(TH EME MUSIC PLAYING)
BOOK“. Far out,
in the uncharted backwaters
of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the galaxy,
lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.
Orbiting this, at a distance of roughly 92 million miles,
is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet,
whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive
that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.
This planet has, or had, a problem, which was this.
Most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time.
Many solutions were suggested for this problem
but most of these were largely concerned
with the movements of small green pieces of paper.
Which is odd because, on the whole,
it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy,
and so the problem remained,
and lots of the people were mean and most of them were miserable,
even the ones with digital watches.
(HORNS HONKING)
Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all made a big mistake
in coming down from the trees, in the first place.
(GU LLS CALLING)
And some said that even the trees had been a bad move,
and that no one should have ever left the oceans.
And then, one day, nearly 2,000 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 cafe in Rickmansworth,
suddenly realised 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,
the Earth was unexpectedly demolished,
to make way for a hyper-space bypass
and so the idea was last forever.
(EXPLOSION)
Meanwhile, Arthur Dent has escaped from the Earth
in the company of a friend of his, who has unexpectedly turned out to be
from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse,
and not from Guildford after all.
His name is Ford Prefect,
for reasons which are unlikely to become clear again at the moment,
and they are currently hiding in the storeroom of 3 Vegan spaceship.
What the hell is that?
If we're lucky, it's a Vogon guard come to throw us into space.
And if we are unlucky?
The Vogon captain might want to read us some of his poetry first.
(GROWLING)
"Oh, freddled gruntbuggly
"Thy micturations are to me
"As plurdled gabbleblotchits On a lurgid bee
"That mordiously hath blurted out Its earted jurtles
"Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer"
"Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles"
"Are slurping hagrilly up the..."
BOOK: Vogon poetry is, of course, the third worse in the universe.
7' he second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria.
During a recitation by their poet master,
Grunthos the Flatulent, of his poem,
Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty
I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning,
four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging
and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council
only survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.
Grunthos is reported to have been disappointed by the poem's reception,
and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled,
Zen and the Art of Going to the Lavatory,
when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save lifekind,
leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.
The very worst poetry of all, and its creator,
Paula Nancy Millstone jennings, of Greenbridge, Essex, England,
perished in the destruction of the planet Earth.
Vogon poetry is mild by comparison.
(VOGON CAPTAIN RECITING IN DISTINCTLY)
"Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles"
"Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts"
“And living glupules frart and stipulate
"Likejowling meated liverslime..."
(SCREAMING)
"Groop, I implore thee my foonting turlingdromes
"And hooptiously drangle me
"With crinkly bindlewu rd les"
"Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon"
“See if I don't!“
- So, earthlings... - I'm not an earthling.
Quiet. I present you with a simple choice.
Think very carefully, for your very lives lie in your hands.
Now choose, either die, in the vacuum of space,
or,
tell me how good you thought my poem was.
I liked it.
- Huh? - Oh, yes. I thought
that some of the metaphysical imagery was really particularly effective.
Yes.
Oh... And... (STAMMERS) Interesting rhythmic devices
which seemed to counterpoint the... Um... Um...
Counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor of the...
- The... Ah... The humanity... - Vogonlty!
Oh, Vogonity, sorry, of the poet's compassionate soul,
which strives, through the medium of the verse structure,
to sublimate this, transcend that, and come to terms with
the fundamental dichotomies of the other
and one is left with a profound and vivid insight into... Into...
Into whatever it was the poem was about.
That's not bad.
So,
what you are saying,
is that I just write poetry because
underneath my mean and callous, heartless exterior,
I just want to be loved? Is that it?
I mean, yes.
Don't we all? I mean,
deep down, underneath,
you know?
No. You're completely wrong.
I write poetryjust to throw my mean,
callous, heartless exterior into sharp relief.
I'm going to throw you off the ship anyway.
Guard.
Take the prisoners to number three airlock
and throw them out.
This is really terrific!
Ow, let go of me, you brute.
Don't worry, Arthur,
I'll think of something.
Resistance is useless.
ARTHUR: What is all this, Ford?
