There's a nudist colony in my trousers.
If you can call two legs a colony.
The Forever Digest
Not affiliated to the Secret Garden or the Magical Tree
Space, on the face of it, is big. But as we grow, it gets smaller. Or does it? No, it doesn't. We just take up more of it, walking into each other on the High Street and catching the backs of each other's shoes as we walk. Women wear higher shoes, to get them away from terrifyingly tiny mice.

The weary Northern Comic has a few things to say about women...
(the weary Northern Comic is brought to you by the letters B and M, and the colour Orange)

God, aren't women strange? Shoving tampons up themselves, and making the dinner. VAT on tampons? Too right. If shoving cotton up yourself to prevent nature taking its course isn't a luxury, I don't know what is. If they were made out of emery boards, fair enough, but they're not - they're designed to be comfortable, and comfort is a luxury where I come from. I had to buy cushions when me piles dropped, didn't I? Mind, those tampons do look a bit like dynamite, don't they? What with that piece of string coming out, like a wick. I say we swap all the tampons in the world for sticks out dynamite, blow up their chuffs. God, I haven't had sex in four years. I hate women. Stuck up bitches, with their vibrators all over the place, left right and especially centre.... slags.

So, if you're travelling through space, you'll need a spaceship, NO WOMEN ('cos they smell and can't do three point turns), and a full knowledge of the many space phenomena out there.
Picture the universe. Think of it in terms of a magnetised pin. Hide the pin in your house. Then hide five billion more magnetised pins in your house, and invite a friend over to tea. He won't see the pins. He won't even know they are there. Now invite another friend to tea - one with a metal skull. By observing the effects of the magnetic pins on this guest, we can guage the effects of space. The metal skull is the Earth, the pins are humans, and you are a fast spaceship. Your first guest is Brian Blessed, if you're lucky - and the second, if you look closely, was Dennis Hopper in disguise, all the time! 

Time travel happens all the time in space. Meet yourself, impregnate your mother, dance the Temporal Tango with specially programmed PleasureBots. All that load of arse.  But it's not all PleasureBots and Temporal Tangos in time travel, enormous time dogs run along the strands linking here and then, eating gigagrass and puking up anomalies and paradoxes. My advice - don't do it. It's a whole load of shit, you'll end up fucked.

And for God's sake. Shagging your own mother, you sick bitch.

A : Let's out the Pope.
B : Is the Pope gay?
A : Sorry, I said "let out the Pope". He's been scratching at the Pope Flap for half an hour.
B : There you go, Popesy.
[The Pope rears up on his hind legs and lets rip]

I wouldn't bother. When you get there, you just end up on the other side, but you're inside out and your brain falls all over your face. It's like those people with cleft palates - how come their brains don't drop onto their tongues? Ace. I bet brains taste like the hard bits on old jelly.

Both are big space things - they both send out stroboscopic beams of power, that can have big effects on other things. But pulsars are green, and quasars are red. Therefore, pulsars are Good, like Luke Skywalker's lightsabre, and quasars are bad, a la Darth Vader's. Rumours of other coloured lightsabres have been verified, but space boffins have yet to think of names for the corresponding space phenomenon.

Space bubbles are tiny bubbles in space. They are spat out by dying stars, in the hope that one of the bubbles will graft onto a planet whose ecological structure can support kippers. Space bubbles are tiny little holes; their uses include - but are not limited to - holes on the top of pepper mills (if 15 bubbles are shaped into the letter "P"), and they can be used by people with no faces to help them breath.

I've got the hump,
And you can't have it.
Hey baby, what's the crack?
Apart from your gulchy twot, that is.
Sometimes, but not very often
You say something worthwhile.
Make it today.

Using suction alone, you can cure me.
I used to have pottery wombles,
But the doctor prescribed a cream.

Don't do that - it's dirty, and I don't like it.
Put it away, you don't know where it's been.
Ah, but I think you do.
And that's the problem.

Whee! I am sliding - riding the White Swan.
It's not as much fun as I though it would be.
Riding the White Swan is definitely overrated.