The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy

[repeated line]

Marvin:
Life. Don't talk to me about life.

[repeated line]

Arthur Dent:
So this is it... we're going to die!

[repeated line]

Marvin:
I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed.

[first lines]

The Book:
This is the story of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor. More popular than the Celestial Home Care Omnibus, better selling than 53 More Things to Do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than Oolon Colluphid's trilogy of philosophical blockbusters: Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes, and Who Is This God Person, Anyway?

Prosser:
What do you mean, why's it got to be built? It's a bypass. You've got to build bypasses.

Prosser:
But the plans were on display.

Arthur Dent:
On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar.

Prosser:
That's the display department.

Arthur Dent:
With a torch.

Prosser:
The lights had probably gone.

Arthur Dent:
So had the stairs.

Prosser:
But you did see the notice, didn't you?

Arthur Dent:
Oh, yes. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign outside the door saying "Beware of the Leopard." Ever thought of going into advertising?

Arthur Dent:
That man wants to knock my house down.

Ford Prefect:
Well, he can do that whilst you're away, can't he?

Ford Prefect:
And no sneaky knocking Mr. Dent's house down while he's away, all right?

Prosser:
The slightest thought hadn't even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.

Arthur Dent:
Can we trust him?

Ford Prefect:
Myself, I'd trust him till the end of the Earth.

Arthur Dent:
Yes, but how far's that?

Ford Prefect:
About twelve minutes away.

Ford Prefect:
Six pints of bitter, and quickly please, the world's about to end.

Barman:
Oh yes, sir? Nice weather for it.

[Ford finally convinces bartender the world is about to end]

Barman:
Oh well. Last orders, please.

Ford Prefect:
Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so.

Arthur Dent:
Very deep. You should send that in to the Reader's Digest. They've got a page for people like you.

Ford Prefect:
How would you react if I told you that I'm not from Guildford after all, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?

Arthur Dent:
I don't know. Why? Do you think it's the sort of thing you're likely to say?

Ford Prefect:
Drink up. The world's about to end.

Arthur Dent:
This must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

[about the Vogon Constructor ships]

The Book:
They hung in the air exactly the same way that bricks don't.

Vogon captain:
What do you mean you've never been to Alpha Centauri? Oh, for heaven's sake, mankind, it's only four light years away, you know. I'm sorry, but if you can't be bothered to take an interest in local affairs, that's your own lookout. Energize the demolition beam. I don't know, apathetic bloody planet, I've no sympathy at all.

Ford Prefect:
How are you feeling?

Arthur Dent:
Like a military academy. Bits of me keep passing out. Ford? If I were to ask you where the hell we were, would I regret it?

Ford Prefect:
We're safe.

Arthur Dent:
Ah. Good.

Ford Prefect:
We're in a cabin of one of the spaceships of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.

Arthur Dent:
Ah. This is obviously some strange usage of the word "safe" that I hadn't previously been aware of.

Arthur Dent:
Good grief. Is this really the interior of a flying saucer?

Ford Prefect:
Yes. What do you think?

Arthur Dent:
Well, it's a bit squalid, isn't it?

Ford Prefect:
Listen. It's a tough universe. There's all sorts of people and things trying to do you, kill you, rip you off, everything. If you're going to survive out there, you've really got to know where your towel is.

Arthur Dent:
What are you doing?

Ford Prefect:
Preparing for hyperspace. It's rather unpleasantly like being drunk.

Arthur Dent:
What's so wrong about being drunk?

Ford Prefect:
Ask a glass of water.

[Arthur Dent looks up "Earth" in the Hitchhiker's Guide]

Arthur Dent:
What's it say? "Harmless." Just one word? Harmless?

Arthur Dent:
What the hell's that?

Ford Prefect:
Well, if we're lucky, it's the Vogon Guard come to throw us into space.

Arthur Dent:
And if we're unlucky?

Ford Prefect:
The Vogon Captain might want to read us some of his poetry first.

Arthur Dent:
I like the cover. "Don't Panic". It's the first helpful or intelligible thing anyone's said to me all day.

The Book:
The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, the effect of which is like having your brain smashed out with a slice of lemon... wrapped round a large gold brick.

