[Hereford Eye]

This planet does not play fair. We know that. It’s part of the rules and a man can learn to live with and break the rules if he’s any kind of man at all. And a renaissance man like myself, who is also Ambassador, can rise above his gibbering mass of self-delusion to create the one thing in the universe a true gibipip cannot abide; poetry in the nonsensical fashion. Humanity has a long and sparkling history with this obscure art form beginning with the greatest of the early practitioners, Edward Lear. Yes, I think he will serve me nicely. Substituting gratuitously, I begin to chant to my very own gibipip:

“How pleasant to know Old MacDonald.
Who has written such volumes of stuff
Some think him ill-tempered and flawed
But a few think him pleasant enough.

His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard resembles a wig.

He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
Leastways if you reckon two thumbs,
Long ago he was one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.

His sits in a beautiful study,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of martinis,
But never gets tipsy at all.

He has many friends, laymen and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.

When he walks in a waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out: “He’s come out in his night-
Gown, that crazy Ambassador, oh!

He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill.
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

He reads but he cannot read Spanish,
He will not journey to Macassar;
For the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know the Ambassador.

The gibipip is not “only human”; it is a higher life form able to withstand only so much from its nemesis. The first words it speaks to itself are:

Don’t Panic!

Don't panic!

Don't panic!

The last seen of the gibipip, it headed for the space port, all six of its thumbs extended asking if anyone knew how to get to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

[Rocket Sheep]

It was picked up by a passing solar sailed schooner riding high on the solar waves. The Captain of the vessel was an eccentric old fool with a passion for martini and strawberry lipstick. He offered to let the Gipibib work off his passage as a lipstick maintenance officer but soon found out the Gipibib was all thumbs and, tired of sucking lipstick off the crews ears and having to apply it to his own glass rim, put Gipibib off at the nearest space port.

[Hereford Eye]

Have invited Goosna to my office to tell her of the wonderful news. Visualizing in advance, my mirth knows no bounds even when I temper it with a martini.
At the allotted time she appears in my doorway decked out in her ministerial best which is to say the kind of colors last seen in a madras t-shirt.
“My dear friend and fellow architect of of governmental bliss,” I say, rising and bowing to her eminence.
“Cut, it, Mac. Just give me the poop straight.”
“In order to maintain your status as protectorate vice a full fledged member of the Federation – no this week they are calling it the Beneficient Suzerainty – you must demonstrate an inability to perform the duties of a full fledged member.”
“How do we do that?”
“You demonstrate (a) civil liberties in excess of the accepted norm, (b) lack of a military in any of its three major and four minor manifestations, and (c) a deficit of trade material. You must try not to have any exploitable resources and you must be willing to accept four cable and four planetary holovision networks.”
“I thought you said we had a problem.”
“You have 16 hours left of the normal 90 day submission period.”
“Why do we have only 16 hours.”
“The mail just arrived on the slow boat from New China.”

[Rocket Sheep]

"OK, calm down, calm down, calm down!" Goosna cried, tentacles waving.

MacDonald shrugged. "I am calm."

"Sorry, I wasn't talking to you."

MacDonald looked around the room suspiciously. He always had the feeling there were other dimensions on this planet he couldn't quite grasp. He'd see flickers from the corner of his eye but when he turned to face them, they'd vanish.

"We have (a) covered. We demonstrate piles of excessive civil liberties on a daily basis. Get me last night's news visuals. You know, the ones where the Nightmares were surfing on the backs of the unbaptised Scrog sprogs."

"What? Where?" MacDonald shook his head.

Goosna smiled. "Oh sorry, not you."

MacDonald looked around the room again. He tried turning his head quickly but the other dimensions evaded him once more.

Goosna moved on to the next point. "The definitions of the manifestations of military... do you know what they are?"

MacDonald spun his head in a full circle dragging his body with it... no good.

"Mr Ambassador! Pay attention!"

MacDonald startled. "You were talking to me?"

"Yes."

"OK... er... yes, I know what they are."

"Does it say anything about Miniature Giant Green Squid People or the Shape-Changing Frilly Amoeba as being acceptable military personnel?"

"Me?"

Goosna nodded.

"Er... no. Funnily enough it doesn't mention those species at all."

Goosna beamed. All 5 of her eyes sparked happily.

MacDonald leaped out of range. "I guess that just leaves (c)."

Goosna wilted. "Trade deficit? Well, there is too much to hide... I'VE GOT IT! Mr Ambassador, Dahhhhhling... you just have to convince Earth to buy it all from us and we'll store it here."

MacDonald paled. "JUST? But how? But... they won't go for it... Why me?"

"Always so negative!" Goosna turned a deep red colour and seemed to swell. "Can't you just once give something a go? I've come up with all the plans so far... can't you just do this one small thing?" Goosna began to give off heat and loomed over MacDonald who felt like he was shrinking. "JUST SAY YOU'LL TRY!"

