Vogon Poetry

Poetry, well written, can be a spiritually uplifting experience. Badly written, it can be an experience of buttock-clenching horror.

The third worst poetry in the universe is written by Vogons, and frequently used as a form of torture.

The absolute worst poetry was written by Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings. It involved decaying swans. Luckily, it was destroyed during the demolition of the Earth.

Examples of good, if long, poetry can be heard on the planet of Golgafrincham, home to the great circling poets of Arium.

Printed within this booklet is a sample of one the better Vogon Poems

An example of one of the worst was to be included, but the printer of this publication preferred to strangle himself rather than run the risk of reading it.)

Guide Description:

"Vogons are one of the most unpleasant races in the galaxy. Not evil, but bad-tempered, bureaucratic, officious and callous. They wouldn't even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal without orders signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public inquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters. On no account should you allow a Vogon to read poetry to you."

Ode To Something In The Fridge

See, see the fluffy sky

Marvel at its big pink depths.

Tell me, bob do you

Wonder why the scot ignores you?

Why its foobly stare

makes you feel tired.

I can tell you, it is

Worried by your volfuk facial growth

That looks like

A mould.

What's more, it knows

Your pinky potting shed

Smells of puss.

Everything under the big fluffy sky

Asks why, why do you even bother?

You only charm armpits.

  See, see the jelly sky

Marvel at its big brown and grey depths.

Tell me, freddy monstar do you

Wonder why the belguim ignores you?

Why its foobly stare

makes you feel frigledoff.

I can tell you, it is

Worried by your dranfackmungledun facial growth

That looks like

A beansoup pie

What's more, it knows

Your frigging potting shed

Smells of snotball.

Everything under the big jelly sky

Asks why, why do you even bother?

You only charm my cats.

See, see the dead sky

Marvel at its big lavendar depths.

Tell me, jahosafat do you

Wonder why the froog ignores you?

Why its foobly stare

makes you feel smelly.

I can tell you, it is

Worried by your pakeyu facial growth

That looks like

A sausage.

What's more, it knows

Your humped potting shed

Smells of elf.

Everything under the big dead sky

Asks why, why do you even bother?

You only charm crotchs.