Ford Prefect:
Hey, hagro-biscuit. The greatest. You'll love these guys. They cook the hoopiest frood food in the whole of the west galaxy. Go on, have a bite. Go on, go on, go on, try it. Your mouth will love you for the rest of your life.

The Book:
The argument runs something like this. "I refuse to prove that I exist", says God, "for proof denies faith and without faith I am nothing." "But", says Man, "the Babel Fish is a dead giveaway isn't it? It proves you exist, and so therefore you don't. QED." "Oh dear", says God, "I hadn't thought of that", and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic. "Oh, that was easy", says Man, and for an encore he goes on to prove that black is white and gets killed on the next zebra crossing. Most leading thelogians claim that this argument is a load of dingo's kidneys. But this didn't stop Oolon Colluphid making a small fortune when he used it as the central theme for his best selling book, "Well That About Wraps It Up For God." Meanwhile the poor Babel Fish, by effectively removing all barriers to communications between different cultures and races, has caused more and bloodier wars than anything else in the history of creation.

The Book:
Here is what to do if you want to get a lift from a Vogon... forget it. They are one of the most unpleasant races in the galaxy - not actually evil, but bad tempered, bureaucratic, officious and callous. They wouldn't even lift a finger to save their grandmothers from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal without orders signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public enquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as fire lighters. The best way to get a drink out of a Vogon is to stick your finger down his throat... and the best way to annoy him is to feed his grandmother to the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal.

Prosser:
Mr. Dent?

Arthur Dent:
Hello, yes?

Prosser:
Have you any idea how much damage this bulldozer would suffer if I were to let it roll straight over you?

Arthur Dent:
How much?

Prosser:
None at all.

The Book:
"Space," it says, "is big. REALLY big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the street to the chemist, but that's just peanuts to space. Listen..." and so on.

The Book:
Vogon Constructor Fleets... here is what to do if you want to get a lift from a Vogon. Forget it. They are one of the worst races in the Galaxy; not actually evil, but bad-tempered, bureaucratic, officious and callous. They wouldn't even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal without orders signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public inquiry, lost again and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters. The best way to get a drink out of a Vogon is stick your finger down his throat, and the best way to irritate him is to feed his grandmother to the Ravemnous Bugblatter Beast of Traal.

Mr. Prosser:
You can't lie in front of the bulldozers indefinitely.

Arthur Dent:
I'm game. We'll see who rusts first.

Mr. Prosser:
Mr. Dent!

Arthur Dent:
Hello, yes!

Mr. Prosser:
Have you any idea of how much damage that bulldozer would suffer if I just let it roll straight over you?

Arthur Dent:
How much?

Mr. Prosser:
None at all.

The Book:
The Guide also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic gargle Blaster, the effect of which is like having your brain smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick. The Guide also mentions on which planets the best Gargle Blasters are mixed, how much you can expect to pay for one and what voluntary organizations exist to help you rehabilitate.

Arthur Dent:
[after they've arrived on board the Vogon ship] If I asked where the hell we were, would I regret it?asked where

Ford Prefect:
We're safe.

Arthur Dent:
Oh, good.

Ford Prefect:
We're in a small galley cabin on one of the ships in the Vogon Constructor Fleet.

Arthur Dent:
Ah! This is obviously some strange use of the word "safe" that I wasn't previously aware of.

Arthur Dent:
How did we get here?

Ford Prefect:
We hitched a lift.

Arthur Dent:
Excuse me! Are you trying to say that we just stuck out our thumbs and some green bug-eyed monster stuck his head out and said "Hi, fellas, hop in, I can take you as far as the Basingstoke roundabout"?

Ford Prefect:
Well, the thumb's an electronic sub-ether device, the roundabout's at Barbard's Star, six light-years away, but otherwise that's more or less it.

Arthur Dent:
And the bug-eyed monster?

Ford Prefect:
[grinning] It's green, yes.

Arthur Dent:
[to Mr. Prosser, talking about the impending demolition of his house] The first I knew about it was when a workman arrived at the door yesterday. I asked him if he'd come to clean the windows, and he said he'd come to demolish the house! He didn't tell me straight away, of course; no, first he wiped a couple of windows and charged me a fiver, *then* he told me!

