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

Hi Knitbunny - Lion here.
I have about three seconds before the Weddell expects her cup of in bed, but I just want to say sorry about Pinniped's outrageous behaviour. Particularly over mentioning the poetry and the very rude references to....well, you-know-what.
I apologised to Pod too. *Squirm*
And please don't tell Pinniped I'm sleeping with the Weddell! Ohmygawd. This is all too much...
Lion

No worries Lion! When your alter ego developes free will there's gonna come a time when you have to let them stand on their own two feet (or, um, flippers) and let them take responsibility for their own actions. If you're gonna spend all your time running around apologizing for Pinniped then you're gonna be very busy indeed.

I kinda like his straight forwardness anyway, and you don't need to worry about my delicate little sensibilities being shocked by his references to 'you-know-what'. Hell, I'm a League of Gentleman fan, have you ever SEEN that programme?

I wouldn't worry about Pod either, people here have very short memories when it comes to ruffled feathers.

Don't worry, I'll keep schtum about the Weddell
knitbunnyxxx

Hi Knitbunny
Sorry I've been a while replying. In a perverse sort of compensation, you get two replies, kind of. This is the normal bit, insofar as I can do normal. I need to post another reply to link to the Pier. It follows below, but it would be churlish to send you just that. I'm starting to realise that people don't necessarily enjoy saturation bombing with self-indulgence, whether or not I think it's funny.
But I needed another character, and (as you'll realise) this one's for Pod. I'm not entirely sure what a Muse of Gibberish is supposed to inspire people to. This is my best shot, and the story obviously needed an albatross anyway. Don't you agree?
Anyway, here goes...
_____________________________________________________________________
Hello Dear
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Miss Alberta Coleridge, and I've recently been employed by Mr Pinniped to act as his clerical assistant. I have the greatest wingspan of any known species of shorthand typist.
The League of Gentlemen, eh? You know, every now and then a TV program comes along that redefines the boundaries of broadcasting creativity. The great ones set light to the imagination of the audience, admitting us all into a world where the conventional confines of the medium are exploded, and where literally anything becomes possible. These magnificent works of art introduce ideas that seem to take to life and grow in the mind of the watcher. Even television may lead us to scale new pinnacles of intellectual experience.
Is your program like that, Dear? I've never watched it myself.
Nonetheless, I've decided to write a Guide Entry about a very nice Caribbean gentleman called Royston Vasey, who bedded a dear friend of mine during his World Tour of the Colne Valley back in '73. At that time he was a Northern Soul icon; now he's a stalwart of the Clitheroe Public Transport Executive, but no less imposing a figure for that. Well, not much less imposing anyway.
Did I mention that I actually met my friend? Yes, I suppose it was fairly probable that I might have done. Met her, I mean, not mention it. Anyway, it was while I was in repose "at Her Majesty's leisure" in Holloway, owing to a misunderstanding over the deaths of a number of my relatives. I never did satisfactorily establish my friend's gender, but she/he/it was unquestionably a very nice person. It's no coincidence that she's now a resident of Bootle, if for no other reason than that most of his family are from Widnes.
What am I doing here, you may well ask? Why does Mr Pinniped need a clerical assistant? Quite apart from the alarming frequency with which I have to empty his litter bin, there's Mr Pod. It's a pretty blue one with a little frill round it by the way. The litter bin, not Mr Pod. Where was I? Oh yes, Mr Pod has been immensely kind to Mr Pinniped, not even notwithstanding the terrible injuries to his elbows, and Mr P – oh dear, they're both Mr P's; I mean Mr Pinniped, of course – yes, Mr P remarked that we really needed someone round here to give the other Mr P something to Muse at. Whatever that means.
I don't suppose you remember 1973, do you? Not being such a wee slip of a thing as you quite evidently are. I love Scotland, you know. Letterboxes. You don't see them everywhere nowadays, do you? But I really don't know why they got that Mel Gibson to play William Gromit. Or was it Mrs Simpson? I forget.
I have a little piece of paper on top of the wardrobe that clearly states that I'm perfectly sane, signed by the Electricity Board. I don't know if you wanted to know that, Dear, but I thought I'd better mention it because absolutely everyone else has insisted on taking a look at it. Mr Lion has read it several times. Don't you think he's masterful, the way he shakes his head like that? I do hope I've made a good impression on him. He's a terribly nice gentleman, but I rather suspect that he would prefer to do more of the talking himself. It can be very difficult when you have so many avid raconteurs around the place, what with that and the curtains. And have you noticed how cement mixers are much more orange than they used to be?
Well, I must be going, Dear. It's been simply lovely talking to you, and I do hope that you haven't found the experience too upsetting. No, not talking to me – that couldn't be upsetting, could it? It was more that I thought it was you that got eaten by the polar bear. But looking at you, I don't suppose it could have been you, could it? I wonder who that was then…

Miss Coleridge, it has been a pleasure to meet you. Must you go so soon? I could bring you some tea and biscuits, if you like. You're no relation to the Coleridge who wrote Xanadu, are you? I've just been advised to read that.

Now if you'll excuse me I think I need to lie down for a bit, in a quiet room.

knitbunnyxxx

SSSShhhh...don't encourage her. But yes, there possibly is some connection. She claims to have a 13th Century Mongol warlord for a bridge partner. Ah well, back to the pleasure dome....

Actually, I think she's lovely. She reminds me of my Auntie Rita when she's not been taking her pills.