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

Sir, to that idea I raise my hat and say "270 (0x0000010e)"

And may all researchers stay "0". *Glug, glug, glug.*

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled
the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.
Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with
even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with
both hands.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the
kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself
already in heaven: there, spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table
were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven?
Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing
to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table,
landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous
taste of the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him
back to life. The aged and withered hand, shakingly made its way to a cookie at
the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his
wife.
"Stay out of those," she said, "they're for the funeral."

It's good stuff, this sour wine.

Mmmmm, I taste???.....Tannin.......

Aye, it's excellent sour stuff. We like it. Goes splendidly with the chicken...

What has happened to Mr Pepys? Has anyone seen him around recently? I mean, here we are in his Back Parlour making free with his liquour and serving wenches, and he not here to join in the bawdiness...

I haven't seen him for a while... he went away muttering something about a pint pot?

Did he have rubber footwear on?

I can't honestly say that I noticed.

Neither did I. And how come no one told me we could make free with the serving wenches.

You must have missed that bit of induction week.
Are you sure he wasn't wearing green rubber boots?

excuse me - but how come the serving wenches are getting all the attention *ahem ahem*

Greetings m'lady or is it an equine beauty we have before us?

I am in human form at present - cos I am about to go home to bed. A torturous tube journey awaits me. Night Vestboy *yawns* sleep well my love. *Exits clutching a candle and a teddy*

Nighty, night pet. Doesn't she look lovely in that red flannelette nightshirt?

Yes, she looks absolutely stunning. Err...But what's that she's got on her feet? Aren't those green rubber boots? Is it raining outside?

You mean she was wearing wellies? Well we kow she's in on the secret. I think we can work out who is in the know by their footwear. You can tell I'm not as I have a flip flop on one foot and a football boot (circa 1961) on the other.

*htrows another groat on the table* I think it involves pouring the contents of a pint pot into his wellies and walking around in them.

I wish I'd thought before saying that. Can I withdraw that guess and have my groat back?

*bitng groat to make sure it's not lead*
It's real - no you can't have it back. I think its a jolly good guess!