The Book:
This is the story of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor. More popular than the Celestial Homecare Omnibus, better selling than 53 More Things to do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than Oolong Colluphid's trilogy of philosophical blockbusters "Where God Went Wrong" "Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes" and "Who is This God Person, Anyway?". And in many of the more relaxed civilizations on the outer eastern rim of the galaxy the Hitchhiker's Guide has already supplanted the great Encyclopedia Galactica as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom. For though it has many omissions, contains much that is hypocrofal or at least uwarrently inaccurate it scores over the older, more pedestrian work in two important respects. First is slightly cheaper and secondly it has the words "Don't Panic" inscribed in large, friendly letters on the cover. To tell the story of the book it is best to tell the story of some of those whose lives it affected. A Human from the planet Earth was one of them. Though, as our story opens he no more knows his destiny than a tea leaf knows the history of the East India Company. His name is Arthur Dent. He is a six-foot tall ape descendant and someone is trying to drive a bypass through his home.

Ford Prefect:
Hello, Arthur.

Arthur Dent:
Ford! Hi, how are you?

Ford Prefect:
Fine. Look, are you busy?

Arthur Dent:
Well, I've just got this bulldozer to lie down in front of, but otherwise no.

Arthur Dent:
[the Vogan guard has found them] What's that?

Ford Prefect:
Well, if we're lucky, it's just the Vogans come to throw us into deep space.

Arthur Dent:
And if we're UN-lucky?

Ford Prefect:
The captain might want to read us some of his poetry first.

The Book:
Earthmen are not proud of their ancestors and never invite them 'round to dinner.

[torturing Ford and Arthur by reading poetry to them]

Vogon captain:
O freddled gruntbuggly / Thy micturations are to me / As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee / That mordiously hath bitled out its earted jurtles / Into a rancid festering...

[Arthur and Ford's moaning drowns out the poetry]

Vogon captain:
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustules / Are splurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts / And living glupules frat and slipulate / Like jowling meated liverslime / Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes / And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles / Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't.

Marvin:
Sorry, did I say something wrong? Pardon me for breathing which I never do anyway so I don't know why I bother to say it oh God I'm so depressed.

The 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.

The Book:
And lots of the people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches. 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.

[repeated line]

Vogon guard:
Resistance is useless!

Ford Prefect:
So, the hours are good, are they?

Vogon guard:
Yeah. Though now you come to mention it, most of the actual minutes are pretty lousy. Except some of the shouting I quite like: "Resistance is..."

Ford Prefect:
Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're good at that. I can tell

Ford Prefect:
Great idea of mine. Find a passing spaceship, get rescued by it.

[Arthur and Ford are caught in an improbability field]

Arthur Dent:
You know, if this is Southend, there's something very odd about it.

Ford Prefect:
What, you mean the way the sea stays steady as a rock and the buildings keep washing up and down? Yes, I thought that was odd.

[Ford Prefect has, quite improbably, turned into a penguin, and Arthur's leg has drifted off into the sunset]

Ford Prefect:
Hey. Quack. Who are you? Where are you? What's going on? Quack. Is there any way of stopping it?

Trillian:
Please relax. You are perfectly safe.

Ford Prefect:
That is not the point. Quack. The point is I am now a perfectly safe penguin. Quack. And my colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs.

Trillian:
We will be restoring normality as soon as we are sure what is normal anyway. Thank you.

Trillian:
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 Beeblebrox:
Okay. So, ten out of ten for style, but minus several million for good thinking, huh?

Marvin:
I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed.

Arthur Dent:
I wonder what'll happen if I press this button.

Ford Prefect:
Don't.

Arthur Dent:
[presses it] Oh.

Ford Prefect:
What happened?

Arthur Dent:
A sign lit up saying "Please do not press this button again."

Marvin:
Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they tell me to take you up to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction? Cause I don't.

Newscaster:
And 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.

Marvin:
And then of course I've got this terrible pain in all the diodes down my left side.

Arthur Dent:
Really.

Marvin:
Oh, yes. I mean, I've asked for them to be replaced, but no-one ever listens.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Now, which is the most nonchalant chair to be discovered in?

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

Arthur Dent:
Ford, there's an infinite number of monkeys out here who want to talk to us about this script for Hamlet they've worked out.

[after Ford and Arthur are rescued by the starship Heart of Gold only to discover it is operated by Ford's cousin and Arthur's ex-girlfriend]

Eddie:
Infinity minus one. Improbability sum now complete. For my next trick...

