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

This was going to go into this week's post. But there is no this week's post for it to go into. So I'm putting it here instead, and, for any poor unsuspecting soul that stumbles across it - please accept my apologies.

Monday


Today, I woke up, watched the cartoons, ate a cheese and avocado sandwich and drove to the studio. I am very happy with my new car. For a Robin Reliant, it goes pretty fast, and it is small and nimble and I usually have no trouble finding a parking space. Of course, it was a bit dull when I got it first, but I sellotaped some torches to the back seat, and wired them up to the battery in the boot, which also synchronises the firework display on the roof. Then I put some loud speakers in the wheels and painted a dolphin on the bonnet. It is my vision for this car, and it is realised. Though I wish the Parisian authorities had allowed me more fireworks. I wanted to use nine hundred and seventy six, but, as usual, with all their official talk, they argued against this. Eventually we arrived at a compromise figure of: one. I have rigged it up to a small button on the steering wheel, and I let it off when I park. Sometimes the bin men applaude, which gives me an enormous sense of satisfaction.

Tuesday.

I spent all day working on a new sound. It sort of goes: 'pnnnneeewwwnik'. It took me ages to get right. Before lunchtime, all I had was 'pnik'. I thought that was alright for a while. It was fun, pressing the same key lots of times: 'pnik', 'pnik', 'pnik'. But that got boring after a while and I began to wonder if I was on the right track at all. Then, at about eleven, I had a brainwave. 'What if...', I thought, ' What if .... I add a bit of "eeeewwwww" '. Of course, the idea struck me as absurd at first. I mean, no one had done it before. The standard wisdom is that you never add "eeeewwww" to "pnik".. but I just thought, 'why not, Jeanny boy, lets get back to the old innovative style they all say you've lost'. So I tried it out, and I was stunned. I worked on it all afternoon and finally recorded it at five thirty. Then I went home and tied a lemon to the hat stand.


Wednesday


Back in the studio again. Michel Geiss popped in. I played him my new sound.
'So, what do you reckon to it Micheal'?
I asked..
After a long pause, he said
'You know what that sounds like, Jean, me old mucker?'
(Not many people know this, but Michel Geiss is actually a cockney and an old friend of Frank Butcher)
'What?'
'That ... Jean ... sounds like a duck, imploding.'
Well, I have to say, I was a bit dissapointed to hear this, which made me all the happier when Michel said:
'But, Jean, it has potential. Tell you what, shove it through a flange-bearer, up the gubnuggets a bit, tweak off the sondle-droppings, and you might have the makings of a nice sound there, mate'
Well, I was lost. Michel always loses me when he goes off on one. So I just gave him my hammer and told him to fix it up how he likes. He's happy to do that if I buy him some Mr. Kipling cakes. I figured I'd take a half day then. Get the ironing done.

Thursday

Punks outside my window again. Throwing oranges and shouting "Jean-Michel Jarre is a yo yo". What they don't realise is that in four thousand years time, when we're invaded by aliens, the punks will all be eaten. Because that's what they are. Alien food. Me, on the other hand, well, they'll defrost me and probably ask me to make nice shopping music for them to listen to. And I will do that, and I will put in subliminal messages, saying 'eat more punks, punks are delicious, yum yum, you love them'. That's what I'll do. I will, too. I mean it.

Friday

A new postman came this morning.

'Hey,' he said
'You're that bloke, aren't you, the one that did that song ... the what's it called, how does it go now...'
' Dum de da da dum? ' I asked wearily.
'Yeah, thats the one. Brilliant. Whats it called?'
'Its called 'Oxygene Part Four' and it is part of a suite that I composed, in order to convay, through sonic means the...'
'Yeah, thats it, Oxygen. Dum de da da dum. Brilliant that. Anyway, here's your letter'

The letter turned out to be from the Nasty-Under-Dollop village rotary club and women's ribbon weaving institution. They wanted to know if I would be available to do a concert next week, as it was the fiftieth anniversary of the occasion when one of the Queen's corgies was found wandering around the village pond. They said that Cliff Richard had offered to do it for free, but they'd much rather have me there because Mrs Roberts from the bakery loves fireworks. I wrote back to them immediately telling them I would be delighted to come and that I would need thirty thousand fireworks, two hundred light projectors, fifteen million wind turbines, seventeen high-rise tower blocks and a stage the size of a football field. Then I had a go at the sink with some Mr. Muscle.

Deckchair mate, that was rubbish. My cat could do better, and it uses a stick to write with. And I like JMJ. He did our christmas tree lights last year, and you could see them from Tierra del Fuego.

Well, pal, if I ever meet your cat, I'll tell it where to put that stick, then eh? eh? eh? eh?

Are you suggesting that you insert a stick into one of my cat's many orifaces?

Yes. And a space hopper too.

Right, pal, outside..

I didnt post after you first posted the article but now youve started talking to yourself I have to butt in!

GET A GRIP!

Hath
x

It was a lower case slap so it shouldnt of hurt!

"bandages anyone?"

"fish anyone?"

ehhh..

oh.

Hello Hath. Nice morning isn't it? I am perfectly normal thank you. Yes. How are you?

"Puncture repair kit anyone?"

I like your definition of normal its somewhere close the the same borders I frequent... and it is a particularly fine day!

Couldnt quite work out who won the fight but at a guess your the only one still standing so i think you won -- didnt you?

Hath
x

I think I did. The cat never really stood a chance.

See, I post these things every week and hardly anyone says anything at all. No replies, week after week. So, last week, I figured, I'd reply. Then I had to reply to myself. Then the cat turned up .. you know how these things go..

See never can trust a cat to keep its mouth shut when it needs to. Offered a tasty titbit a cat will often sell its soul and a few others with it.

Well, I certainly wouldn't put one in charge of a nuclear submarine, that's for sure.

Must run. Work to do. Suppose I should do some. Just a little bit.

"So Dr. Get any work done today?"
"Well, no, I just talked to myself about cats and spacehoppers"..

Of course, Tony Blair probably does this too, but he is prime minister and can get away with that sort of thing.

This is a bit spooky, isn't it, what with DaSilva kicking off a limerick about Jean Michel Jarre only yesterday. Is it International JMJ Day and nobody told me?

Anyway, excellent journal grunting. I hope your cuts & bruises are beginning to heal, after the above scene from Fight Club.

Shhhh!!! The first rule of fight club is...


I agree about the journal entry... I don't think its International Jean-Michel Jarre day today. That's only on Wednesdays.

Thanks for the feedback

Who is Jean-Michel Jarre? Are we making fun of a real person?

Hi JEllen.
Jean-Michel Jarre is a musician who works with electronics and keyboards. His most famous album is "Oxygene", which made him an instant millionare. He is hugely popular still, and now plays enormous outdoor concerts. In the USA he played a concert on Huston. Not in Huston, on Huston. He used the skyline for the light projections. Contrary to appearances, I am, in fact, a huge fan of his. I am not so much making fun of him as pointing out gentle ironies about what he does. I will go and get a link for you, hang on..