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| Looking For A Decent Cup of Tea
It’s been quite a time for me recently – my planet has
been blown up, I found out my best friend is an alien, I heard dreadful poetry
from something called a Vogon, and now I’m on a stolen spaceship with the
President of the Galaxy.
There are more important things right now than for me to
keep writing in this blog so this will be my final post - I’m off to find a cup
of tea on this blasted spaceship. | | |
| Meeting Marvin
Marvin seems to be the only being on board the ship who
is more unhappy with the current circumstances than myself. As if meeting my
first talking robot wasn’t shocking enough, finding out that he is chronically
depressed was quite off-putting. I have to agree with him about these smug
doors though – I prefer the ones back on Earth that don’t talk to you or take
any pleasure in opening.
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| Meeting Zaphod
If this is the type of character that gets elected
President of the Galaxy, maybe I should have stayed on Earth. Not only is he an
arrogant dim wit, but he somehow managed to whisk away the girl of my dreams. I
should have known he was not human when he told her at the party “I'm from a
different planet.” What kind of line is that?
I mean, look at his campaign video for crying out loud?
http://www.media-file.net/hhgg/zaphod.mov
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| Meeting Trillian aboard the HOG
Who would have thought that all I needed to do to see the
girl of my dreams again was find out my friend was an alien, hitch a ride on a
Vogon constructor fleet to escape the destruction of Earth, be tossed from that
ship into space only to be picked up by a stolen ship driven by the President
of the Galaxy.
Of course, I also find out that the President of the
Galaxy happens to be that nitwit from the party. What could she possibly see in
that two headed, half-brained nincompoop?
But she is lovely isn't she?

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| Vogon Poetry
The guide assures me that Vogon poetry is the third worst
in the Galaxy. However I can’t imagine anything more vile and painful than
listening to a Vogon’s attempts to use “plurdled gabbleblotchits” in a rhyming
stanza. Ford appeared to writhe in pain even more than I – maybe because he
understood everything they were actually saying. | | |
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