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

Well, obviously not to be outweirded by the guy the ohter day, who ran my doorbell and asked me where 'number 16' was, today I had yet another person ringing my doorbell, only a few minutes ago.
I answered the door, fully expecting to be asked where number 14 was, or for directions to the nearest cafe, or perhaps even, if I knew the Ordinance Survey coordinates for this road.
But no. It was a man, again, but a different man, and this time he asked, me, as casually as you like.
'Are you Brian.'
To which I replied I was not.
He then asked me if I knew where Brian lived.
I thought for a few minutes, and then the interconnectivness of the universe buzzed slightly and a thought struck me,- that which in happening happens, happens, that which in happening causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen, etc., etc., .... and it goes around and around and around, and in going around it goes around again and causes itself to go around again, and eeryone gets a bit dizzy and quite silly.... etc., etc., etc.,
So.
I told him, that
'I'm not sure, but you could try number 16'.
To my utter supprize and bewilderment, he did not ask me where number 16 was.
So.
I won't be totally supprized if in a minute or two, the doorbell again sounds, and yet again, I am faced by another totally baffeling deeply philosophical question on temporal and spatial events in the observiable universe.
And, furthermore, I expect that, by the end of the week, there will somhow be a state of afairs in which, somehow something else is captured by this strange set of events, and it through its own concotion and bizzareness, becomes an even more manafold and baffeling thing.

I'm Spartacus!!

No I'm Sparticus

substitutes I for A...I'm Sparticus!!!

*bellows* AND I'M BRIAN BLESSED!!!

I'm Tony Curtis! I am not* Brian.... I have never been Brian.... who the bleep is brian?

Hey prof, I'm sorry i cant spell in forums, ironically enough i can spell in real life, just not in forums

Oh and im spartacus, spaticus and spartocus

Enchanté, je suis 2legs.

PoetPaul, don't worry mate, no need to apologise, I'm the same, I use my Mozilla email spell checker sometimes

mozilla spellchecker says I'm Spartacus

I knew a wupert and a wobert, but I don't know a brian 2legs??

Hello Dave?

I know a Brian but he tried to kill me with a exceptionally tiny spoon

I'm not Brian, I'm a very naughty boy.

I understand your bafflement in response to prospects of someone else arriving at your door within the next few minutes with a challenging philosphical question about your place in the univers and whether it is number 16.

When I used to live in Lewisham in South East London, I shared the flat with two friends. One evening we were sitting down and watching the TV when there was a knock at the door. When i opened it, three large black ladies were outside. The first of them, in a strident and confident voice, then demanded to be let in.
"What do you mean 'let me in'?" I answered.
"Let me in," she replied, getting angry, "I live here. Who are you?" This rather threw me, to be honest, as I hadn't expected to be grilled on my own doorstep on a weekday evening by someone I'd never met before about the nature of my own existence.
"No you don't," I responded, "I have lived here for two years and I've never met you before. I think you have the wrong house." At this point all three ladies became vary agitated and after some shouting tried to storm the front door. Fortunately my housemates had arrived afer hearing raised voices and joined me in preventing the intruders from getting in. At this point a lot of screaming and threatening behaviour started from the ladies, as well as threats to call the police, since we were clearly burglars. I told them that they were welcome to call the police since it is theoretically impossible to burgle your own house, a fact that the police would hopefully waste no time in confirming. We again attempted to convince the ladies that they had the wrong house, but they still weren't having any of it, and tried and failed to get past us again.

At this point, as I resigned my self to spending the rest of the night on my own doorstep trying to persuade three women I'd never met before that they weren't occupants of my house, our cavalry arrived in the sgape of the two cheerful Nigerian chaps who ran the clothes shop below our flat. They had been doing something in the shop, had heard the consternation and had been standing in their shop window watching events with considerable amusement until they had seen the women try and force their way in for the second time. They then came out and reminded the ladies that they actually lived at number 56, not number 58. The women then haughtily stomped next door, where they were admitted without question.

We thanked our saviours and went back inside for a well-earned beer.

says a lot for them at 56, must have been deaf, not to hear the racket, dare you to go with your mates and do the same thing

Nah, can't. I don't live in London anymore, and I'm not going all the way there just to annoy some people.

in that case my friend, your better away

I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that.

Hal, what are you doing Hal??