12 seconds sound clip from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1981) - Episode 2 sitcom.
You can hear this line at 00:03:56.870 in the Blu-ray version of the TV Series.
Quote context
[...]
- His name is Ford Prefect, for reasons which are unlikely to become clear again at the moment,
- And they are currently hiding in the storeroom of 3 Vegan spaceship.
- What the hell is that?
- If we're lucky, it's a Vogon guard come to throw us into space.
- And if we are unlucky?
- The Vogon captain might want to read us some of his poetry first.
- Oh, freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me as plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee that mordiously hath blurted out its earted jurtles into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer.
- Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles are slurping hagrilly up the..
- Vogon poetry is, of course, the third worse 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 haemorrhaging.
- And the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council only survived 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 12-book epic entitled, Zen and the Art of Going to the Lavatory...
- When his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save lifekind, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.
- The very worst poetry of all, and its creator, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings, of Greenbridge, Essex, England, perished in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.
[...]
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