The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this poor innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a whale before it then had to come to terms with not being a whale any more.

This is a complete record of its thought from the moment it began its life till the moment it ended it. Ah . . . ! What's happening? it thought. Er, excuse me, who am I? Hello? Why am I here? What's my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I?

Ah . . . ! What's happening? it thought.

Er, excuse me, who am I?

Hello?

Why am I here? What's my purpose in life?

What do I mean by who am I?

Calm down, get a grip now . . . oh! this is an interesting what is it?

Calm down, get a grip now . . . oh! this is an interesting what is it?

It's sort of . . . yawning, tingling sensation in my . . . my . . . well, I suppose I'd better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let's call it my stomach. Good. Ooooh, it's getting quite strong. And hey, what about this whistling roaring sound going past what I'm suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that . . . wind! Is that a good name? It'll do . . . perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I've found out what it's for.

Good. Ooooh, it's getting quite strong. And hey, what about this whistling roaring sound going past what I'm suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that . . . wind! Is that a good name? It'll do . . . perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I've found out what it's for.

It must be something very important because there certainly seems to be a hell of a lot of it. Hey! What's this thing? This . . . let's call it a tail - yeah, tail. Hey! I can really thrash it about pretty good, can't I? Wow! Wow! That feels great! Doesn't seem to achieve very much but I'll probably find out what it's for later on. Now, have I built up any coherent picture of things yet? No. Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I'm quite dizzy with anticipation . . . Or is it the wind? There really is a lot of that now, isn't there? And wow! Hey! What's this thing suddenly coming toward me very fast? Very, very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide-sounding name like . . . ow . . . ound . . . round . . . ground! That's it! That's a good name- ground! I wonder if it will be friends with me? Hello Ground!

No.

Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I'm quite dizzy with anticipation . . . Or is it the wind?

There really is a lot of that now, isn't there? And wow! Hey! What's this thing suddenly coming toward me very fast? Very, very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide-sounding name like . . . ow . . . ound . . . round . . . ground! That's it! That's a good name- ground!

I wonder if it will be friends with me?

Hello Ground!

To begin with it was fun, he had a ball, living dangerously, taking risks, cleaning up on high-yield long-term investments, and just generally outliving the hell out of everybody.

In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn't cope with, and that terrible listlessness that starts to set in about 2:
55, when you know you’ve taken all the baths that you can usefully take that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the newspaper you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o’clock, and you will enter the long dark teatime of the soul.

Random:
Lemons?

It:
If I have three lemons and three oranges and I lose two oranges and a lemon, what do I have left?

Random:
Huh?

It:
Okay, so you think time flows that way, do you? Interesting.

Marvin:
Another publishing company.

Arthur Dent:
What?

Ford Prefect:
The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It tells you what to do in any eventuality.

Arthur Dent:
[understandably dubious] What, even being stuck in a crack in the ground underneath a giant boulder which you can't move with no hope of rescue?

Ford Prefect:
Yes. It'll have something. Watch. (He activates the Guide)

Guide:
What to do if you find yourself stuck in a crack in the ground underneath a giant boulder you can't move with no hope of rescue: Consider how lucky you are that life has been good to you so far. Alternatively, if life hasn't been good to you so far, which, given your current circumstances, seems more likely, consider how lucky you are that it won't be troubling you much longer.

Ford Prefect:
It's time I did something about that book.

Arthur Dent:
Shame we lost the towel.

Ford Prefect:
What happened to it?

Arthur Dent:
Blew away in the wind. Fell into the river and a stream of lava rolled over it.

Ford Prefect:
[amused] Hmm. It'll give the archaeologists something to think about. 'Prehistoric towel discovered in lava flow. Was God a Marks & Spencer's sales assistant?'

Marvin:
I'm afraid I've been left here to stop you.

Frogstar Robot:
You? Stop me? Go on!

Marvin:
No really I have.

Frogstar Robot:
What are you armed with?

Marvin:
Guess.

Frogstar Robot:
Guess?

Marvin:
Yes, go on, you'll never guess.

Frogstar Robot:
Erm... laser beam?

Marvin:
No.

Frogstar Robot:
No, no no no no, too obvious I suppose...Anti matter ray?

Marvin:
Far too obvious.

Frogstar Robot:
Yes... er, how about an electron ram?

Marvin:
What’s that?

Frogstar Robot:
One of these.