I woke up this morning, thought I'd have a nice, relaxed day,
do a bit of reading, brush the dog. It's nowjust after 4:00 in
the afternoon and I'm already being thrown out of an alien spaceship,
five light-years from the smoking remains of the Earth.
FORD: All right, just stop panicking.
ARTHUR: Who said anything about panicking?
This is just culture shock.
You wait until I've settled down and found my bearings,
then I'll start panicking!
Arthur, you're getting hysterical. Shut up.
Resistance is useless.
- And you. - Resistance is useless.
Fine, give it a rest.
Do you enjoy this sort of thing?
Huh? What do you mean?
I mean, does it give you a full, satisfying life?
- Full, satisfying life? - Yeah.
Stomping around, shouting, pushing people off spaceships.
Oh, the hours are good.
- They'd have to be. - Ford, what are you doing?
Shh.
So,
- the hours are good, are they? - Yeah.
Now that you come to mention it, most of the actual minutes
are pretty lousy. Except some of the shouting I quite like.
- Resistance is... - Yes.
Yeah, yeah, you're good at that.
I can tell,
but if the rest of it is so lousy,
why do you do it?
The girls?
The rubber?
The gizmo?
Oh, I don't know really. I just sort of do it.
You see, my aunt said that spaceship guard
was a good career for a young Vogon, you know.
The uniform, the low-slung stun-ray holster,
the mindless tedium...
Ford, this guy's half throttling me.
Yeah, but try and understand his problem.
Here he is, poor guy, his entire life is spent stomping around,
- pushing people off spaceships... - And shouting.
Yeah, and shouting. Yeah.
And he doesn't even know why he's doing it.
Oh, poignant, very poignant.
- Well, put it like that... - Good lad.
All right, what's the alternative?
Well, stop doing it, of course.
Tell him you're not going to do it any more.
Stand up to him.
Doesn't sound that great to me.
Ah, but that's just the start, isn't it? I mean, there's more to it than that,
- you see... - No,
if it's all the same to you,
I think I'lljust get you two shoved out of the airlock
and then get on with some other piece of shouting I've got to do.
Resistance is useless.
- But, wait, come on now, look... - Ow, stop it, you beast.
Now, there's music and art and things to tell you about yet.
Oh, I think I'll better just stick to what I know.
Thanks, now. Thanks for taking an interest.
No, wait. I've got a headache. I don't want to go
out the airlock when I've got a headache,
I'll get all crossed, and wouldn't enjoy it.
No, listen. Look,
there's a whole world, you know nothing about it.
Now, listen, how about this? How about this?
(VOCALISES BEETHOVEN'S SYMPHONY No 5 IN C MINOR)
Doesn't that stir anything in you?
- Hmm? - No.
- (GRUNTS) - (GROANS)
All right now, I'll tell my aunt what you said.
(DOOR CLANGS)
(BOTH PANTING)
Potentially bright lad, I thought.
(VOCALISES BEETHOVEN'S SYMPHONY No 5 IN C MINOR)
No. (LAUGHS)
We're trapped now, aren't we?
Yeah, we're trapped.
Well, didn't you think of anything?
- Yeah. - What?
Unfortunately, it involved on being on the other side of this hatchway.
(SIGHS) So that's it? We're going to die?
Yeah.
Except,
(, 1D)
What a minute, what's this switch?
What, where?
No, I was only fooling, we're going to die after all.
You know, it's at times like this, when I'm stuck in a Vogon airlock,
with a man from Betelgeuse, about to die of asphyxiation in deep space,
that I really wish I had listened to what my mother told me
when I was young.
- Why? What did she tell you? - I don't know, I didn't listen!
Terrific.
(AIR WHOOSHING)
(DOOR CLANGS)
Counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor... Huh.
Death's too good for them.
BOOK: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is a wholly remarkable book.
The introduction starts like this,
"Space," it says, "is big."
(BOOK CONTINUES READING)
And so on.
After a while, the style settles down a bit and it starts telling you
things you actually need to know.
Like the fact that the fabulously beautiful planet Bethselamin
is now so worried about the cumulative erosion caused by
over 10 billion visiting tourists a year,
that any net imbalance between the amount you eat
and the amount you excrete whilst on the planet
is surgically removed from your body weight when you leave.
