Vogon poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatuelent of his poem 'Ode To A Small Lump of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning', four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his legs off. Grunthos is reported to have been 'disappointed' by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on reading his twelve-book epic My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles when his major intenstine, in a desperate attempt to safe life and civilisation, leapt up through his neck and throttled his brain.
The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England in the destruction of the planet Earth.
Chapter 7,The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (published 1979).
The thing I love about Hitchhiker is that it is written in such a way that certain words jump out at you and surprise you so you can't stop laughing. Like in this excerpt, the choice of the word 'intenstine' rather than some other organ makes the picture twice as ridiculous in my mind. It really does crack me up! And then that the audience died of internal haemorrhaging of all things justs suits perfectly the occasion, don't you think? His wording is part of his wit.
Ps. This post is to make up for what I didn't say last night, so you might even like to expect another one following close on its heels tonight. Take care.