[Robot fires electron ram causing lots of noise and destruction]

Marvin:
No, not one of those.

Frogstar Robot:
Good though isn't it?

Marvin:
Very good.

Frogstar Robot:
I know, you must have one of those new Xanthic Re-Structtion Destabilised Zenon Emitters.

Marvin:
Nice, aren't they?

Frogstar Robot:
That what you got?

Marvin:
No.

Frogstar Robot:
Oh, then it must be one of those things with twirls... goes whoosh...

Marvin:
You're thinking along the wrong lines you know, you're failing to take into account something very basic in the relationship between men and robots.

Frogstar Robot:
I- I- I- I know it I know it, I've seen them. Quite big... er...

Marvin:
Look, look, no, just think. They left me—an ordinary, menial robot to stop you—a gigantic, heavy-duty battle machine—whilst they ran off to save themselves... What do you think they would leave me with?

Frogstar Robot:
Well, er, something pretty damn devastating I would expect.

Marvin:
Expect? Oh yes, expect. I’ll tell you what they gave me to protect myself with, shall I?

Frogstar Robot:
Yes all right.

Marvin:
Nothing.

Frogstar Robot:
What?

Marvin:
Nothing at all. Not an electronic sausage.

Frogstar Robot:
Well, doesn't that just take the biscuit!

Marvin:
And me with this terrible pain in all the diodes down my left side.

Frogstar Robot:
Yeah? Oh that makes me angry, think I'll smash that wall down.

[Robot fires at wall which promptly crumbles]

Marvin:
That's very impressive.

Frogstar Robot:
Oh you ain’t seen nothing yet, I can take this floor out too... no trouble!

[Robot fires at floor which gives way]

Frogstar Robot:
oh dear!

[Robot falls through hole in floor]

Robot:
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Marvin:
What a depressingly stupid machine.

[Crash as Frogstar Robot Class D hits ground. An alarm goes off]

Zaphod:
With...deep anger and resentment...Zaphod Beeblebrox. Okay?

Frogstar Prisoner Relations Officer:
Thank you. It's not for my daughter, you understand, it's for me. [Gleeful] I have to put it in the Frogstar Record Office, attached to a statement saying that you went into the Vortex of your own free will.

Zaphod:
[low and dangerous] Baby, I think there's some problem with your respiration.

Frogstar Prisoner Relations Officer:
Oh, what?

Zapgod:
You're breathing.

Frogstar Prisoner Relations Officer:
Oh, that's not a problem.

Zaphod:
It is from where I'm standing. Here, let me tie a knot in your neck!

Frogstar Prisoner Relations Officer:
If you try and strangle me, Beelebrox, you'll regret it!

Zaphod (furious):
Yeah yeah yeah, not half as much as you will!

Arthur Dent:
Ford?

Ford Prefect:
Yes?

Arthur Dent:
He's totally mad, isn't he?

Ford Prefect:
Well, the border between madness and genius is pretty narrow.

Arthur Dent:
So's the Berlin Wall.

Ford Prefect:
The...?

Arthur Dent:
Oh, the Berlin Wall, it's the border between East and West Germany. It's very narrow, I mean the point I'm trying to make is -

Ford Prefect:
Was very narrow. Get your tenses right.

Arthur Dent:
Thank you.

Ford Prefect:
Anything wrong?

Arthur Dent:
On Earth we have a word -

Ford Prefect:
Had a word.

Arthur Dent:
- had a word called 'tact'.

Arthur Dent:
I mean, what is the point?

Nutrimatic Drink Dispenser:
Nutrition and pleasurable sense data. Share and enjoy!

Arthur Dent:
Listen, you stupid machine, it tastes filthy! Here, take this cup back! [He throws cup at the dispenser]

Nutrimatic Drink Dispenser:
If you have enjoyed the experience of this drink, why not share it with your friends?

Arthur Dent:
Because I want to keep them! Will you try and comprehend what I’m telling you? That drink -

Nutrimatic Drink Dispenser:
That drink was individually tailored to meet your personal requirements for nutrition and pleasure.

Arthur Dent:
Ah. So I’m a masochist on a diet, am I?!

Nutrimatic Drink Dispenser:
Share and enjoy!

Arthur Dent:
Oh, shut up!

Ford Prefect:
And I'll tell you another interesting thing...