(MAN SCREAMING IN BACKGROUND)
So, every time you go to the lavatory there,
it is vitally important to get a receipt.
In the entry in which it talks about dying of asphyxiation,
30 seconds after being thrown out of a spaceship,
it goes on to say that what with space being the size it is,
the chances of being picked up by another craft within those seconds
are two to the power of 260,199 to one against.
Which, by a staggering coincidence, was also the telephone number
of an Islington flat,
where Arthur once went to a very good party.
Where he ate some very good food,
had some very good drinks,
with some very good friends,
and met a very nice girl
whom he totally failed to get off with.
Though the planet Earth, the Islington flat and the telephone
have all now been demolished,
it is comforting to reflect that they're all in some small way
commemorated by the fact that some 29 seconds later,
Arthur and Ford were, in fact, rescued.
See, I told you I'd think of something.
- Well, sure. - Great idea of mine.
Find a passing spaceship, get rescued by it.
Oh, come on. The chances against it were astronomical.
Don't knock it, it worked.
Where the hell are we?
Well, I hardly like to say this, but it looks like the seafront at Southend.
FORD: God.
I'm relieved to hear you say that.
ARTHUR: Why? FORD: I thought I must be going mad.
ARTHUR: Perhaps you are. Perhaps you only thought I said that.
Well, did you, or didn't you?
I think so.
Perhaps we are both going mad.
Nice day for it. Sun.
Sea.
You know, if this is Southend, there's something very odd about it.
What, do you mean the way the sea stays steady as a rock,
and the buildings keep washing up and down?
- Yeah. - I thought that was odd.
TRILLIAN: (OVER PA) Two to the power of 700, 000 to 7 against, and falling.
- What's that? _(TRILLIAN'S VOICE ECHOES)
Sounded like a measurement of probability.
What does it mean?
I don't know,
but I definitely think we are on some kind of spaceship.
Then I can only assume we are not in the first class compartment.
Southend seems to be melting away.
The stars are swirling.
A dustbowl.
Snow.
My legs drifting off into the sunset.
ARTH U R: (ECHOING) My legs drifting off into the sunset.
My left arm's disappeared.
How am I going to operate my digital watch now?
ARTHUR: (ECHOING) Howamlgoing to operate my digital watch now?
Ford, you're turning Into a penguin, stop It.
Qu-what?
Two to the power of 75,000 to 1 against, and falling.
Hey, quack! Who are you?
Where are you? What's going on?
Quack! Is there any way of stopping this?
Please relax, you are perfectly safe.
That is not the point. Quack!
Point is, now I am a perfectly safe penguin. Quack.
My colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs.
Isn't there anything you feel you ought to be telling us?
Quack.
Welcome to the sta rship, Heart of Gold.
Please do not be alarmed by anything you see or hear around you.
You are about to feel some initial ill-effects,
as you have been rescued from certain death,
at an improbability level of
two to the power of 260,199 to 1 against,
possibly much higher.
We are now cruising at a level
of two to the power of 25,000 to 1 against and falling
and we will be restoring normality
as soon as we are sure what is normal anyway.
Thank you.
Two to the power of 20,000...
Arthur, this is fantastic! We're being picked up by a ship
with a new Infinite Improbability Drive.
I mean, this is... This is incredible, Arthur.
Arthur?
What's happening?
Ford, there's an infinite number of monkeys out here,
who want to talk to us about the script for Hamletthey worked out.
BOOK“. The Infinite Improbability Drive
is a wonderful new method of crossing interstellar distances in a few seconds
without all that tedious mucking about in hyperspace.
The principle of generating small amounts of finite improbability,
by simply hooking the logic circuits of a Bambleweeny 57 Submeson Brain
into an atomic vector plotter
suspended in a strong Brownian motion producer,
say, a nice hot cup of tea, had long been understood.
And such generators were often used to break the ice at parties,
by making all the molecules in the hostess' undergarments
simultaneously leap one foot to the left,
in accordance with the theory of indeterminacy.
