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

October 10th, two thousand and doodah.

Have you got what you like? Or what you think you like? Or what you think you ought to like if you were wearing ice cream splattered dungarees?

Often when you think that your pudding aims and objectives are fulfilled, you believe that you are too stoofed to fit even a wafer thin piece of ham in. But dig deep and you'll find that you still have a little pocket tucked away in your tummy, big enough to consider an in-depth yoghurt pot inspection without having a Mr Creosote moment.

If today felt like wading through a river of treacle, tomorrow should see you surfing down it on pancakes. And on the day when you find the waterfall of neverending curly wurlys, remember: give half of 'em to your pal Footie.

I have just recorded an in-depth prediction of your evening. Disburse twelvety three thousand pennies from your purse and click here to listen.

http://footbacon.googlepages.com/CC.JPG

The rest is coming later



*click*



It's... I want it, but... I don't! And then I do... maybe if I close my eyes...

*stumble* *munch* Eurgh... soap

*stumble stumble* Help! *stumble squelch* Ah ha! *munch* Yuck! That's a pillow...

*stumble stumble stumble thump thump thump*

Something's raingin down on me...

Curly Wurlys!!!

Here you go! That's, er, half*

* Of all the ones that fell in the first 2.15 seconds

*chomp chomp*

*tinymunch*

There's not many, is there?

P'raps it's broken.



*stairs*

*bangthumpbang*

*waterfall of clown noses*

Tonight's horoscope: Hockhober 10th, three thousand and oohjapiffy.

The chair will provide an infinite wisdom of how is best to keep your badgers dry. Health food shops provide dinosaur costumes and you will reign supreme.





*stairs*

*bangthumpbang*

Go to sleep with an orange *fzzzz* Eat plenty and spread plastic fire on your surrounding cabbages *whiiiirrrrr* Carousels are not to be tampered with. *kaphoot!*



Better get the star man in to fix it.

There's a star man waiting in the sky
He'd like to fix your waterfall
But he's too scared of clowns to fly...

All hail me!

Thought that'd get a tune out of you.

The mighty dinosaur clad Trin.

Carousel, oh mighty one?

*reads advice*

No! Too scared to tamper!

*trembly stegospikes*



Oo! That was just in this pocket here *horned head points*

Aw, go on. It's just a little one.

Look, the tiny horses are growling at you. Aren't they cute? And look at the sparks flying from the circuit board. It's so purdy.

The horoscope didn't say anything about you getting tons o' money.

Load of piffle.

That's the next instalment of the twelvety three thousand. I might need a loan of some sort, in fact. I hear the banks are very reluctant to lend pennies to dinos, though - I mean, they've only got ferns and boulders as collateral and they have difficulty managing repayment plans because they have brains the size of peas. Bad loan risk

Oh... go on then...

*tromp tromp tromp*

Heeeyup!

*squish*

Not very strong these tiny horsies

It was?

Sorry, I didn't receive that batch. It must have been tampered with by the badgers. I'm sure you'll get it back in the next five wallopping kookaburra tweets. Can you send it again?

*fzzzzzzzpop!*

Uh oh.

You've got red on you. On your nose. And on your lips. You're stegospikes have started growing some kind of green hair too.

The horoscope told you not to tamper.

Always listen to the horoscopes.

Not... a clownosaur?

Must escape - quick! To the dinomobile! *tromp tromp tromp*

All the doors have fallen off!

Easier to climb into while you're wearing the dinocostume then.

True

*tromp*

Honk! Honk!

(That was my nose )

Pfft! You've got the arse race going.

Hee hee ... what'll the lurkers think?

Biggy posting gap 'cos my boss rang to ramble "Any cheques? Eee, my coving. Three coats!"

Boss rambles Are you in charge, then? Could you do, like, pretty much anything? Blow the budget on doughnuts?

Yus. Mind, there's only two of us in our tiny department. So I can't boss people around. No time for doughnuts - a quickie lick of the keyboard at dinnertime and that's my lot.

Der der duh duh - der der duh duh



*ladder*

Hup! *ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping*

Lever the window open...

We're in!

Keyboard... right.

*pritt flakes and grated 'wich with doughnut extract and choccy pudding shavings* Sprinkle sprinkle sprinkle...



*pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping pung ping*



he he he...

*flump*

Tum ti tum

How did you know the side of my building was made out of a ping pong table?

I think the net gave it away

I mean...

What do you mean? Don't know nufm

Damned net. Always stops me from escaping.



Heyoop!



*bounce*

*crashes back into desk*



You've painted Tom Cruise orange and sellotaped him to my chair, haven't you?

Tom Croompa? He's there to fetch fresh 'wichey bits for sprinkling.

He's so keen, he has to be taped to the chair. Just pull the little tag to free him and he'll scamper there and back faster than the human eye can keep up with