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
If there's anything more important than my ego around here, I want it caught and shot now.

Gag Halfrunt:
Well look, Zaphod's just zis guy, ya know?

The Book:
Vogon poetry is of course the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poetmaster 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 was 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.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Trillian, is this sort of thing going to happen every time we use the Infinite Improbability drive?

Trillian:
Very probably, I'm afraid.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Zaphod Beeblebrox, this is a very large drink. Hi.

Ford Prefect:
[stuck inside the Vogon airlock] Wait a minute... what's this switch?

Arthur Dent:
[dashes where Ford is pointing] What? Where?

Ford Prefect:
No. I was only fooling. We're going to die after all.

Arthur Dent:
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'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young.

Ford Prefect:
Why? What did she tell you?

Arthur Dent:
I don't know! I didn't listen!

Arthur Dent:
You know, it's at times like this when I'm locked in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young!

Ford Prefect:
Why? What did she say?

Arthur Dent:
I don't know! I didn't listen!

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Zaphod Beelblebrox, this is a very large drink. Hi.

Vogon Captain:
Now choose! Either die in the vacuum of space or... tell me how good you thought my poem was.

Arthur Dent:
I liked it!

Arthur Dent:
Ford, you're turning into a penguin! Stop it!

Trillian:
[over the intercom] Please relax. You are perfectly safe.

Ford Prefect:
That is not the point! The point is that I am now a perfectly safe penguin and my colleague is rapidly running out of limbs!

Ford Prefect:
Arthur? What's happening?

Arthur Dent:
Ford, there's an infinite number of monkeys who want to talk to us about this script for Hamlet they've worked out.

Slartibartfast:
Come. Come now or you will be late.

Arthur:
Late? What for?

Slartibartfast:
What is your name, human?

Arthur:
Dent. Arthur Dent.

Slartibartfast:
Late as in the late Dentarthurdent. It's a sort of threat, you see. I've never been terribly good at them myself but I'm told they can be terribly effective.

The Book:
Many men of course became extremely rich but this was perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of because no one was really poor, at least no one worth speaking of.

The Book:
Men were real men. Women were real women. And small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri.

Eddie:
Hi there. This is Eddie, your shipboard computer, and I'm feeling just great, guys, and I know I'm just going to get a bundle of kicks out of any program you care to run through me.

Arthur Dent:
Is there any tea on this spaceship?

Slartibartfast:
It is most gratifying that your enthusiasm for our planet continues unabated. And so, we would like to assure you that the guided missiles currently converging with your ship are part of a special service we extend to all of our most enthusiastic clients, and the fully-armed nuclear warheads are of course merely a courtesy detail. We look forward to your custom in future lives.

Marvin:
It gives me a headache just trying to think down to your level.

Eddie:
I'm waiting. I can wait all day if necessary.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Computer, if you don't open that exit hatch pretty damn pronto, I shall go straight to your major data banks with a very large axe and give you a reprogramming you will never forget. Capisco?

[pause]

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Okay. Get the axe.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Into the interior of the planet. That is where we have to go. Down into the very depths of time itself where no man has trod these five million years. We are not gonna be great. We are not gonna be amazing. We are gonna be amazingly amazing!

Marvin:
Sounds awful.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Can it, Marvin.

Marvin:
Life. Loathe it or ignore it. You can't like it.

Ford Prefect:
Zaphod, old mate, I trust you about as far as I could comfortably spit out a rat.

Slartibartfast:
Is that your robot?

Marvin:
No. I'm mine.

Arthur:
Well, if you call it a robot. It's more like an electronic sulking machine.

Slartibartfast:
Bring it.

Marvin:
"Bring it. Bring it."

Slartibartfast:
On second thoughts, leave it here.

Arthur Dent:
The Earth!

Slartibartfast:
Well, the Earth Mark II, in fact. We're making a copy from our original blueprints.

Arthur Dent:
Are you telling me you originally made the Earth?

Slartibartfast:
Oh, yes. Did you ever go to a place - I think it was called Norway?

Arthur Dent:
No. No, I didn't.

Slartibartfast:
Pity. That was one of mine. Won an award, you know. Lovely crinkly edges.