Many respectable physicists said that
they weren't going to stand for that sort of thing,
partly because it was a debasement of science,
but mostly because they didn't get invited to those sort of parties.
Another thing they couldn't stand was the perpetual failure they encountered
in trying to construct a machine
which could generate the infinite improbability field
needed to flip a spaceship between the furthest stars,
and in the end, they grumpily announced
that such a machine was virtually impossible.
Then, one evening, a student who had been left
to sweep up the lab after a particularly unsuccessful party,
found himself reasoning this way.
"If such a machine is a virtual impossibility,
"then it must logically be a finite improbability.
"So all I have to do, in order to make one
"is to work out exactly how improbable it is,"
"feed that figure into the finite improbability generator,"
”give it a fresh cup of really hot tea, and turn it on. ”
The moment he did this, he was rather startled to discover
that he had managed to create the long sought-after
infinite improbability generator out of thin air.
(APPLAUDING)
BOOK: It startled him even more when, just after he was awarded
the Galactic Institute's Prize for Extreme Cleverness,
he got lynched by a rampaging mob of respectable physicists,
who had finally realised that the one thing they really couldn't stand
was a smart-arse.
TRILLIAN: (ON INTERCOM) Five to one against, and falling.
Four to one against, and falling.
Three to one... Two... One...
Probability factor of one to one.
We have normality. I repeat, we have normality.
Anything you still can't cope with is, therefore, your own problem.
ZAPHOD: Who are they, Trillian?
Just a couple of guys we picked up in open space.
Sector 229 Plural 2 Alpha.
Yeah, well, that's a very sweet thought, Trilllan,
but do you really think it's wise, right now?
I mean, uh, here we are on the run and everything...
We've got the police of half the galaxy after us,
and we stopped to pick up hitchhikers.
Okay, so, 10 out of 10 for style,
but minus several million for good thinking, huh?
They were floating unprotected in open space.
You didn't want them to die, did you?
Well, no, not as such, but, you know...
A second later, and they'd have been dead.
Yeah. 50, if you'd taken the trouble to think about it a moment longer,
it would have gone away, right?
Anyway, I didn't pick them up. The ship did, all by itself.
- Hey, what! - Hey, what?
- The ship picked them up all by Itself. - So, what?
The ship picked up... Oh, forget it
and go back to sleep, will you? - Hey...
We picked them up while we were in Infinite Improbability Drive.
- That's incredible! - No, just very, very improbable.
Look, don't worry about the aliens. They're just a couple of guys, I expect.
I'll send the robot down to check them out.
Hey, Marvin?
I think you ought to know, I 'm feeling very depressed.
ZAPHOD: Oh, God.
Well, here's something to occupy you, and take your mind off things.
It won't work. I have an exceptionally large mind.
- Ma rvin... - All right.
What do you want me to do?
Go down to Number Three Entry Bay,
and bring the two aliens up here under surveillance.
Just that?
«as. MARVIN: I won't enjoy it.
She's not asking you to enjoy it. Just do it, will you?
All right. I'll do it.
Good. Good. Great. Thank you.
I 'm not getting you down at all, am I?
No, Marvin, that's just fine, really.
I wouldn't like to think I was getting you down.
No, don't you worry about that.
You just act as comes naturally, and everything will be fine.
You're sure you don't mind?
No, no. It's alljust part of life.
Life. Don't talk to me about life.
I don't think I can stand that robot much longer, Zaphod.
BOOK: The Encyclopaea'ia Galactica defines a robot as,
”a mechanical apparatus designed to do the work of a man. ”
The Marketing Division of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation
defines a robot as,
"your plastic pal, who's fun to be with!"
#Your plastic pal who's fun to be with #
BOOK: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
defines the Marketing Division of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation as,
"a bunch of mindless jerks"
”who'll be the first against the wall when the revolution comes. ”
With a footnote to the effect that the editors would welcome applications
from anyone interested in taking over the post of robotics correspondent.
Curiously enough, an edition of the Encyclopaedia Galactica
that fell through a time warp from 1,000 years in the future
defines the Marketing Division of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation as,
"a bunch of mindless jerks"
”who were the first against the wall when the revolution came. ”
(MACHINE GUN FIRING)
FORD: I think this ship is brand new, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Why, have you got some exotic device
for measuring the age of metal?
