Monday, 18 November 2013

News from the Stars

Scene: The Ice Palace on Planet Zerxon198 in the Galaxy of Cadberry where the Light-Cruiser Gallifrey has just returned from a 2000 year voyage of inter-Galaxial discovery. The Zerxon198 ruler, Gok1254, is receiving his firstborn son, Gok1256, who led the expedition in search of a new planet to colonise - their own planet was in the grip of terminal decline caused by the over-indulgence in Quantitive Easing.

Gok1254: Hailings, mon loin-fruit of adventuring! And pray let me aurally learn of the planetry summary thy doings hath done these past two millennia?

Son: Can't you just talk like the other Dads, Father? I have had a long and arduous journey and there was a time-drive replacement ship service on the Milky Way.

Gok1254: But sooth dear son-of-sons! What of the new planet you mentioned in despatches on the Unisphere? (nb like the Twittersphere but more intelligent). What of this Green-Blue Planet called - Erith?

Son: It's Earth, Dad. Erith is a hell-hole in the quantum Kentland marches. But the bad news is that Earth is
entirely unsuitable for colonisation. It is peopled by the strangest of creatures who are unintelligent, ungovernable and largely inedible.

Gok1254: But its prospectus in monitorisation looked so promising? What of your visit? It was assumed that the peoples of the Earth would be cloned from this Professor Briancox character of D-Ream? The one with the shiny face and teeth?

Son: No father. We visited on a diurnal inclusion they call the Day of Sat and the populace were mindlessly
worshipping a very unusual deity called Broo-C. It was part of a local ceremony called "Stictly Come Dancing" for reasons that nobody appears to know.

Gok1254: But what entaileth thus?

Son: Broo-C is actually the oldest individual on Earth and has the most distincive chin which has kept growing under a scheme known as "the Re-generation Game". He intones bland wordplay to a camera-device and the populace moans and groans in ecstasy. At that point, two much younger earthlings perform a ritual of ornate artistry around the floor whilst their life-partners look on in feined happiness - they do this to a cacophony of noise produced by the dreaded "Dave Arch and his Wonderful Orchestra" and an embarrassed individual in a pork pie hat.

After this ritual, four great Gods pass judgment from their pulpit.

The first of these, a monobrowed monopod called Horrid, intones a negative mantra concerning "heel turns" and evokes a general mumur of wrath.
The next God is actually a Goddess, the Princess of Darkly Bustling, who always speaks in a rising intonation and is always concerned about the "top line".
Thirdly, the God of Len appears to believe he is in charge because he looks like a cross between the elderly
Broo-C and one of the ritual cavorters, Anton Du-Sickbag. He intones about "illegal lifts" then flashes a "smile" which would kill at 25 metres.
Finally a small Gollum-Creature on the end of the pulpit stands on his chair and screams gibberish to the throng until he actually falls over.

I think you had to be there father.

Gok1254: No way, Hose. What was on X-Factor?

11 comments:

Mike and Ann said...

Rog, you confirm our decision not to have a telly in the place.
We once watched the programme under discussion (I think) when staying with a daughter. Couldn't make much of it- and really don't want to see it again.
Gosh - I think I might be sounding curmudgeonly again!!!

Rosemarie Blackthorn said...

Don't watch it. Not interested.

As soon as there's public acclimation for a tv show, I switch over and wait for it to come out on DVD.

Z said...

Having just watched Masterchef and now gazing at the divine Gareth, I'm in no position to be lofty about popular television.

Sir Bruin said...

I feel that the following extract of Vogon poetry courtesy of Douglas Adams would be appropriate:
”O freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
As plured gabbleblochits on a lurgid bee.
Groop, I implore thee my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurlecruncheon, see if I don’t.”

by Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz

Rog said...

Mike: It's all armoury and leggery! You can carry off curmudgeonly with wit and style my good chap!

Roses: You'll have been queing up at blockbusters for the Betamex then? ;-)

Z: Never seen Divine Gareth. He could join the Strictly Deity in the pulpit.

Sir B: Adams offering a passing not to Professor Stanley Unwin there I feel. As Zaphod once said - Two heads are better than one.

Pat said...

I reckon that's a fair description without wanting to confrontate anyone.

Liz said...

Anyone reading this could be forgiven for thinking that you don't enjoy 'Strictly', Rog. Of course, I couldn't possibly comment (nudge nudge, wink wink etc).

Horrid is my favourite judge - he's the only one who does not over mark the pretty earthling who is married to the alien creature masquerading as a footballer.

John Greenwood said...

You're mad! ;-)

Rog said...

Pat: You are wise and perceptive!

Liz: It's one of the best programmes on TV Liz as you well know! I have a strange admiration for Horrid which I couldn't possibly admit to in public.

John: I know :-(

mig bardsley said...

Well now I don't have to be there, thank you Rog. This is so much better than watching it (and I know because I did, once).

Nota Bene said...

What ever happened to sitting down and watching that lovely Jackanory, Magic Roundabout and Crossroads?