Zaphod:
Look, I don't want to be interested! I don't wanna be relaxed or stimulated or have my horizons broadened, I just wanna be rescued, Ford! [Panicked breathing - quite understandable, given that he's barely hanging on above a drop of some thirteen miles!] I just wanna be swutting well RESCUED!

Ford Prefect:
I'm sorry, I've told you: No way.

Zaphod:
Aw, belgium, man, BELGIUM!

Lintilla:
Tell me how you got here.

Arthur:
Impossible.

Lintilla:
What do you mean?

Arthur:
Well, it’s something called the Infinite Improbability Drive. Don't ask me how it works or I'll start to whimper.

Lintilla:
But a ship?

Arthur:
Oh, yes, a ship. It's parked in a cup fifteen miles above us. Please don’t ask me about that either.

Lintilla:
Is there anything you are prepared to talk about?

Arthur:
Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?

Lintilla:
What?

Arthur:
I know. All non-starters, really.

Arthur:
[Shouting] Listen, you footwarriors, can you hold hard a bit with the firing? I’ve just got three impromptu weddings breaking out behind me!

Footwarriors :
[Calling from a distance] What?

Arthur :
Weddings! You know, with this ring I thee wed and that sort of thing.

Footwarriors :
Did you say weddings?

Arthur:
Yes!

[Almost inaudible mutterings from footwarriors:
'Did he say weddings?' 'Yes, I think so’, etc.]

Footwarriors :
Can...can we come?

Arthur :
No! Stay back! [F/X: Another burst of gunfire from Arthur]

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
B – b – but who are you, man? Why do I want to see you? I was told you were on an intergalactic cruise, which [offhandedly] I can handle...but in your office, which I can’t.

The Book:
The major problem – one of the major problems, for there are several – one of the many major problems with governing people is that of who you get to do it; or, rather, of who manages to get people to let them do it to them. To summarise: it is a well-known and much lamented fact that those people who most want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarise the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made president should on no account be allowed to do the job. To summarise the summary of the summary: people are a problem.

Zaphod:
Well, that clears it up. He's a weirdo.

Zarniwoop:
Ah – you say, "the Lord", so you believe in —

Man in Shack:
My cat. I call him "the lord". I am kind to him.

Zarniwoop:
Alright. How do you know he exists? How do you know he knows you to be kind or enjoys what you think of as your kindness?

Man in Shack:
I don't. I have no idea. It merely pleases me to behave in a certain way to what appears to be a cat. What else do you do? Please...I am tired.

Zaphod:
Marvin—I thought you were dead!

Marvin:
Seems I was still under warranty. Sorry to disappoint you...sorrier than you can possibly imagine.

Zaphod:
You're still parking cars here?

Marvin:
Spend a few thousand million years in a job and eventually you get promoted, I have my own bucket now. Finally, I am somebody.

Zaphod:
OK metal man, how about giving the Heart of Gold a hot wax with full valet?

Marvin:
That depends on whether or not I can find my frilly apron, with my luck, I probably can.

Waiter:
Would you all like to see the menu? Or would you care to meet the main Dish of the Day?

Arthur:
Meet?

Trillian:
What is it?

Waiter:
It's an Ameglian Major Cow. I'll bring him over.

Zaphod:
Ok, we'll meet the meat. that's cool. [a large pig-like creature is wheeled in on a trolley]

Dish of the Day:
Bweeeh... [clears throat] Good evening, Madam and Gentlemen. I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body? [Arthur and Trillian go "Huh?"]

Ford:
Oh, well.

Dish of the Day:
Something off my shoulder, perhaps, braised in a little white wine sauce?

Arthur:
Your shoulder?

Dish of the Day:
Well, naturally mine, sir. Nobody else's is mine to offer. [clears throat] The, uh, rump is very good, sir. I have been exercising and eating plenty of grain so there's a lot of good meat there. [moos] Or a casserole of me, perhaps?

Trillian:
You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?

Ford:
Me? I don't mean anything.

Bodyguard:
OK, Hotblack. Black ship's ready to crash into the sun of Kakrafoon. Time to get there ourselves.

Zaphod:
Listen, Earth man, you've got a job to do, right? The question to the ultimate answer, right? There's a lot of loot tied up in that, er, head thing of yours.

Arthur:
Yes, but where do we start? The ultimate answer's 42. What's the question? How should I know? Could be anything. I mean, what's 6 times seven?

