Happy Towel Day everyone!
If you have ever read any of my writing, it’s possible that you have already guessed one of my biggest influences – the genius that was Douglas Adams.
Now, if any of you haven’t read the epic masterpiece that is “The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”, seriously, what have you been doing with your life?! Get to the nearest bookshop, buy it, and prepare to laugh. A lot.
The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide is unlike any other book I’ve ever read in my life, in terms of originality, imagination, silliness and compulsiveness. The characters are brilliant and ridiculous, the places they go to are brilliant and ridiculous and the storyline, surprisingly, is brilliant and ridiculous. And despite Adams’ undeniable silliness, it is also unbelievably clever. Anyway, if you’ve read it then well done, you know this already.
The 25th of May is Towel Day and is celebrated in honour of Douglas Adams’ life and works. I hope you are carrying a towel and that it’s still clean enough for drying yourself.
As Hitch-Hiker’s fans will know, Vogon poetry is the third worst in the known universe. This is a Vogon.
To celebrate Towel Day, I’ve posted some Vogon Poetry which was written by the HHG’s main character, Arthur Dent. In a bizarre slice of luck this was delivered to me a couple of years ago by the white mouse who lives in a box of porridge in my kitchen cupboard. It contains “in jokes”, terrible humour and poor rhythm. That’s just the way it is. Under no circumstances should you read this poetry aloud – unless you work in Guantanamo Bay that is.
Ode to My Lifetime Achievements At This Particular Point in Time Through the Dubious Media of Vogon Poetry – by Arthur Dent
I like hitch-hiking round the galaxy
So I thought I’d write some poetry
Vogon in nature, I hope you I’ll agree
Or I’ll grubble your fruncheons and cut down your tree.
I said before, that I like to travel
I don’t, but I prefer it to gravel.
I like to hit crabs on the head with a gavel
Shouting “Resistance is useless!” as their brains do unravel.
I’m not a Vogon, I’m really a man
A man not a girl like Trillian
She’s a girl I met in Islington
At a party where she left with a two headed man.
Then those wretched Vogon’s destroyed my home
And ever since I’ve been forced to roam.
And roam I do, though not to Rome
Cos Rome’s not there any more.
You’re getting bored so I’ll write faster
So far it’s borderline disaster
I’m desperate for a gargle blaster
Although they hurt the morning after.
Last time it got me really pished
I tripped and lost my babel fish
Tout en parlent avec Eccentrica Gallumbits
I was seeing quintuple, that’s fifteen tits!
Marvin doubts that story’s true
So flumbly grumbles and slimbly poo
I hope you’ve got your towel with you
Go enjoy your life and it’s forty two.
If any of you have got this far, you’re obviously big fans of THHGTTG. If so, you probably like my sense of humour and might enjoy my book, In That Other Dimension.