hopped, he leapt, his eyeballs swept
The land he looked for prey,
And Dandy and the Eagle thought
They'd quietly slip away.

But Blay, the Gangly Bard, who felt
His efforts should be paid for
Was too concerned to boot the loot,
Saw nothing to be afraid for.

Whatever stroke of luck had let
Him skip the missing pages
He'd brought his bag besides his Lyre
Ignoring Flergel's rages,
And "Here's your archibolt," he said,
"I've wanted one for ages."

There's many a slip, let's not be flip,
In poetry and prose,
Not hastely to conclusion do
We find an epic goes.

The Flea in furious anger hopped
About, in deadly dance.
Said Eagle, "Still, if we must kill
You'd better seize your chance."

So Dandy slipped between the toes
The Archibolt tightly grips,
Then blasted he from beneath the Flea
And seared its scaley hips.

In pinkish flame and purple pain
The Flergel downward drops.
Oh misery, technology
Had caught it by the chops,
And its frenetic dancing then
All of a sudden stops.

Its eyes grew dim, and rather slim
Became its hopes of living,
And though it gasps with breathy rasps
It didn't feel forgiving.

It spikey jaws, like several saws
Buzzed fast and with its sucker,
It sought amongst our friends to find
Some blood-rich hero tucker.

Twas far from dead, although it bled
And twitched upon the ground
While strangely from the Gangly Bard
There grew a groaning sound.

"Ere wait a mo, let's take this slow,
There's one thing we forgot,
We still don't know where Flergel's stow
Their gold, now he's been shot."