Zaphod and Trillian:
42.

Marvin:
42.

Arthur:
Yes, I know that! Just saying it could be anything. [chuckles] Why ask me?

Zaphod:
Because you're the last one! You were there when your planet did the big firework!

Arthur:
I do wish you'd stop saying that!

Marvin:
I know.

Ford:
Ah, shut up, Marvin! This is organism talk!

Marvin:
It's printed in the Earth man's brainwave patterns but I don't suppose you'll be very interested in knowing that.

Arthur:
You mean you can see into my mind?

Marvin:
Yes.

Arthur:
And?

Marvin:
It amazes me how you manage to live in anything that small.

Number Three:
Captain?

Captain:
Yes, Number Three?

Number Three:
I've just had a sort of report thingy from Number One.

Captain:
Oh, dear.

Number Three:
He was shouting something or other about having found some prisoners.

Captain:
Oh, well, perhaps it'll keep him happy for a bit. He's always wanted some.

Number One:
[entering the Captain's room with Ford and Arthur] Captain, sir!

Captain:
Oh, hello, Number One! Having a nice day?

Number One:
I've brought you the prisoners I located in Freezer bay 7, sir.

Ford and Arthur:
Hi.

Captain:
Hello. Excuse me not getting up, just having a quick bath. Oh, well. Gin and Tonics all round! Look in the fridge there, Number Three.

Number Three:
Certainly, sir.

Number One:
Don't you want to interrogate the prisoners, sir?

Captain:
Why on Golgafrincham should I want to do that?

Number One:
To get information out of them, sir. Find out why they came here, sir.

Captain:
No, no, I expect they just dropped in for a quick Gin and Tonic, don't you?

Number One:
Sir, they're my prisoners. Can't I just interrogate them a little bit?

Captain:
Oh, very well. Ask them what they want to drink.

Number One:
Thank you, sir. Alright. [grabs Ford's collar] You scum! You vermin!

Captain:
Steady on, Number One!

Number One:
What do you want to drink?

Ford:
Well, Gin and Tonic sounds very nice to me. Arthur?

Arthur:
Hmm? Yes.

Number One:
With ice? Or without?

Ford:
[thinks for a second] With, please.

Number One:
Lemon?

Ford:
Umm, yeah. Oh, and do you have any of those little biscuits? You know, the cheesy ones?

Number One:
I'm asking the questions!

Captain:
Number One. Push off, will you, there's a good fellow. I'm trying to take a relaxing bath! [blows into his bubble pipe]

Number One:
May I respectfully remind you that you've now been in that bath for over three years.

Captain:
Yes, well, one needs to relax a lot in a job like mine.

Preface: There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.

The story so far: In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

The Total Perspective Vortex derives its picture of the whole Universe on the principle of extrapolated matter analyses. To explain—since every piece of matter in the Universe is in some way affected by every other piece of matter in the Universe, it is in theory possible to extrapolate the whole of creation—every sun, every planet, their orbits, their composition and their economic and social history from, say, one small piece of fairy cake. The man who invented the Total Perspective Vortex did so basically in order to annoy his wife. Trin Tragula—for that was his name—was a dreamer, a thinker, a speculative philosopher or, as his wife would have it, an idiot. And she would nag him incessantly about the utterly inordinate amount of time he spent staring out into space, or mulling over the mechanics of safety pins, or doing spectrographic analyses of pieces of fairy cake. "Have some sense of proportion!" she would say, sometimes as often as thirty-eight times in a single day. And so he built the Total Perspective Vortex—just to show her. And into one end he plugged the whole of reality as extrapolated from a piece of fairy cake, and into the other end he plugged his wife: so that when he turned it on she saw in one instant the whole infinity of creation and herself in relation to it. To Trin Tragula's horror, the shock completely annihilated her brain; but to his satisfaction he realized that he had proved conclusively that if life is going to exist in a Universe of this size, then the one thing it cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion.

The major problem—one of the major problems, for there are several—one of the many major problems with governing people is that of whom you get to do it; or rather of who manages to get people to let them do it to them. To summarise:
it is a well known fact that those people who most want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarise the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job. To summarise the summary of the summary: people are a problem.

Prologue: Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans. And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small café in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything. Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone about it, the Earth was unexpectedly demolished to make way for a new hyperspace bypass, and so the idea was lost, seemingly for ever. This is her story.

