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

The was my way of conferring the highest praise.

I always feel particularly honored when I get a .

which isn't as often as Paul.

There are obviously too many people around here with too much time on their hands.



Bassman

OK - let's see if we can elicit a further groan, then.



There's this tribe, out on the Masai plains. THey have a rich cultural history and still build their huts in the traditional manner, from wattle and daub, with thatched roofs.

Anyway, the tribe comes under threat from the white big game hunters, and the elders decide to hide all their valuables in case the village is pillaged. Unfortunately their only valuable is an ancient mahogany and silver chair that the tribal chieftan traditionally sits on, and being absolutely massive, it is somewhat inconvenient for hiding.

Eventually, they find a solution. The chieftan's hut is huge, and has large rafters that they have constructed. It may just be possible to hide this chair up there in the roof. So, after much pushing and pulling, winching and lifting, the chair is finally stashed.

And not a moment too soon. Just as the last of the elders is climbing down from the roof, then the white men burst through the door of the hut and demand that the tribe hand over their valuables or they will get hurt.

Acting innocent, the elders all shrug their shoulders and pretend that they don't have any valuables. So, enraged at wasting their time, the white men storm back out of the hut, slamming the door forcefully as they go.

Unfortunately, this door slamming loosens something in the not-terribly well built rafters. A few flakes of grass come tumbling down and before the elders know what has happened, the huge chair coems slamming down, bringing most of the roof with it.

Incredulous, the leader of the big game hunters turns round and says: "Well, that proves one thing, boys. People who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones"

B

And people who tell such puns
Should expect to get .

,ok>

THis chap's out driving, right, when his car splutters and comes to a halt. A bit narked, he pulls up next to a farmhouse.

Knocking on the door, he hears a very loud clucking noise from the nearby barn, but before he gets chance to investigate, the farmer answers the door.

"Excuse me mate" says the motorist, a bit sheepish. "You don't know anything about cars, do you?"

"Eee, that I don't" says the farmer in his stereotypical Zummerzett accent. "But, I'll tell yer what - I like your face, so I'll let yer borrow the chicken"

"Chicken? What good's that going to do me?"

"Arrr, this not be any ol' chicken, me lad. This here chicken is nine feet tall."

Incredulous, the chap watches as the farmer goes into the barn, and walks out leading a tethered nine-foot chicken.

"Ah'll tie him to your front bumper and he'll tow you to the nearest garage. 'E's well trained, so if you want him to go faster, just sound your horn. To slow him down, just nudge your brakes and he'll take the hint."

Speechless, the bloke watches the farmer tie this monstrous chicken to his car. He gets inside, and still somewhat bemused, taps his horn. The chicken straight away starts sqauwking like crazy, flapping it's wings and pulling him down the road.

After a few hundred yards at a steady 30mph, the chap decides he wants to go a bit faster, so he sounds his horn again and the chicken picks up the pace again, still squawking it's way down the road, wings flapping, to 70mph.

Intrigued, the driver decides to see how fast this monster will go, so he sounds his horn for a third time and the chicken picks up speed to 90mph.

But then an almighty creak - something snaps. The chicken doesn't notice it, and jogs off over the horizon at 90mph, dangling a front bumper on a rope off into the distance. Feeling somewhat foolish the guy sits in his car as it crawls to a halt, listening to the squawking noise dopplering into the distance.

But, as luck would have it, an AA van appears from behind him. The very nice man inside pulls up alongside the car and asks: "Do you have a problem, sir?"

"Er...yes, I rather think I have."

"Do you know what's wrong with your car?"

"Yes. The big 'en's gone.

B

Perhaps he should have popped the clucktch?

I'm afraid the motorist laid an egg with that one.

It's a fowl truth.

B

But all in all, it was a souper joke.

I've been keeping it cooped up.

B

You have a right to crow.

... and to give free range to your imagination ...

Well, it was just poultry in motion, you know.

B

Hi everyone!
Just "chicken-in" to see what's "quacking" you all up, and what all the "squawking" is about...

Pandora is not well. She needs some support with thoughts, prayers, whatever.

Please pop over to her page, and send her a greeting.

Thanks!

I guess the yolk's on you.

Well, that was incredibly bad timing...


There's a thread started already: F66142?thread=311862

Yup!
And the stench is rather "Fowl"

So put on your best threads and go cheer
up Pandora with a yarn or two.

In times gone by, there was a (somewhat cruel) sport known as Bear Baiting. Two bears would be put into a bit, and have to fight to the death. Between fights, the bears would be kept in pits all the time, so they were used to the surroundings during a fight.
One bear-keeper, though, was very poor, and couldn't afford his own pit, so he kept his bear stuck down the bottom of the local well. (obviously, it wasn't used any more for getting water...)
Many years after this, when the sport had died away, and bears were no longer kept down the village well, a man fell down the well. (No bears, but quite an unpleasant experience nonetheless)
A crowd of people gathered around the top of the well, calling out to the man those typically innane comments like "Are you all right?".
Fortunately, he was unharmed (albeit with something of a headache), so he starts looking around for a way to get out. In the darkness, he finds a series of grooves and indentations in the wall of the well, where the bears have scraped over the years to get out.The grooves run almost the whole way up to the top, and the man starts climbing carefully up the well wall, following where many bears have previously gone.
Meanwhile, at the top, one of the crowd has run off to get a length of rope. He returns, and asks the others how the man is.
"Oh, he's bearing up well," is the reply.