r_scribbles | Nov. 17th, 2006

Right. So far I'm doing:

Al (QL) for The Katie - DONE
Lynda (PG) for Miss C
Ford Prefect (H2G2) for Sealy - DONE
Sawyer (Lost) for Scarlett
Lister (RD) for Donna
Zoidberg (Futurama) for Demimonde.
Either Jayne or The Operative (Serenity) for La Squeen

Any more for any more?

UPS/Lynx/Whoever the hell is supposed to be delivering our carseat continue to be utterly shit. Shall complain to Mothercare tonight if they don't get it delivered today - the service is just appalling.

I have a hankering for salt & vinegar Hula Hoops.

BTW I really recommend this week's edition of ISIHAC on Radio 4's Listen Again service. Jeremy Hardy is the guest and his & Tim's alternate word 'letter' from Davros to Dr Who (near the end of the show) had me absolutely crying with laughter

For Sealgirl -

Ford Prefect.

Ford smiled his usual wide smile as the camera flashed at him and Arthur. He thanked the German student who had taken the picture for them and slung the clunky instant camera back around his neck. He took the small, sticky square of paper from the bottom of the machine and shook it a little, being careful not to let it fly out of his fingers in the high wind. God, he loved Earth technology. It was so gloriously rustic.

The photo image started to appear. Ford found himself looking at an alien face, with skin that looked just a little too tight and teeth that looked just a little too sharp. The face was smiling wildly but only from nose to chin. There was no joy in the eyes, only distance - the impossible distance and void of space. They were the eyes of one who had been under a strange star for much too long. There was no way he could possibly pass for human, he ruminated, yet somehow he did. The man in the image beside him was wearing an even faker smile - Arthur couldn't hide the fact that he was cold, wet, miserable and terrified of heights.

Ford looked from the photograph to the real Arthur, who still looked sodden and unhappy.
'How are you doing there, Arthur?'
Arthur nodded, faintly, gripping the wire mesh around the walkway and staring down at a now miniscule Paris. 'Do you think we might be able to find our hotel from up here?'
'Well,' replied Ford, 'we certainly can't find it for the life of us down at street level.'
Arthur grimaced 'God, I hate being lost.'
'We'll go down in a minute,' conceded Ford, 'see if we can't get a nice cup of tea or something.'
He turned away from Arthur and rummaged through his bag.
'I feel ill,' said Arthur. 'I've been up this damn tower four times now and every time it's been raining and I've felt ill.'
Ford smiled to himself. 'Then why did you take me?'
'Well, you kept on banging on about it,' replied Arthur, 'it was all I could do to get some piece and quiet.'
Ford laughed a little. That's what it was to be friends with a Human. They'll do the most amazing things for you and then complain about it for the rest of their little lives. He took out the beaconing device and looked at it. His chuckle stopped, and turned into a scowl. Still nothing. Belgium. On top of one of the biggest radio transmitters on the planet and still not even a Zarking blip. He was going to be stuck here forever, wasn't he? He was going to be stuck on this tiny, backwards world for the rest of his days. He could see it.

Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. 'You all right, Ford?'
Ford turned to his friend sharply, stuffing the useless gadget back into his bag. 'Fine, Arthur. Fine. I'm a bit cold. Shall we go down?'
'I thought you'd never ask.' Arthur blew on his wet, freezing fingers.
'Thanks for bringing me here, Arthur,' said Ford.
Arthur shrugged. 'You'll have to take me somewhere one of these days to make up for it.'
Ford just smiled his wide, dead smile again. 'I'll get us both a nice cup of tea.'