Vogons are basically as evil as Al Qaeda.

[MikeG]

Especially their poetry.

[mr_hat]

1. Thought?

[Emboldened Chimp]

2. Did someone say Vogon poetry?

See, see the distraught sky
Marvel at its big orange depths.
Tell me, Paul do you
Wonder why the chicken ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel groggy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your junimel facial growth
That looks like
A milk.
What's more, it knows
Your boink potting shed
Smells of pea.
Everything under the big distraught sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm feets.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/vogonpoetry/lettergen.shtml?redirect=displaypreview&toName=MIke&toEmail=[e-mail]&mother=distraught&rude=boink&green=pea&fridge=milk&animal=chicken&colour=orange&friend=Paul&x=171&y=24&morning=groggy&madeup=junimel&smell=feet

[MikeG]

3. Gaaaa!!!

[Emboldened Chimp]

4. Oh, you like Vogon poetry? Here's another....

Oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously dranle me with crinkly brindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my
blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!

[LiberalEsto]

5. More!

Bravo!

--Vogonzilla

[Emboldened Chimp]

7. That's what I like to hear!

Gashee morphousite, thou expungiest quoopisk!
Fripping lyshus wimbgunts, awhilst moongrovenly kormzibs.
Bleem miserable venchit! Bleem forever mestinglish asunder frapt!
Gerond withoutitude form into formless bloit, why not then? Moose.

[miss_kitty]

8. "Smells of pea." Smells of PEA?

:wtf:

[MrSlayer]

6. Ode to a small green lump of putty I found in my armpit one midsummer morn

"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 Flatulent 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 hemorrhaging, and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived only by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos is reported to have been 'disappointed' by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his twelve book epic 'My Favorite Bathtime Gurgles' when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, leapt straight up through his throat 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."