The Book:
On the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars, and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins believed that they were more intelligent than man for precisely the same reasons.

[as a pair of nuclear missiles close in on the Heart of Gold]

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Hey, this is terrific, they're trying to kill us! You know what that means?

Arthur Dent:
Yes, we're going to die.

Arthur Dent:
Excuse me, what is your name by the way?

Slartibartfast:
My name? [pause] My name is Slartibartfast.

Arthur Dent:
I beg your pardon?

Slartibartfast:
Slartibartfast.

Arthur Dent:
[laughing] Slartibartfast?

Slartibartfast:
I said it wasn't important.

[last lines]

The Book:
Arthur bruised his upper arm.

Ford Prefect:
Proving nothing. I wouldn't trust that computer to speak my weight.

Eddie:
I can do that for you, sure.

Ford Prefect:
No, thank you.

Eddie:
I can even work out your personality problems to ten decimal places if it'll help.

Slartibartfast:
I was most upset to hear of its destruction.

Arthur:
*You* were upset?

Slartibartfast:
Five minutes later and it wouldn't have mattered so much. Shocking cock up. The mice were furious.

Arthur:
Mice?

Slartibartfast:
You must come with me or you will be late!

Arthur Dent:
Late? What for?

Slartibartfast:
What is your name, human?

Arthur Dent:
Dent, Arthur Dent.

Slartibartfast:
Late as in the late Dent Arthur Dent. It's a sort of threat, you see.

Slartibartfast:
[to Arthur] You choose a cold night to visit our dead planet.

Trillian:
What are you supposed to do with a manically depressed robot?

Marvin:
You think you've got problems. What are you supposed to do if you are a manically depressed robot? No, don't even bother answering. I'm 50,000 times more intelligent than you and even I don't know the answer.

Eddie:
[he's been switched to his Emergency Back-up Personality, which sounds like a nagging mother] Now this is going to be your first day on a strange planet, so I want you all to dress up snug and warm and no playing with any naughty bug-eyed monsters!

Slartibartfast:
[to Arthur] I'm a great fan of science, you know.

Slartibartfast:
[to Arthur] You choose a cold night to viosit our dead planet.

Arthur:
I seem to be having this tremendous difficulty with my lifestyle.

Slartibartfast:
I beg your pardon?

Arthur:
What? Oh, sorry. Fatuous thing to say, really.

Slartibartfast:
I thought so.

Slartibartfast:
Excuse the mess. Most unfortunate. A diode blew in one of the life support computers. When we came to revive our cleaning staff, we discovered they'd been dead for thirty thousand years. Who's going to clear away the bodies? That's what no-one seems to have an answer for.

Lunkwill:
O great computer, the task we have designed you to perform is this: We want you to tell us the Answer.

Deep Thought:
The answer? The answer to what?

Lunkwill:
Life.

Fook:
The universe.

Lunkwill:
Everything.

Deep Thought:
Tricky.

Majikthise:
I mean, what's the use of our sitting around half the night arguing whether there may...

Vroomfondel:
Or may not.

Majikthise:
...be a God, if this machine only goes and gives you his phone number in the morning?

Vroomfondel:
That's right! We demand rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty.

Deep Thought:
You're really not going to like it.

Lunkwill:
Tell us.

Deep Thought:
The answer to the Great Question...

Lunkwill:
Yes?

Deep Thought:
...of life, the universe, and everything...

Lunkwill:
Yes?

Deep Thought:
...is...

Fook:
Yes?

Deep Thought:
...is...

Lunkwill, Fook:
*Yes*?

Deep Thought:
Forty-two.

[stunned silence]

Deep Thought:
It was a tough assignment.

Lunkwill, Fook:
*Forty-two*?

Arthur Dent:
You know, this explains a lot. Because all my life, I've had this unaccountable feeling in my bones that something sinister was happening in the universe and that no one would tell me what it was.

Slartibartfast:
Oh, no. That's just perfectly normal paranoia. Everyone in the universe has that.

Slartibartfast:
Perhaps I'm old and tired, but I always think the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say "Hang the sense of it" and just keep yourself occupied.

Slartibartfast:
Science has achieved some wonderful things, I know, but I'd far rather be happy than right any day.

Arthur Dent:
And are you?

Slartibartfast:
No. That's where it all falls down, of course.

