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

I must apologise for the abrupt departure of M. Wumbeevil, apparently he has an appointment at 3pm with the Psychiatrist General at the Capone Quote Hospital, or Statement Al as I believe it's more usually called.

I followed the link from that site.
"Kim and Dan go camping" sounded like a nice tale of everyday country pursuits...

So that's what they mean by snorkelling then?

Go check Xolin.

My grandma would be spinning in her grave

Wazzup!!!

Ah Argon, good to see you're still puzzled. SNAFU rools.

Take a feline slang word for part of the female anatomy that's almost passé. Add a singular piece of diving equipment mentioned above and guess at a worldwide URL.

I'm back. Despite tales of attempted suicide, hearing voices, and being hated for being the b*****d son of Captain Mainwaring, I persuaded the Psychiatrist General to remain in his position for another few years.

On my way home I placed some flowers on your Grandma's grave Ecky-Thump-Thump-Thump , and five seconds later she'd centrifuged them into perfume.

Must run along to see what jolly wheezes Kim and Dan get up to in the country.

LOLOLOLOL!!! That's one I owes ya.

The camping? or Grandma S's tips?

Have you read her hand knitted erotic story?

"...I shivered and nibbled his not-unhairy earlobe, brushing my hand through what was left of his hair.

"Whisper sweet nothings," I sighed. Soon Fenwick was telling me about the way lawn mowers just don't work like they used to, in a soft, luxurious voice..."

Where did you say Pheroneous had gone?

(Or, indeed and bejabers, have you been moonlighting yourself?)

Wow! Never have curry for breakfast AFTER you've showered....

...unless Edwina insists on it

I was talking about the camping. I don't ever remember it being like that. Flaps, guyropes and tentpegs, yeah, but the scoutmasters never looked like that when they were teaching us naked shoelace knotting techniques.

'Fraid the storyteller wasn't me, I'm stictly a geriatric erotica man.

She felt that familiar heat coursing through her loins and running down her legs as she gently parted Alfred's nasal hairs and forced her cherry-red gums against his. Alfred responded passionately and dribbled down her chin, all the time trying to avoid repeating the passion-killing mistake of standing on her boobs....

....the sound of clashing zimmers sounded throughout The Home for Retired Gentlefolk that night, announcing Ethel and Alfred's love and impending hip replacement requirements to the world. Ethel spurred Alfred on by shouting Vera Lynn lyrics into his hearing aid until he could contain his passion no longer. With one final, mighty thrust, Alfred lifted his zimmer off the ground and placed one of its legs inside Ethel's. At last they were one.

The visions of Michael Barrymore faded from Ethel's remaining brain cell as she looked at her red-faced lover. One day she would give him a stroke, but first she had to find a way of removing his catheter. "Have you finished Alfred? How was it for you?"

Alfred stared lovingly at her and felt as if he was 82 again, "Best jobby I've had in weeks Ethel. That'll keep my trousers warm all night."

The next morning the frightening figure of Nurse Orcus in his regulation NHS bloomers, patrolled the home. He could sense something had happened during the night, but what?

His iron-knickered gaze traversed the dining room, went out the French windows, climbed up a drainpipe, and looked in the window of Alfred Bibbit's room. It zoomed in on the used packet of fybogel carelessly discarded beside the bed.

"Aha! Got you now MISTER Bibbit"

Pausing only to change into a rubber thong, Nurse Orcus bounded up the stairs and into Alfred's room.

"ALFRED!!" she shrieked, pressing the empty packet into his wrinkled, smiling face. "What is the meaning of this? You've been with that Ethel P.P. McMurphy haven't you?"

Alfred cowered under the blankets for 13 nanoseconds until he could stand the smell no more.

"Yes Nurse Orcus"

"Do you realise what your mother would say if I told her that her only son had been indulging in laxatives? Can you imagine the effect that would have on her? I think she would take some senokot and blow her bowels out. In fact I think I'll just go and tell her as soon as I've changed into my pink camiknickers."

Excuse me. I'm off for a bath.
There's a bigun in your inbox if you're interested.

Ethel P.P. sat silently crocheting beside Alfred's bed. It had been three days now since Alfred had been driven insane by the threats of Nurse Orcus to tell his mother about her son's laxative habit. He had inflicted a frontal bottomy on himself and had not filled the bag or regained consciousness since.

"Now you wake up Alfred, and I'll show you the nice colostomy bag cover I've crocheted for you. It's in your favourite Keecht McKegs tartan"

No reaction.

"Alfred, if you can hear me, give me a sign. Flutter your eyelids, move your bowels or something. Tell you what Alfred, do you remember how you won my heart when you farted 76 Trombones during Nellie's funeral service? Do that into your bag to let me know you're OK"

No reaction.

She looks out the window and sees Orcus posing on a sunbed clad only in a Harris Tweed thong. "Oh look, is that Vera Lynn running naked across the lawn?"

Alfred's eyelids flutter, the colostomy bag starts to inflate and a squad of sailors rush in and grab the restraining ropes. His lips move silently. Ethel ties her hearing aid to his nasal hair and picks up his murmerings...

"...logs on the fire"

"Ah that's my Alfred, you'll never forget burning your bum doing that will you?"

"...gifts on the tree. A time for rejoicing in all that we see..."

Ethel's heart misses a beat. She suddenly feels as if she's been slapped in the face with a used incontinence pad. Realisation dawns.

"ORCUS you b*****d!!! You've turned him into Cliff Richard"

Ethel grabs her crochet hook, runs into the underwear vaults and rips into Nurse Orcus's world famous collection of edible panties, parcels up the remains, and sends them off to starving kids in Brixton.

She then zimmers furiously down the corridor, leaving a trail of burning rubber and skidmarks, to the William Shatner memorial ward and heads for the massive porcelain bedpan in the middle of it. She looks in admiration at the gigantic Captain's Log and grips the bedpan in both hands.

With a wrenching, tearing sound she strains and fills her incontinence pants, then tries to lift the bedpan. It breaks free and she hurls it through the window straight at Nurse Orcus.....

(to be incontinued)

Goodness, I almost forgot.

Quick M.Wumbe, ring home and ask Wummenbeevil to set the VCR.
Your pinup is on the box tonight.

BBC2, 9pm - When Louis met Ann.

She'll eat him for dinner!

Made it!

Decisions, decisions. I found the last half hour of Braveheart hilarious, so I'm going to have to tape one of them.

OK I'll tape Ann with a view to putting up a cybershrine to the holy virgin.

Damn! Picked the wrong one to watch. You might have warned me that I'd already seen the funniest bits of Braveheart. And to think I missed her scrumptiousness to look at Mel's legs.

Hey! Guess who just made the h2g2 windbag list for the first time in over a year.

Who? You?
If ye gan on lyek this hinny ye'll hev t'BOG an' t'Snug on t'front page!

Oh by the way, I heard about your tower shrinking.

How many metres has it lost?