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.

19 seconds sound clip from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1981) - Episode 2 sitcom.

You can hear this line at 00:03:30.135 in the Blu-ray version of the TV Series.

Quote context

[...]

- Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone, the Earth was unexpectedly demolished, to make way for a hyper-space bypass, and so the idea was last forever.

- Meanwhile, Arthur Dent has escaped from the Earth in the company of a friend of his, who has unexpectedly turned out to be from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and not from Guildford after all.

- 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.

[...]