Arthur Dent:
Pity, it sounded like rather a good lifestyle otherwise.

Frankie Mouse:
Still, the best laid plans of mice.

Arthur Dent:
And men.

Frankie Mouse:
What?

Arthur Dent:
And men. The best laid plans of mice and men.

Frankie Mouse:
What have men got to do with it?

[Cops corner Zaphod]

Shooty:
We don't want to shoot you, Beeblebrox.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Suits me fine.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Hey, I thought you said you didn't want to shoot us.

Bang Bang:
It isn't easy being a cop.

Shooty:
I don't go around gratuitously shooting people and then brag about it in seedy space rangers' bars. I go around gratuitously shooting people, and then I agonize about it afterwards to my girlfriend.

Bang Bang:
And I write novels!

Shooty:
Yeah, he writes them in crayon.

Bang Bang:
Though I haven't had any published yet, so I better warn ya, I'm in a *mean* mood.

Shooty:
Either you all give yourselves up and let us beat you up a little - though not too much, because we are firmly opposed to needless violence - or we blow up this entire planet... and one or two others that we noticed on the way over.

Ford Prefect:
This is an ancient Betelgeuse death anthem. It means, after this, things can only get better.

Lunkwill:
Who are you? Get out of here!

Majikthise:
I am Majikthise.

Vroomfondle:
And I demand that I am Vroomfondle.

Majikthise:
It's all right, you don't need to demand that.

Vroomfondle:
All right. I am Vroomfondle. And that is not a demand. That is a solid fact. What we demand is solid facts!

Majikthise:
No, we don't, that is precisely what we don't demand.

Vroomfondle:
We don't demand solid facts. What we demand is a total absence of solid facts. I demand that I may or may not be Vroomfondel.

Slartibartfast:
[talking about the mice] In the field of management relations, they're absolutely shocking.

Arthur:
Oh, really?

Slartibartfast:
Yes, well, you see, every time they give me an order I just want to jump up on a table and scream!

Arthur:
Yes, I can see how that would be a problem.

Barman:
[whilst greeting Arthur and the others at Milliways] It's not unusual for customers to be disoriented after the time journey.

Trillian:
Time Journey?

Ford Prefect:
You mean... this isn't the afterlife?

Barman:
The afterlife? No, sir.

Arthur:
So... we're not dead?

Barman:
Sir is most evidently alive otherwise I would not attempt to serve, sir.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
You mean they want to arrest me over the phone? Could be. I'm a pretty dangerous dude when I'm cornered.

Ford Prefect:
Yeah. You go to pieces so fast, people get hit by the shrapnel.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Hey, what is this? Judgement Day?

Arthur Dent:
Oh, do we get to see that as well? Terrific!

Max Quordlepleen:
So many of you come time and time again to watch this final end of everything, which I think is really wonderful, and then to return home to your own eras and raise families, and strive for new and better societies and fight terrible wars for what you know is right, it gives one real hope for the whole future of lifekind.

[pauses a beat]

Max Quordlepleen:
Except of course we know it hasn't got one.

Arthur Dent:
You know, it's not so much an afterlife, more a sort of apr?s-vie.

The Book:
[Quoting slogan] If you've done six impossible things this morning, why not round it off with breakfast at Milliways, the restaurant at the end of the universe?

Max Quordlepleen:
So, ladies and gentlemen, take your places at table. The candles are lit, the band is playing, and as the force-shielded dome above us slides apart, revealing a dark and sullen sky, hung with the ancient light of livid, swollen stars, I can see that we are in for a fabulous evening's apocalypse!

Dish of the Day:
Good evening, madame and gentlemen. I am the main dish of the day. May I interest you in parts of my body?

Max Quordlepleen:
Is everyone having one last wonderful time? Good.

Max Quordlepleen:
Believe me, ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing penultimate about this one. This one, ladies and gentlemen, is the proverbial "it". After this, there is void... emptiness... oblivion... absolute nothing.

[dramatic pause]

Max Quordlepleen:
Except, of course, for the sweet trolley and our fine selection of Aldebaran liqueurs. And for once, ladies and gentlemen, there is no need to worry about having a hangover in the mornings, for there won't be no more mornings!

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Listen, you semi-evolved simian, go climb a tree, will you?

