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

why hello there. im molotov and i just want to welcome you to h2g2. you should give yourself a name, like Mutton-Meat-Handy-Pak....

Thank you molotov. Yours was a generous suggestion. Indeed. I think that i'll do that. I must complement you on your page also. A splendid example of modern literary finesse. Sir, I do applaud you. Well done.

ahhhh...always a pleasure to discover a man who has a keen eye for the written word. your compliments near embarrass me, good sir. indeed, your page has struck me a being nothing but the finest literary marvel since crusoe himself put ink to paper. you are to be commended, sir. you are a gentleman and a scholar.

ahhhh...always a pleasure to discover a man who has a keen eye for the written word. your compliments near embarrass me, good sir. indeed, your page has struck me a being nothing but the finest literary marvel since crusoe himself put ink to paper. you are to be commended, sir. you are a gentleman and a scholar.

My dear friend Molotov,
Tis a joyous morn when one can barely bring himself to believe that words can be so eloquently placed. You, my dear friend molotov, have obviously a very high regard for the nature of language. An artisan is what you are, I tell you no lie. Bravo molotov. Bravo.

i am not a swearing man, sir, but i must say, good LORD, your masterey of the gentle art of english has left me nothing short of stupefied. your delicate phrases do indeed drip off my screen like the sweetest dew of crisp, beautiful mornings. it warms my heart to find that such men as yourself with your indefatigable employ of the literary arts do exist in this world. you give hope for the future, my dear fellow. it is almost as if your words do not merely sit next to each other on the page, but make passionate love, a lovemaking not seen since the days of Antony and Cleopatra. indeed, congratulations should be sent out to you sir, with an invitation to tea and crumpets with the Queen of England. well done, sir, you baffle me.

Dear molotov,
Again your have caused my eyes to become a spring. A spring from which these saline moments leap out and stream down my cursive cheek. A blunder is the fool who, alas, meets not with the splendour of your written word. He lives only with the torment of a life spent in waste. Never to know of the majestic and sumptuous feast that I have had the choice luxury of bearing witness. Verily is the moment... Your word is the heart... Such is the gift of life. I stand to you...
Sir, this is my honour.

dear good sir, your words have flattered me to no end. you are indeed the gentlest of men, your etchings are written 'pon my soul in your kind hand. and yet i am sad in replying to your lastest masterpiece as it meant i was forced to tear my eyes away from the hypnotic beauty of your musings. far off in the distance, i can hear Shakespeare's very ghost weeping, for he never knew your talent and fine, fine style. the kind of style that has brought me to my knees, as i kneel in the light of your incredible works, and i can only take my hat off and bow to you sir, and offer my humble praise at the shrine, the temple of your genius. every word you have wrought is to me like an old friend, a lover, even, each replete with its own character and feeling. i weep the tears of the awed, just being near one of your priceless works.
it is my fervent belief the Vatican will soon knock on your door, good, kind sir, to offer you the mantle of sainthood you so richly deserve. my dear fellow, the Heart of Goodness is your pen, and the very Soul of Man your canvas. i revere you sir.