"I'll try..."

[Hereford Eye]

A quick chat with the State Department reveals the end of the fiscal year spending crunch is on us. The Beneficient Suzerainty budget process involves not spending any money all year long in case there is a funding shortfall at the end of the year and then spending like crazy at the end of the year to justify next year’s budget. State’s budget this year was $397 trillion – it's a big galaxy you know. They want to hit the magic quadrillion next year but they found they have 97 trillion they must spend within the next three days.
Convincing them to purchase Goosna’s GNP is not enough challenge to work up a martini over. They ask what I estimate the cost is, I tell them no more than five or six billion. They subspace me a check for an even trillion. What I don’t use can go to the Embassy’s holiday party.

[Rocket Sheep]

Ahhhh and what a party it was. PM Goosna in her finest surely is a sight to see.... just not too often.

Once MacDonald found a pair of sunglasses he felt a lot more comfortable and even had a bit of a twirl with the lovely Goosna. It certainly was memorable especially when Goosna broke her stride momentarily and delivered 46 offspring on the dance floor.

Once MacDonald came around he was quite taken with the tiny beasts. He was especially enthralled at the way they bounced on his knee, nibbled his fingers and called him Dadda.

[Hereford Eye]

The briefing upon arrival spoke distinctly and clearly about making first impressions, that you should avoid them at all costs. MacDonald forgot. Now he had impressed 36 little natives. In fact, he had impressed so well they all considered him their father.
The mother, of course, is much relieved that all 36 have a father to support them now that she had done her part. She bore the kids; the daddy can take over now.
MacDonald finds himself with 36 babies crawling over him look for a sweet spot to nurse.
You do not arrive at the nadir of a career as a Planetary Ambassador without having demonstrated an ability to think quickly. Thinking quickly, the Ambassador says a general prayer for relief. “Flurst, help me!” is the text he chooses. Flurst, a beneficent deity, responds immediately. The 36 little babies each finds it own little niche on MacDonald’s person from which to nurse.
There is an element at the party who find this public nursing unseemly and in poor taste. But, it is the Ambassador’s billions they are soaking up so they keep their opinions mostly to themselves.

[Rocket Sheep]

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until mastitis set in and MacDonald had to be packed in chilled cabbage leaves.

Looking down fondly at his 36 offspring toddling about on 180 chubby little tentacles he was almost sure it was worth the agony... and then he began to wonder... what happened to the other ten Goosna babies?

[Hereford Eye]

This little ditty became the most popular drinking song on the continent not to mention merry olde and the places on the other side of the world. Some say it should be accompanied by a full symphony orchestra. Some say it's best left alone.

Ten little Goosnas left without a dad
Run across the dance floor feeling very sad.
One gets tromped on by a friend of mine.
Ten little Goosnas now reduced to nine.

Nine little Goosnas seeking nourishment
Climb up the table to the condiments
One finds the chili and it becomes its fate
To reduce the count of Goosnas down to number eight.

Eight little Goosnas are seeking a new parent
Discover the sandwich bin almost completely barren.
One finds a bit of bread that hasn’t any leaven
The dryness parches it; now they are seven.

Seven little Goosnas getting very thirsty
Gather all together in a pitcher of iced tea.
Most leave quite quickly but one is in a fix
The ice has undone it, now there are six.

Six little Goosnas still out looking for a dad
Stumble cross the table to an absolute tightwad.
He figures what they’re after and he knows what it will cost.
Now the five who run from him are totally lost.

Five little Goosnas experiencing their loss
Find themselves now hiding in a patch of moaning moss.
They ask the moss for help to find a suitable father,
After tasting one the moss replies: “You really shouldn’t bother.”

Four little Goosnas dash madly from the snacker
Feeling that their situation cannot be any blacker.
They meet a traveling salesperson about to make her tour
She sells to one its own pet cat; now there are four.
Old guys lose track pretty easy, you know.

Three little Goosnas on the road that leaves this town
Do not see the vehicle tamping the dirt down.
The number of the Goosnas swift enough to shoo
Sadly can be counted no higher than just two.

Two little Goosnas disturbed that there aren’t three
Wonder how it all came down to us, just you and me.
Debating issues deep like this is quite extraordinary fun
They should have done it on the curb ‘cause now they’re down to one.

One little Goosna, the last of any sibling,
Cries its little Goosna tears while it starts to nibbling
A moaning moss quite unaware of being dined upon
Till moss and Goosna find at last that now there’s truly none.

[Rocket Sheep]

And as the song rose up thru the charts for no other reason than it is one of those 'get stuck in your head and annoy the **** out of you' songs, Flurst uncursed the curse of Flurst and using all his powers he got a little sheep in a galaxy far far away to boldy go where no sheep has been before... to Clarion South! :D