Arthur Dent:
Go bang your heads together, four-eyes.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
You guys are so unhip it's a wonder your bums don't fall off.

Marvin:
The first ten million years were the worst. And the second ten million: they were the worst, too. The third ten million I didn't enjoy at all. After that, I went into a bit of a decline.

Max Quordlepleen:
And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for. The skies begin to tremble, nature collapses into the streaming void. In fifteen seconds' time, the universe itself will be at an end. See where the light of infinity bursts in upon us.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
It's the weird colour scheme that freaks me. Every time you try to operate one of these weird black controls, which are labeled in black on a black background, a small black light lights up black to let you know you've done it. Hey, what is this, some kind of galactic hyper-hearse?

Dish of the Day:
May I urge you, sir, to consider my liver? It must be very rich and tender by now, I have been force feeding myself for months.

Bodyguard:
[Ford is trying to get Hotblack Desiato's attention when the bodyguard notices him] Kid!

Ford Prefect:
Yeah?

Bodyguard:
Beat it.

Ford Prefect:
[looks around and sees the Bodyguard standing over him] Who are you?

Bodyguard:
[cracks his knuckles] I'm the guy that's telling you to beat it before it gets beaten for you.

The Book:
It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds, but that not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so if every planet in the universe has a population of zero, then the entire population of the universe must also be zero, and any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.

[first lines]

The Book:
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.

Dish of the Day:
May I urge you, sir, to consider my liver. It must be very rich and tender by now. I have been force feeding myself for months.

Arthur Dent:
Green salad, please.

Dish of the Day:
A green salad?

Ford Prefect:
[regarding Hotblack Desiato] He's spending a year dead for tax reasons.

Marvin:
"Reverse primary thrust, Marvin." That's what they say to me. "Open airlock number 3, Marvin." "Marvin, can you pick up that piece of paper?" Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they ask me to pick up a piece of paper.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
There's a whole new life stretching out in front of you.

Marvin:
Oh, not another one.

[Zaphod, Trillian, Arthur, Ford, and Marvin are attempting to escape a stuntship that's going to hit the sun. Zaphod is holding Ford up so he can search the upper regions of the ship]

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Hey Ford, how many escape capsules are there?

Ford Prefect:
None.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
You counted them?

Ford Prefect:
Twice! Raise the crew on the radio?

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Yeah. I told them there were a whole bunch of people on board.

Ford Prefect:
And they said?

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
'Hi there.'

Ford Prefect:
Did you tell them who you were?

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Yeah. They said it was a great honor.

Arthur Dent:
What does teleport mean?

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
What did you say?

[Zaphod turns, causing Ford's foot to slip off his hand. Ford yells and falls somewhere offscreen]

Arthur Dent:
Probably the wrong moment...

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Where does it say teleport?

Arthur Dent:
Well here, underneath this sign that says out of order!

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Hell's donkeys!

Ford Prefect:
It seems okay, just the automatic guidance, uh, where-ever-it-is-we're-going system is conked up!

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Who cares where we go? Lets just go!

Max Quordlepleen:
And lastly, a party of devout believers from the Church of the Second Coming of the Great Prophet Zarquon.

[applause]

Max Quordlepleen:
Still waiting for the Second Coming? Well, fellows, let's hope he hurries. He's got eight minutes left.

[laughter]

Max Quordlepleen:
No, but seriously, no offense meant. I know one shouldn't make fun of deeply-held beliefs. So, I think, a great big hand for the Great Prophet Zarquon ...

[applause]

Max Quordlepleen:
- wherever he's got to.

Marvin:
[talking about his long wait for the others] The first ten million years were the worst. And the second ten million... they were the worst too. The third ten million I didn't enjoy at all. After that, I went into a bit of a decline.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Did you talk to the big noiseboy?

Ford Prefect:
Hotblack? Yeah, I sort of spoke to him.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
What did he say?

Ford Prefect:
Nothing much. He's, um...

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Yeah?

Ford Prefect:
He's spending a year dead for tax reasons.

Bodyguard:
[Ford is trying to talk to Hotbalck Desiato] Kid?

Ford Prefect:
Yeah?

Bodyguard:
Go away.

Ford Prefect:
What?

Bodyguard:
Beat it.

Ford Prefect:
And who are you?

