Your most unspeakable highnesses, type alpha, type beta, type gamma and type delta Vl'hurgs, one cannot fail to be impressed by the amazing length of time that the Vogon hoax has been perpetuated on planet Earth. Not only are these primitive beings unaware that they live on a flat disc wrapped in an old and rather decrepit black blanket, which has innumerable holes in it, but they also do not realise that they are orbited by one of the most mellow and well-matured Camemberts in the whole cosmos.
Why, I see you asking yourselves, should the Vogons wish to wrap this insignificant world in a blanket, giving the Earthlings the impression that they are surrounded by millions of distant suns? It is clearly to prevent these beings from being aware of the relentless consumption and ruthless exploitation of their greatest natural resource, but gourmets and gourmands alike from the entire Western Spiral Arm.
One has to applaud the industry of the Vogons, for whenever the most discerning palates of this strange and primitive humanoid race have begun to smell something funny going on, the Vogons secure their acquiescence by rewarding them with high academic or political posts, and guaranteed deliveries of Camembert (which, strangely enough, the other Earthlings call meteorites and seem to think no more than rubble burning up in their atmosphere).
Surely the most infamous of these rogues is the Earthling known as Patrick Moore. This charlatan transmits programmes consisting of little more than Vogon propoganda to huge television audiences. Despite his immense dimensions, which could only be the consequence of years of gorging himself on Vogon-supplied Camembert, not one of these dull-witted Earthlings even remotely suspects the sinister goings-on, or catches a whiff of foul play.
Yet another of these gluttonous crooks was John F. Kennedy. Unsatisfied with the meagre stocks provided by the Vogons, he managed to betray a whole nation, tricking them into providing vast resources, and enormous effort for a project, whose sole purpose was none other than to bolster his personal cheese supply. This appalling misdemeanour---known as the Apollo programme---consisted of carefully-disguised missions to mine the Earthling's huge Camembert. The later, more advanced "Cheese Shots" involved a motorised vehicle, which was specially designed to select the most tasty and the most succulent parts. Even to this day, the Earthlings remain ignorant of the true purpose of these missions.
We, the Vl'hurgs, are quite frankly cheesed off with these underhand and malodorous activities. The time for action is over-ripe: indeed, the time for action is fully matured. We must separate the curds from the whey.
When will there ever be a scientist or politician whom the Vogons cannot corrupt? Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton, Einstein, Napoleon ... to name but a few. All of these, and dozens more succumbed to the bribes of the odious Vogons. Who among the Earthlings can withstand the overwhelming power of a Camembert?
It is high time that the truth was revealed to these miserable, unfortunate creatures. Of the truth of the motion proposed here (which now slips my mind) there can, in any case be no doubt.