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

I am decidedly fat
There's no escaping that
No treatment is available
So says my Auntie Mailable
So as I stroke my skunk
then climb into my bunk
It's not a pretty sight
So I'll turn off the light.

Please call me Mavis
and not Joe Davis
as I don't play snooker
and not much of a looker.
But I've got a great cooker
that is powered by air and never gets dirty
and even turns rubbish into food and is great for a party
costs nothing to run and is a lot of fun
especially at picnics or at a fun run
organised by nuns who are partial to iced buns
who shout stand attention to those who bake Sally Lunns
and like to have competitions to see who can make the best puns.

The eye of the beholder is where you find
Beauty, though it may be in the mind.
Radiant youth, bright eyes, clear skin.
Is wanting to look your best a sin?

Mandy this is a place like to go
faraway on the snowy plateau
where Joe goes with the flow with Flo
and talks to the crow about their hit West End show.

Mandy do you want another brandy ?
Is your kitchen floor still sandy?
Are you going to change your name to Andy?
Do you want to have a pint of shandy ?

They thought I should be a poem, but I was averse.
I told them about poetry: there's nothing worse.

In the beginning there was the word
Which sets us above the common herd
Those monkeys that toil on that old Olivetty
Can't match 'The Bard', they just knock out sphagetti
A line or two from 'The Thinker' or Paul
Is a towering achievement; poets one and all
You have the talent, so if you've the time
Don't worry, just scurry and knock out a rhyme.

Thank you Frank for your very kind praise
as you too write to amaze in your wonderful ways
so lets all take a pint of beer and raise
a toast to all poets on h2g2 and bathe in the sun rays
and have corn of the cob or pancakes made with maize
covered in fish in sauce lyonnaise sitting on a long lounge chaise
wearing uncomfortable stays underneath our skirt of our polonaise
dresses watching out for the latest fashion fad and craze.

I raised a toast as well,
But, wet from the beer,
It had begun to swell.
'Twas soggy toast, I fear.

What a plight....no time to write
I must fly to the store....and buy some more
Of the suff that makes me what I am
Butter and sugar, bread and jam!
I leave you now....will I be missed?
I have so many items on my shopping list.

Here's to the shoppers who shop.
I hope you will shop 'til you drop.
When you've bought your fill,
Will you please pay the bill?
If you don't then I might call a cop.

Dear Frank you'll be missed
but soon you'll be back in our midst
after your trek to the shops
to get lamb or pork chops
or even perhaps a treat of T-bone steak
and treble chocolate cake
with three types of chocolate and topped with cream
which will taste like a dream.

I just met a man who said that his wife
Was not well, but much better than she was before
I asked, "Before what?", but he said,"On my life,
I just can't remember" so I asked him no more.

With his red knotted handkerchief tied round his head
And his yellow plimsoles, that matched his silk tie
He told me that he had just got out of bed
I asked him how long but he didn't know why.

I bid him farewell and I went on my way
Concerned that the poor chap could do with some aid
I brought him some sandwiches on a bright tray
Then went home and pigged out on sharp marmalade.

Of all the things I've lost,
I miss my mind the most.
My fingers I keep crossed
Lest I repeat a post.

[Have I posted this one before? ]

I've never felt like this before and I all want is more
of the same thing and never be accused of being a bore
with my ambitions soaring re-writing stories of yore
about a magic world that can only be accessed by going through a secret door.

Where there are heroines and heroes that always win through
and at the end of every battle sit down and eat a bowlful of stew.
They get their mail delivered by the chimney flue
of requests for help and instructions will be left on a meadow which is covered in dew.

There's a secret door somewhere.
I'd go through it, but it's secret.
P. T. Barnum says, "This way to
The egress." Does he mean the egret?

High flying sales executives have high sales targets
by selling various types of gadgets and widgets
and widen their sales profits by keeping to their budgets
of how much they spend on corporate hospitality of dining on roasted hoggets.
Impressing them with their sales patter and their yorkshire pudding batter
and how they flatter their clients showing them machinery operated by anti matter.

I've noticed that businessmen talk funny.
No one would care, but they have most of the money.

Have you ever seen the rain
fall down your window pane
into the roof's drain
whilst drinking a glass of champagne ?

Have you ever eaten chow mein to relieve your elbow pain?
Have you even had an intelligent conversation with your great dane
and have you rewarded your dog with a slice of quiche lorraine
along with the juiciest of bones and a trip on a steam train?

Have you ever wanted to have great wealth and fame?
Have you ever wanted to become a British Empire Dame ?
Have you ever wanted your life to stay the same?
Have you ever wanted world peace and end to the war game?

When I was young, I wanted many things.
In my mind, ideas multiplied,
But time has flown with ever faster wings,
And many youthful hopes by now have died.

Lets all shout whoa whoa
to those who's are fans of Vincent Van Gogh
from the hill tops down to the plateau and we'll make a musical show
about his life that'll be directed by Flo
who lives at the chateau and has vineyards in Bordeaux
and knows how to make it snow
as well as how to reach bliss by going with the flow
and having rouleau and discussing the works of Rousseau
whilst writing a philosophical rondeau
and organising a magical and marvel characters tableau
with superhumans who's bodies are all aglow
as they drink a glass of pernod when greeting the crow who's always on the go.