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

*So, let's get this straight… You,.... you want Me to play the Son of God? Actual Jesus? Me, Christ Steve!*

Swann lit another joint, sucking in a huge lungful, as he had since his very first conversation with Henry, and it never got any less confusing talking to the prat.

*It's a Christmas music shoot, two days max, all the crumpets you can eat, a free wig and beard for your collection too! It's a great gig!*

*Crumpets aside, Erm, how do I pit this? No, no, bleedin no way!*

Swann was stunned, he'd never thought Letterbox was remotely religious, he was shocked.

*I never thought you were remotely religious, Henry, I'm shocked!* Swann's mouth caught up with his brain.

*I ain't, not one bit, that's not the bleedin point!*

*Then why are you turning it down?*

*Because I bleedin hate that purple haired bleedin poseur, bleedin Ted bleedin Damson! You can stick his bleedin video, stupid song anyway, Jaffa Cakes and Jesus, Christ!*

*Johnny Cakes and Jesus, no surname * Swann toked hard as Henry glared at him,
*Quick shoot, full hair and wardrobe, bugger around in the kitchen while plum face croons, jobs a guddun!*

Swann didn't know what a guddun was, but he'd heard the Brits saying it and thought Henry may appreciate the effort, he needn't have bothered.

*No, no and bleedin no! Not Ted bleedin Damson!*

*slowly he turns...*

What's wrong with a simple traditional Christmas tale of an Evangelical TV chef and singer sharing the season with the world's greatest actor and rock star?

Keep going.

Ted Damson adjusted his immaculate plum coloured tie, and gestured with his equally immaculate, and very expensively manicured, finger towards the platinum awards covering his office walls.

Swann took in the headliners:

Loaves and Fishes, sharing a Subway of the Lord.

Sauté d'Agneau, even the French love the Lamb of God.

Dutch Gourmetten, Your way with Yahweh.

Damson rotated his immaculate finger, despite the amount of gold threaded onto it, and settled on the only blank piece of office wall.

*That, my son, that is for this year's Christmas hit! Hillbilly Heaven, Johhny Cakes with Jesus!*

He picked up an improbably heavy Televangelist 2008 award and went on, *If Billy Graham could've boiled an egg without burning it, this little beauty would've been sitting on his desk, (God rest his soul) , but it's mine.

You see I've manged the impossible, Mr Swann, I've successfully mixed preaching and cooking, the way to a man's (or ladies, God Bless them all) heart is through their stomachs… and ears it seems!*

Swann needed a joint, but rightly thought Damson would disapprove, his only high being the High and Mighty.

*Americana - Clooney, French cuisine - Depardieu, Those fiddly little Dutch pans with Rutger, we've had them all on the promo videos. A sixty billion industry Mr Swann, a genre that transcends radio, TV, theatre, recipe books, you name it, We've cornered the market!

And now, for our Hillbilly Heaven, Christmas Spectacular, instead of Willie or Kriss, your production company wants me to appear with not only a Limey, but a dead Limey at that*

*Technically, Ted, Mr Letterbox isn't dead, he's a…'*

*Don't, sir, do not utter the Zee Word in my presence. Rising from the dead is the right of one man, and one man alone!*

Swann looked blank.

*Our Lord and Saviour, sweet baby Jesus! None of this Hollywood BS, no brain eating special effects, no fake blood or horror, just the Son of God rising…. *

Swann sat for the next two and a half hours, whilst Damson preached and simultaneously prepared a rather delicious, perfectly risen soufflé. Jeez, this had better get Letterbox the gig!

I'll bet Sam Malone served sloe gin at Cheers. You make it by steeping sloes (usually plums) in gin. American plums will do fine instead. I think a shot of sloegin qualifies as a serving of fruit juice.

[Did Jesus *want* to come back from the dead? Did anybody even ask him? Such bad things happened to him, and he couldn't escape, as if the universe had it in for him. Even today, there are people who construct a mini-Jesus who has the opinions they want him to have. This is a far cry from the God of genesis through Leviticus, who called the shots on *everything*. Sorry about the rant, though not very sorry.. The trouble with Christianity is Christians themselves. ]

*Flamin Crumpet Productions Inc would like to point out that no characters in this work of absolutely pure fiction is based on real life personages. Any simularities with anyone, living, dead or undead, is the product of your own imagination. FCP Inc accept no responsibility for any such comments, thoughts or downright bleedin accusations.(and he was much better in the Good Place... If that's the person you have imagined to be hinted at, totally erroneously by the way)*

Anyway....

..... Back to the totally fictitious, light-hearted, don't take it seriously, latest Henry Letterbox spoof.

Deep breaths now, it's only a story....

*So they couldn't afford a little Tefal non-sick bleedin pan, but they could go out and buy gardening tools? I worked on Highlandscaper, I saw how bleedin expensive gardening stuff is! *

Swann groaned, twenty minutes now he'd been trying to explain what a Johnny cake was to Henry.

*Anyway, H, they cooked these corn pancakes on a hoe back in the day…. *

*So who's Johnny, and why is he eating bleedin pancakes off a dirty hoe?' Henry smiled evilly to himself, *Although, there was one very naughty girl back in Blackpool, where we ate… *

Henry (thankfully) stopped mid sentence as the production office door opened and the latest P. A. ushered in a very, very, purply attired Ted Damson.

*Not one more word about Blackpool!* Swann hissed at Letterbox, hastily stubbing out his doob, and walking around his vast desk to greet Ted.

*Revealed Damson, Ted, dude, so great to have you in the City of Angels!*

Damson's face turned, well, almost, Erm, Damson.

*There is but one place where the Heavenly Angels reside, Steve my son, and that is in the house of the Lord!*

*Ah, of course, of course, bless all the, erm , Angelic dudes, Reverend Damson, please do me the honour of introducing you to Henry Letterbox. Henry, meet the Very Very Reverend Damson!*

*Hello Eddie, how's that nasty little infection?* Henry beamed through a mouthful of butter and crumpet, *Ain't seen you since that wild weekend in bleedin Blackpool!*

This post has been removed.

No, no and no. FCP Inc does not endorse outside links to any other stuff mid or post ramble.

Stop it right now, you're not clever, you're a very naughty boy! (FCP Inc, would like to point out the last comment was in no way based on a famous religious spoof movie, just turned out like that, sorry...)

(FCP Inc, would like to officially give up now, have a cup of tea and a lie down in a dark room. For the conclusion of this story, see another website that FCP Inc will not post a link to as its just bleedin annoying and ill-mannered, even for me.)

Can I u do what I've done, then? I'd like the story to proceed.

Removed. And I want the rest of this story because I was laughing my fool head off...

I've emailed you!

Glad t hear it.