The problem is, or rather one of the problems, for there are many, a sizeable proportion of which are continually clogging up the civil, commercial, and criminal courts in all areas of the Galaxy, and especially, where possible, the more corrupt ones, this. The previous sentence makes sense. That is not the problem. This is: Change. Read it through again and you'll get it.

Ford: "Life," he said, "is like a grapefruit." Creature: "Er, how so?" Ford: "Well, it's sort of orangey-yellow and dimpled on the outside, wet and squidgy in the middle. It's got pips inside, too. Oh, and some people have half a one for breakfast."

The sign said: Hold stick near centre of its length. Moisten pointed end in mouth. Insert in tooth space, blunt end next to gum. Use gentle in-out motion. "It seemed to me," said Wonko the Sane, "that any civilization that had so far lost its head as to need to include a set of detailed instructions for use in a packet of toothpicks, was no longer a civilization in which I could live and stay sane."

Epilogue:
There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler's mind.

Preface: Anything that happens, happens. Anything that, in happening, causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen. Anything that, in happening, causes itself to happen again, happens again. It doesn't necessarily do it in chronological order, though.

It:
No, the answer is an orange and two lemons.

It would be hard to say which he was more frightened of:
that he might have hurt the person he had inadvertently sat on or that the person he had inadvertently sat on would hurt him back.

There is a theory which states that the universe is built on uncertainty and that a definitive statement/action creates a momentary energy vacuum into which flows a diametrically opposing statement/action. Famous vacuum-inducing statements include:
Surely that's not going to fit in there. I am sick of betting the same numbers every week. They are never going to come up. We are a peaceful people. Not even the Armorfiends of Striterax would want to pick a fight with us. You look gorgeous in that sweater, Felix. There is no way anyone is going to call you a freak and throw you in a dumple composter.

Fit the Second:
Marvin: Do you want me to sit in a corner and rust or just fall apart where I'm standing?

Fit the Second:
Marvin: Life, don't talk to me about life.

Fit the Fourth:
Arthur Dent: I seem to be having this tremendous difficulty with my lifestyle. As soon as I reach some kind of definite policy about what is my kind of music and my kind of restaurant and my kind of overdraft, people start blowing up my kind of planet and throwing me out of their kind of spaceships!

Fit the Sixth: Zaphod: Can it Trillian, I'm trying to die with dignity. Marvin: I'm just trying to die.

Fit the Seventh:
The other Shaltanac's joopleberry shrub is always a more mauvy shade of pinky-russet. The Shaltanac equivalent of "the other man's grass is always greener"

Fit the Seventh:
The Shaltanac equivalent of "the other man's grass is always greener"

Fit the Eighth:
Zaphod: The building's being bombed! Who in their right minds would want to bomb a publishing company?

Fit the Eighth:
Ford Prefect: You know, in these sorts of situations it's really good to have a guide to help you.

Fit the Eighth:
Frogstar Robot: Out of my way little robot

Fit the Ninth:
Life, as many people have spotted, is, of course, terribly unfair. For instance, the first time the Heart of Gold ever crossed the galaxy the massive improbability field it generated caused two hundred and thirty-nine thousand lightly-fried eggs to materialise in a large, wobbly heap on the famine-struck land of Poghril in the Pansel system. The whole Poghril tribe had just died out from famine...except for one man who died of cholesterol poisoning some weeks later.

Fit the Ninth:
The Book: Having been through the Total Perspective Vortex, Zaphod Beeblebrox now knows himself to be the most important being in the entire Universe...something he had hitherto only suspected. It is said that his birth was marked by earthquakes, tidal waves, tornadoes, firestorms, the explosion of three neighbouring stars, and, shortly afterwards, by the issuing of over six and three quarter million writs for damages from all of the major landowners in his galactic sector. However, the only person by whom this is said is Beeblebrox himself, and there are several possible theories to explain this...

Fit the Tenth:
The Book: The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy is an indispensable companion to all those who are keen to make sense of life in an infinitely complex and confusing Universe, for though it cannot hope to be useful or informative on all matters, it does make the reassuring claim that where it is inaccurate, it is at least definitively inaccurate. In cases of major discrepancy it is always reality that's got it wrong. So for instance, when the Guide was sued by the families of those who had died as a result of taking the entry on the planet Traal literally (it said "Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal for visiting tourists" instead of "Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal of visiting tourists"), the editors claimed that the first version of the sentence was the more aesthetically pleasing, summoned a qualified poet to testify under oath that beauty was truth, truth beauty, and hoped thereby to prove that the guilty party in this case was life itself for failing to be either beautiful or true. The judges concurred, and in a moving speech held that life itself was in contempt of court, and duly confiscated it from all those there present before going off for a pleasant evening's ultragolf.

