That whole enterprise was a let-down. The star drive proved useful; but there was a war or two in consequence, and when, after some centuries’ travel, we reached the mysterious object at the edge of the universe it turned out to be an advert for hair gel.
You mean the intergalactic era will be like being on drugs at a festival?
Like that, yes, but duller.
or like turning the pages of a Hip New Magazine very fast
Brylcream, the Enigma. A vintage billboard extolling brilliantine, pomade, that winning glop of water and mineral oil stabilised with beeswax.
Bryl-creem, a little dab’ll do ya,
Use more, only if you dare,
But watch out,
The gals will all pursue ya,–
They’ll love to put their fingers through your hair.
Bryl-creem, a little dab’ll do ya,
Bryl-creem, you’ll look so debonair.
Bryl-creem, the gals will all pursue ya,
They’ll love to RUN their fingers through your hair.