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

Paul - it's not you
But the book I really, serioiusly object to



Jab

sp seriously

There was a man with a beard,
and at every lunch break he disappeared.
Then he would reappear and everyone cheered.
No-one knew where he went,
but some say that he went to Kent.
Before he would disappear a wormhole would appear,
and a sphere that would open up with pints of beer.
Followed by sheep and deer and a few engineers.
All holding spears as they try to grasp the floating pints of beer.
The same thing would happen when he came back to work,
Making everyone jerk as they wait for their beer perks.
As when the beer floated in, the rest of the staffed grabbed them,
and drank to their heart's delight, as they sipped their wonderfully cool amber gems.
Praising the man with a beard, a physicist and a cosmologist,
as well as being a leading egyptologist.
Who worked on the Stargate project learning how to speak technobabble,
and how to play scrabble with aliens in their alien towers of Babel.

Homer Simpson ate buns that were always overdone,
sitting in the sun having fun talking to his shotgun.
His shotgun was made of chocolate and cheese,
and was stuffed with peas that always attracted honey bees.
Homer was always on the run from his mad chomping donuts.
And from all the food he liked that came alive,
driving him to Clive's where he learned how to jive.
It was a voodoo spell to keep away the mad chomping donuts,
that were made that way by the radiation from the nuclear plant.
Which was staffed by people called Grant, and security guards who were ants.
As they listened to motown music especially by the 'The Degrees',
provided by Mr Burns as a reward for their expertise.
As a result of the unusual side effect of their work,
that made Mr Burns turn into the Incredible Hulk as he goes green and berserk,
when anyone smirks at him when is he talking to the clerk.
He then would make his staff recite poems, by Rabbie Burns,
to his many rare and precious urns.

Jock he was a simple man.
The simplest man in the whole damn clan.
He really had a generous heart, but was not really very smart.
So when they told him, "Hold the line."
He stood his ground in manner fine.
But sadly all who had stood around,
Then ran away to safer ground.
But Jock survived, for the enemy
Were dumbstruck, that a fool could be
So simple, or so blindly brave,
And decided then his life to save.
They took him back and fed him well,
And evermore this tale would tell.

Buns are fun to eat when sitting in the sun.
But not on the run from the young guns,
dressed up as nuns, shouting out their puns.
And their habits they wear, weigh a ton.
So they use The Force to help them move around.
To confound their enemies as they go underground.

Derrick and Eric visited Carrick,
to learn to become very numeric.
But the locals became very hysteric,
as they saw the words barbaric.
That they saw written on the duo's sweatshirts,
making them revert to wearing skirts.
Which even included the men as well,
who were all under a very strange spell.
That made them think that they were Scottish,
making them very pettish and tartish.
So Derrick and Eric painted their bodies in woad.
And dressed in Highland kilts, they recited their odes.
In praise of Wallace and Scotland and all things Scottish,
danced the highland reel which made them feel very extrovertish.

I am followed by sheep every time I leap.
As they watch me leap into my jeep.
Taking with them their washing, dropped in a heap.
As now they have taken to wearing clothes,
because it's very cold as the wind blows.
But the shepherd won't wash them as he's having a doze.
Now I have taken up the task of beinng the sheep's dry cleaner.
Winning the sheep over with my sophisticated demeanor.
And the quality of dry cleaning, no-one can can compare.
My reward for this work are bags of fleece and an easy chair.

not mine, had it sent


The Politicians poem

I want a floating duck house
I want to clear my moat
I need to mend my tennis court
That's why I need your vote.
I have to build a portico
My swimming pool needs mending
My lovely plants need horse manure
And the Aga needs much tending
A chandelier is vital
Mock Tudor boards are great
My hanging baskets won awards
And I've earned a tax rebate.
I need a glitter toilet seat.
My piano so needs tuning
Malteser’s help me stay awake
And my orchard must need pruning
I could have said the rules were wrong
And often thought I should,
But somehow it was easier
To profit all I could
The public really have to see
That the rules are there to test
And by defrauding taxpayers
We were just doing our best
The Speaker of the House has gone,
Our sacrificial beast,
But the public are still braying
For our corpses at the feast
What do the public want from us,
Those vote-wielding ingrates?
They really should be grateful
To be financing our estates.
The message is so very clear,
(we're merely learning late)
That the British way of living well
Is to screw the bloody state.

It is a very cold day today.
Along with the sky that looks so grey.
Wet and miserable,
making my neigbour very unbearable.
As she hackles away on the telephone,
having a good old moan.
About the people that she meets,
who are all very indescrete.
With their binge drinking,
making them feel that they are shrinking.
So it makes them angry and they have a fight,
always in the middle of the night.
After hours of karaoke,
and eating ham that is smokey.
They go and get all their clothes and put them in bags,
then leave them in their neighbours gardens, along with their rags.

Very well (badly of course) written about an emotive subject Prof, and hitting the various nails on the head! I enjoyed it immensely

Jabs

Don't know where that came from, Prof, but it's

Thanks for sharing it with us.

from a mate at t'other side of townowt for a laugh

Hey! You're supposed to say when it's not by you! Scallywag!

I think he did, Jabs.

Sorry, he did, didn't he. So close to the top I missed it. Thanks WFAT.

Apologies, Prof!

Jabs

did at top of it

no worries
no smiles
no hair
no tiles
no idea
no reason
no answers
no bloody ending
I'm off


mine

Still a great poem though