mr. L. prosser

oh how i love this book.

"i'm afraid you're going to have to accept it," sair mr. prosser, gripping his fur hat and rolling it round the top of his head; "this bypass has got to be built, and it's going to be built!"

"first i've heard of it," said arthur, "why's it got to be built?"

mr. prosser shook his finger at him for a bit, then stopped and put it away again.

"what do you mean, why's it got to be built?" he said. "it's a bypass. you've got to build bypasses."

bypasses are devices that allow some people to dash from point A to point B very fast while other people dash from point B to point A very fast. people living at point C, being a point directly in between, are often given to wonder what's so great about point A that so many people from point B are so keen to get there, and what's so great about point B that so many people from point A are so keen to get there. they often wish that people would just once and for all work out where the hell they wanted to be.

mr. prosser wanted to be at point D. point D wasn't anywhere in particular, it was just any convenient point a very long way from points A, B, and C. he would have a nice little cottage at point D, with axes over the door, and spend a pleasant amount of time at point E, which would be the nearest pub to point D. his wife of course wanted climbing roses, but he wanted axes. he didn't know why-he just liked axes. he flushed hotly under the derisive grins of the bulldozer drivers.

o the digression. douglas adams is amazing. such a digression is something even the driscolls cannot do.