Fandom: Blake's 7 Code: A poem in four parts.
Disclaimer: Mr Nation and the BBC own the lot, I played nice and have since sent them home.
Archive: If you want to :-)
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Blake's our fearless leader, he's Number One,
He thinks he's got the Federation on the run.
Avon's next, our self-centered genius, at Number Two,
If you need a psychopathic Hacker, then he's the man for you.
Jenna's our pilot, coming in at Number Three,
Though she more than happy sat upon Blake's knee.
Cally's into communications, she makes Number Four,
She fights for freedom and Avon's libido to restore.
Vila comes next our resident thief, at Number Five,
He's quite happy to be drunk, but otherwise alive.
Then comes Gan rolling in at Number Six,
Of what use he may be, I could never get a fix.
Zen is usually there, around Number Seven,
But occasionally he slips of into computer heaven.
Last but not least there's Orac, in slot Number Eight,
Yeah, I know it's Blake's 7, but Orac signed on late.
WHO'S WHO 2
Gan has gone heading the list at Number One,
Whilst leaving Control he forgot how to run.
Blake took off next, that's Number Two,
He finally ran out of fingers to chew.
Jenna went with him so she's Number Three,
For she fancies Blake, so with him she'll flee.
Cally's now departed she fell at Number Four,
Going all to pieces on Terminal's floor.
Zen's no longer around he made Number Five,
His kinda short circuited trying to stay alive.
WHO'S WHO 3< p>
Avon's still here, at last he ranks Number One,
Being chased by the women, yet caught by none.
Space Captain Tarrant enlisted in rank Number Two,
He fancies himself boss, but Avon's got news for you.
Dayna's signed on she comes in at Number Three,
Killing and maiming for Avon with glee.
Vila's hanging in by a thread at Number Four,
Trying to avoid Avon and that bloody airlock door.
Soolin's joined up in position Number Five,
Chasing after Avon keeps her gears in main drive.
Orac's flashing away, a transparent Number Six,
Like Avon, supreme knowledge and ego, a disastrous mix.
Slave's been drafted in place Number Seven,
Oh what a bore, constantly whining with apologies given.
WHO'S WHO 4
OH HELL THERE IS NO MORE, AVON AND CREW SPRAWLED OUT
DEAD ON THE FLOOR,
PLEASE FORGIVE IF I'VE BEEN A BORE,
BUT I'VE NOT WROTE A LOT FOR THE PUBLIC BEFORE.
The End :-)