No, I just found this sales brochure lying on the floor.
It says, "The universe can be yours for a mere five quilliad Altairian dollars."
Cheap?
A quilliad is a whole page full of noughts
with a one at the beginning.
Ah, listen! This is what I was after.
"Sensational new breakthrough in improbability physics...
"As the ship's drive reaches infinite improbability,"
"it passes simultaneously through every point in the universe,"
"being the envy of other major governments."
I mean, wow! This is really big-league stuff!
Well, it's a whole lot better than that dingy Vogon crate.
This is my idea of a spaceship.
All gleaming metal, flashing lights...
Everything. Oh...
I wonder what'll happen if I press this button?
Don't!
(BEEPING)
Oh...
- What happened? - A sign lit up,
saying, "Please do not press this button again."
FORD: They make a big thing of the ship's cybernetics.
"A new generation of Sirius Cybernetics Corporation"
"computers and robots, with a new GPP."
GPP? What's that?
Uh, it says, uh...
"Genuine People Personalities."
Ugh. Sounds ghastly.
MARVIN: It is.
What?
It all is. Absolutely ghastly.
Just don't even talk about it.
Look at this door.
All the doors in this spacecraft have a cheerful and sunny disposition.
It is their pleasure to open for you, and their satisfaction to close again,
with the knowledge of a job well done.
DOOR: (IN SING-SONG VOICE) Glad to be of service.
MARVIN“. Hateful, isn't it?
Come on-I've been ordered to take you up to the bridge.
Here I am, brain the size of a planet,
and they tell me to take you up to the bridge.
Call that job satisfaction? Cos I don't.
Hey, uh, excuse me. Which government owns this ship?
You watch this door. It's about to open again.
I can tell by the intolerable air of smugness it suddenly generates.
DOOR: Please enjoy your trip through this door.
MARVIN: Come on.
DOOR“. Thank you.
Thank you very much, the Marketing Division
of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation.
Excuse me. Uh, which government owns...
Let's build robots with Genuine People Personalities, they said.
So, they tried it out with me.
I 'm a personality prototype.
You can tell, can't you?
- Which command... - I hate that door.
I 'm not getting you down, am I?
Look, which government owns...
No government owns it. It's been stolen.
ARTHUR AND FORD: Stolen?
Stolen.
- Who by? - Zaphoa' Beeblebrox.
Zaphod Beeblebrox!
Sorry, did I say something wrong?
Pardon me for breathing, which I never do anyway,
so I don't know why I bothered to say it.
Oh, God, I 'm so depressed.
Here's another one of those self-satisfied doors.
Life. Don't talk to me about life.
No one even mentioned it to you.
DOOR“. Glad to be of service.
Really? Zaphod Beeblebrox?
NEWSCASTER'...reports brought to you here on the sub-ether waveband,
broadcasting around the galaxy, around the clock.
We'll be saying a big hello to all intelligent life-forms everywhere,
and to everyone else out there,
the secret is to bang the rocks together, guys.
And, of course, the big news story tonight
is the sensational theft of the new improbability prototype ship,
by none other than Zaphod Beeblebrox.
And the question everyone's asking is, has the Big Z finally flipped?
Beeblebrox, the man who invented the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster,
ex-confidence trickster, part-time galactic president,
once described by Eccentrica Gallumbits,
the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon VI,
as, "the best bang since the big one," and, recently voted
the Worst-Dressed Sentient Being in the Universe
for the seventh time running.
Has he got an answer this time?
We asked his private brain-care specialist,
Gag Halfrunt.
Well, uh, Zaphod'sjust this guy, you know?
Beeblebrox stole the improbability drive ship
when he was, in fact, meant to be launching it.
Hey, kid. What did you do that for?
I just thought of something.
Yeah? Worth interrupting a news bulletin about me for?
Look, can we leave your ego out of this? This is important.
If there's anything more important than my ego around here,
I want it caught and shot now.
Listen, we picked up those couple of guys...
What couple of guys?
The couple of guys we picked up?
