After promising to close the Diary, I got messages from (all?) four of my readers imploring me not to.
The Trovatore family is nothing if not loyal.
So I'm re-encouraged.

All four of them (you?) will know by now that I have no remit for the Vogons from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
For a peculiar reason I tend to conflate them with Belgians and people from Sheffield (not the one in Tasmania).
Their poetry is described as the third worst in the Universe, and:

The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England in the destruction of the planet Earth (p53).

It would seem that Paula Nancy has been doubly reincarnated as Ms-s Lorner and Ottaway on today's Poetica (ABC-RN), playing as I write.
(Oh good, phew! It's just finished!)
You can listen to it here:
But beware: one of them even sings this "poetry".
Be prepared to bite off your own left arm in sheer anguish.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
(And when I use red, I mean it.)

As Nelson said to Hardy before the Battle of Trafalgar:
"Put out my red jacket, I don't want the troops to notice if I'm wounded.
And, while you're there, get the brown trousers".

Sledge