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

<>

Hmm, not convinced!!!!

Anyway, i am going to view a potential playmate for Yoda (who has just now toppled *something* to the floor downstairs)& since RK is probably going to be sleeping with this pussy, we have been thinking about possible names together.*aww, how sweet eh!*

I mean, he won't impress delightful young french ladies if he says "Hi, i'm Roadkill & this is ...er...Snotbag" will he?

We are currently pondering on "Tha Mooooon" as in "we like Tha Moooon"; nice tribute to Keith Moon too. But first i need to meet the kitty, she is one of a pair, which will be difficult she may already have a name or one may be obvious (ie: 3 legs, mangybot etc.)

zdt

<>
Oh my goodness, what a lifestyle! I know some people would love it, but it's not for me...
I have a cat poster, calendar, key, ring, pottery ornaments etc. but the family cats live with rellies... my son's Cleo is a darling!

Even worse before they got the house renovated. It was an old fish curing station, made partly out of fish boxes and papered with newspaper. Iain had lived in it in that state for years. All the floors were sagging.

That shows, Edward, that there truly is no accounting for tastes!

*hehehe* re: Pc and Terri

As for draggin shopping across to the island buffeted shamelessly by all elements..I guess that would make the triumph of shopping completed that much sweeter...altho not to sure about arriving to that kind of abode...

Bet the spectacular views and gorgeous loneliness from the rest of civilization of it was wonderful tho...

Google 'Dry Island Badachro' for a picture.

When they got married (a rioutous affair! I still remember the guy who had to keep dancing so he didn't fall over. And the 60-year old landlady of the local pub who 'got off' with the 25 year-old drummer in the band), my wife and I stayed on the island while they went on honeymoon. This was in the pre-restoration days. We arrived in the morning, hungover - actually, to be honest, still drunk and having had about an hour's sleep - with me still in my kilt and the tide just starting to come in but too shallow for the boat. We got most of our stuff over, but I realised that I'd left my trousers in the car (Edward, where's your troosers?). So I went back for them - splash, splash, splash, along the shore and up the hill, down the hill again along the shore - and by this time the water was at waist level, so I took of my kilt and waded over with it and my trousers held above my head in true Normandy style. (Digression: contrary to popular opinion, no sane individual goes 'commando' beneath a kilt. It chafes yer 'nads!). So - I arrived at the other side, by now freezing cold. No heating, of course, so we had to start a fire. Which first meant scouring the place for some fish crates to break up for kindling. Now - starting a fire is meant to be one of those basic, manly arts. But I hardly ever have to do it, so I'm no good at it. Moreover, it was blowing a gail and they had a rather poor chimney. To cut a long story short, eventually I had to resort to raiding the kitchen for a couple of sticks of lard which I smeared all over the kindling. It worked a treat!

(Reminds me of the story of the aggreived letter writer from the 'posh' part of Paisley to her local paper. 'I would like to complain about an error in your story last week concerning the fire at my home. You stated that the fire was started by a chip pan. It was, in fact, a deep fat fryer.')

I knew this cat who learned to come to the name 'Sod-off' after insinuating himself into the home of an extremely reluctant friend of mine. I think this friend is a cat god, because no matter what he does, cats want to be with him. And usually succeed. One of his other adopted cats is called Herpes, because it keeps coming back.

"contrary to popular opinion, no sane individual goes 'commando' beneath a kilt. It chafes yer 'nads!"

For you to know this, Edward, I take it that on at least one occasion, you were *not* sane?

......wow......those views.....

*hehehe*

Kinda reminds of 'cooking fat'..where have I heard that...some film or sit com I think! (fookin cat)

Great memory, Ed

I tried the kilt without the pants...but then thought better of it. However....putting on a kilt takes longer than you might imagine. Lots of buckles. Have you ever tried putting on pants underneath a kilt?

But, yes, I have been insane. Fortunately, the olanzapine cured it.

Now, you're absolutely certain about that aren't you????

Anyway, even if you are a Scots superhero, NEVER try putting pants on over the outside of your kilt OK?

zdt

ps: Vix; have you tried the emotional blackmail yet?

"Have you ever tried putting on pants underneath a kilt?"

The trick is to put the pants on *first*, and then put the kilt on *over* them. Honestly. Some people....

Precisely! Only I'd been taken in by the commando myth. Within two minutes I'd realised my mistake. 20 minutes later, I had my pants on!

(am I 'sharing too much' here?)

<<(Digression: contrary to popular opinion, no sane individual goes 'commando' beneath a kilt. It chafes yer 'nads!_>>
Och, I'm sore disappointed... My mother would never tell (she's of Scots descent) and I always wanted to believe what one of her cousins told us when we were kids.
Amazing mental picture, Edward.

20 minutes later!

Maybe Terri's wrong: maybe sometimes it *is* better to wear one's pants on the outside of one's kilt. Just think: you could have been Kiltman--Scourge of the North.

'Is it a nurd? Is it insane? No! It's Kiltman!'

My ribs 'urt...

Don't forget, me do live in Comix capital of Europe, me go to exploit this idea vite vite!

*watch out Captain Marvel & co*

zdt

Tintin au L'Ile des Couilles Endolorlies ?

Pourquoi pas? Naughty naked noolies encased in tartan, what a concept!

What next, Super furry flying sporrans maybe?



zdt

"Super furry flying sporrans"

We're still on the subject of fur balls, then, are we?