Oh, yeah. Those couple of guys.
We picked them up in sector 229 Plural 2 Alpha.
- Yeah! - Does that mean anything to you?
- Sector 229 Plural 2 Alpha? - Well?
Yeah, what does the 2 mean?
- Well, which one? - Any one.
Look, would you mind looking at the galactic charts?
Hey! That's wild!
(EXCITEDLY) I mean, how did we come to be there?
We should have zapped into the middle of the Horsehead Nebula,
- and that is nowhere! - The Improbability Drive.
We pass through every point in the universe. You know that.
Yeah, but, like, actually picking those dudes up at that point
isjust too wild a coincidence. (CHUCKLING)
- I will work this out. Hey, computer. - EDDIE: Hi} there!
Whatever your problem, I 'm here to help you solve it.
All I want to do is to make your day more and more bearable.
Then shut up and work something out for me, will you?
- A probability forecast based on... - Improbability data, yeah.
Okay, did you know that most peoples' lives are governed by telephone numbers?
Telephone numbers?
(BEEPING)
And then, of course, I've got this terrible pain
in all the diodes down my left side.
- Rea lly? - Oh, yes.
I mean, I've asked for them to be replaced,
but no one ever listens.
Huh. I can imagine.
(CHUCKLES) Well, well, well.
Zaphod Beeblebrox.
I don't believe it.
This is just too amazing, Trillian. Ah!
Trillian!
Oh, this is gonna be great!
(GIGGLING)
I am going to be so amazingly cool, it would fluster a Vagan snow lizard.
Oh, what real cool. Several million points out of 10 for style.
Right. Now, which is the most nonchalant chair to be discovered in?
DOOR“. Glad to be of service.
I suppose you'll want to see the aliens, now.
Do you want me to sit in a corner and rust,
or just fall apart where I 'm standing?
Show them in, please, Marvin.
DOOR“. Thank you.
Ford, hi. How are you?
Glad you could drop in.
Huh?
Oh, hi, Zaphod. Great to see you. You're looking well.
The extra arm suits you.
Hey, this is a great ship you've stolen.
Ford, you mean you know this person?
Know him? He's my... Oh, hey, Zaphod!
I'd like you to meet a great friend of mine, Arthur Dent.
I saved him when his planet blew up.
Sure. Hi, Arthur. Glad you could make it.
- And Arthur, this is my... - We've met!
What?
Oh, uh... Huh. Have we? (LAUGHING)
Hey...
What do you mean, "met"?
This is Zaphod Beeblebrox, from Betelgeuse V, you know.
Not bloody Martin Smith from Croydon!
I don't care. We've met, haven't we, Zaphod?
(SCOFFS)
Or, should I say, Phil?
What?
At a party, six months ago?
Hey, I really doubt that, you know?
On Earth. England. London. Islington.
Oh, hey, yeah! That party.
What? You mean you've been to that miserable little planet as well?
I may have just dropped in, you know, on my way somewhere.
At this party, there was a girl I was after.
Bea utifu I, cha rm I ng, devastatingly intelligent...
Everything I've been saving myself up for.
Along comes this friend of yours, and says,
"Hey, doll. Is this guy boring you?"
"Why don't you come and talk to me? I'm from a different planet."
Zaphod?
Well, of course, he only had the two arms and the one head,
and called himself "Phil," but...
But, you must admit, he did turn out to be from a different planet.
Good heavens! Tricia McMillan!
- Trillian, to you. - E D DI E: Infinity minus one.
Improbability sum now complete.
- For my next trick... - ZAPHOD: Shut up.
- What are you doing here? - Same as you.
I hitched a lift.
After all, with a degree in maths, and another in astrophysics,
it was either that, or back to the dole queue on Monday.
Oh, God. Ford, this is Trillian. Hi.
Trillian, this is my semi-cousin, Ford,
who shares three of the same mothers with me. Hi.
Trillian, is this sort of thing going to happen
every time we use the Infinite Improbability Drive?
Very probably, I'm afraid.
(SIGHS) Zaphod Beeblebrox, this is a very large drink.
Hi.
(TH EME MUSIC PLAYING)