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

And with a new land speed record of minus fourteen days, five hours, eleven minutes and thirty three seconds I also wish you a peaceful and happy New Year.

Although, if my ailing computer is to be believed I shall be pulling off a spectacular coup by replying to this message at 02.21 on the first of January 1999. I think my Millenium Bug has finally arrived.

Little to report from the boggy fens of Telford. The holiday season was spent in the dark with twenty eight assorted poorly chaps and chapesses and Santa saw fit to leave me a vibrating cuddly green snake that sings something dreadful in Spanish. 2003 began in fine style this year and to mark the occassion I was heartily vomited at by the leaking gastric ulcer in Bay B.

Cheers. Make mine a damp sponge and a pint of whatever she had.

Yours after the event,

xxx

Huge embrace
Welcome back
Thought the mothership had finally taken you back to your planet of origin for a while there.
You Christmas sounds marginally better than mine
Nothing to report really
work=poo
life=poo
money=poo
marriager=pooier
Jack=fantastic
health=runny poo
no change there really
W
x

Have decided, in my wisdom, to play a bit of a practical joke on/around Valentines day.
I'm in the middle of printing out 50 or so valentine cards, which will all be placed in individual envelopes, then put into one large envelope and mailed to my place of work. When the large package arrives (It is hoped that) the girls in the post room will distribute the aforementioned cards to some of the ugliest, sweatiest, disgustingly childish men in the building, with the exception of Big Dave (who is so breathtakingly good looking I cannot speak in his company without making a total and complete ar5e of myself).
Anyway I am looking for suggestions for small 4 line poems that I can include in the cards.
W.
xx

Wicked girl.

However, I have some limited experience in this field and will gladly share the contents of the three Valentines Day cards that I have ever received.

"Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
You're fat, bald and sweaty
But I suppose that you'll do."

"Violets are blue,
Roses are red,
Dear God, what's that thing?
My mistake, it's your head."

"Violets are cyan,
Roses magenta.
May I ask did your mother
Bring home the placenta?"

I hope that this is of some service to your co-workers.

If not, I can recommend a number of excellent therapists.

I bow to you, for those are three truly wonderful poems and thank you for reducing me to tears(of laughter).
Rest assured that they will be included in at least 12 of the "cards" which I intend to distribute.
If you should think of any others, please send them to me.
So far the best I could come up with is
Violets are blue
Roses are red
Bacofoils shiny
And so is your head.
This is aimed at one particular individual called Aiden (I am convinced he buffs his shaven head with an attatchment on an orbital sander)
So, you see, any contributions are welcomed.
Wendy


this is one of the few icons I know