Fit the Tenth:
The Guide‍'‍s omissions are less easily rationalised. There is nothing on any of its pages to tell you on which planets you can expect suddenly to encounter fifteen mile high statues of yourself, nor how to react if it is immediately apparent that they have become colonies for flocks of giant evil smelling birds, with all the cosmetic problems that implies. The nearest approach the guide makes to this matter is on page seven thousand and twenty three, which includes the words "Expect the unexpected". This advice has annoyed many hitch-hikers in that it is a) glib, and b) a contradiction in terms. In fact, the very best advice it has to offer in these situations is to be found on the cover, where it says in those now notoriously large and famously friendly letters: 'DON’T PANIC'.

Fit the Tenth: The Book: In today's modern Galaxy, there is of course very little still held to be unspeakable. Many words and expressions which only a matter of decades ago were considered so distastefully explicit that were they merely to be breathed in public, the perpetrator would be shunned, barred from polite society, and in extreme cases shot through the lungs, are now thought to be very healthy and proper, and their use in everyday speech is seen as evidence of a well adjusted relaxed and totally un(Beep)ed up personality. So for instance, when in a recent national speech the Financial Minister of the Royal World Estate of Quarlvista actually dared to say that due to one thing and another and the fact that no one had made any food for a while and the King seemed to have died and that most of the population had been on holiday now for over three years, the economy was now in what he called "one whole joojooflop situation", everyone was so pleased he felt able to come out and say it that they quite failed to notice that their five thousand year old civilization had just collapsed overnight. But though even words like 'joojooflop', 'swut' and 'turlingdrome' are now perfectly acceptable in common usage, there is one word that is still beyond the pale. The concept it embodies is so revolting that the publication or broadcast of the word is utterly forbidden in all parts of the Galaxy except one...where they don't know what it means. That word is 'belgium' and it is only ever used by loose tongued people like Zaphod Beeblebrox in situations of dire provocation. Such as...

Fit the Eleventh:
The Book: Incredible though it may seem, it is in fact possible that the strange and terrible history of the planet Brontitall, where Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect and Zaphod Beeblebrox are even now falling out of the sky on to curious and aggravating birds, admiring surprisingly large statues of unexpected people, i.e. Arthur Dent, exchanging hostile words with alien soldiers with inexplicable limps and generally having a fairly peculiar time of it, may yet admit of some form of explanation. Furthermore, it is possible that this explanation will have more than a little to do with the mysterious somethings or watchamacallits of which the bird people refuse to speak. On top of which it is also possible that Lintilla the archaeologist (who may possibly turn out to have an almost impossibly strange life story) may play a major part in the uncovering of this explanation. It is even possible that pigs will fly, or that everyone will live happily ever after. In an infinite Universe everything, even The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, is possible.

Fit the Eleventh:
Will everything tie up neatly or will it be just like life: quite interesting in parts, but no substitute for the real thing? What is the real thing?

Fit the Eleventh:
I ache, therefore I am.

Fit the Twelfth:
Man in Shack: I say what it occurs to me to say when I think I hear people say things. More I cannot say.

Fit the Twelfth:
Man in Shack: The lord knows I am not a cruel man.

Fit the Twenty-Second: Was I amongst friends when the Haggunenon admiral evolved into a life pod and everybody aboard his flagship escaped leaving me aboard as it steered itself into the nearest star? Was I amongst friends when I was left to walk in circles on a swamp planet? Left to park cars outside a restaurant for millenia? Left for the Krikkit robots to use for batting practice? Friend? I don't think I ever came across one of those, sorry, can't help you there.

Fit the Twenty-Sixth:
Marvin: This is the car park, you ordered a babe wash for your ship. Due to staff shortages, I am your babe.

Episode 1:
Humans are not proud of their ancestors, and rarely invite them round to dinner.

Young Zaphod Plays it Safe:
What do you think I am, completely without any moral whatsits, what are they called, those moral things?