Bodyguard:
I'm the guy who's telling you to beat it before you get it beaten for you.

Ford Prefect:
Listen, ugly, I'm one of Hotblack's oldest mates and...

Bodyguard:
And I am Mr. Desiato's personal bodyguard and I am responsible for his body and I am not responsible for yours. so take it away before it gets damaged.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Hey, Ford. How many escape capsules are there?

Ford Prefect:
None.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
You counted them?

Ford Prefect:
Twice.

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

B-Ark captain:
Oh, very well. Ask them what they want to drink.

Number One:
Thank you, sir. All right, you scum, you *vermin*...

B-Ark captain:
Steady on, Number One.

Number One:
What do you want to drink?

Ford Prefect:
Well, gin and tonic sounds very nice to me. Arthur?

Arthur Dent:
Huh? Yes.

Number One:
With ice or without?

Ford Prefect:
[thinks] With, please.

Number One:
*Lemon*?

Ford Prefect:
Yeah. And do you have any of those little biscuits? You know, the cheesy ones?

Number One:
I'm asking the questions.

Ford Prefect:
Ah, this is futile. Five hundred and seventy-three committee meetings, you haven't even discovered fire yet.

Number Two:
I have declared war on the next continent.

Ford Prefect:
Declared war? There's no one even living there.

Number Two:
Yes, but there will be one day. So we've left a sort of open-ended ultimatum.

Ford Prefect:
What?

Number Two:
And blown up a few military installations.

B-Ark captain:
Military installations, Number Two?

Number Two:
Yes, sir. Well, potential military installations.

[pause]

Number Two:
All right. Trees. And we interrogated a gazelle.

Arthur Dent:
I'm trying to teach the cavemen to play Scrabble. It's uphill work. The only word they know is "unh", and they don't know how to spell it.

Arthur Dent:
I always said there was something fundamentally wrong with the universe.

Arthur:
So this is it. We're going to die.

Newscaster:
High above me, the sun is shining away and doesn't know what's going to hit it. The environmentalists lobby, however, do know what's going to hit it, and claim the concert will cause earthquakes, tidal waves, hurricanes, irreparable damage to the atmosphere, and all the usual things environmentalists usually go on about. But I've just had a report that a representative of Disaster Area met with the environmentalists this morning and had them all shot, so now nothing stands in the way of the concert going ahead this afternoon on this beautiful sunny day.

Arthur Dent:
What does teleport mean?

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
*What* did you say? Where does it say that?

Arthur Dent:
Well here, below the word that says "emergency" and above the word that says "system" and next to the sign that says "out of order".

[last lines]

Ford Prefect:
I read of one planet in the seventh dimension got used as a ball in a game of intergalactic bar billiards. Got potted straight into a black hole, killed ten billion people.

Arthur Dent:
Madness. Total madness.

Ford Prefect:
Yeah. Only scored thirty points too.

Arthur Dent:
Where'd you read that?

Ford Prefect:
Oh, a book.

Arthur Dent:
What book?

Ford Prefect:
The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.

Arthur Dent:
Oh. That thing.

Arthur Dent:
So this is it. We're going to die.

Ford Prefect:
I wish you'd stop saying that.

The Book:
One of the things that Ford Prefect had always found hardest to understand about human beings was their habit of continually stating and restating the very, very obvious. As in: "It's a nice day," or "You're very tall," or "So this is it. We're going to die."

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Ford Prefect:
I think so.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
Tell me what you think I'm thinking.

Ford Prefect:
I think you're thinking it's time we got off this ship.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
I think you're right.

Ford Prefect:
I think you're right.

Arthur Dent:
How?

Zaphod Beeblebrox's second head:
Quiet. We're thinking.

Arthur:
[being menaced by an angry caveman] No, no, please, please. Put down the jawbone.

Ford Prefect:
Hey, look! A plaque!

Arthur Dent:
What's it say?

Ford Prefect:
Golgafrincham Ark Fleet Ship B Hold 7 Telephone Sanitiser Second Class, and a serial number.

Arthur Dent:
Telephone sanitiser? A dead telephone sanitiser?

Ford Prefect:
Best kind.

Arthur Dent:
What's he doing here?

Ford Prefect:
Not a lot.

Marvin:
[talking about the Ultimate Question to the Ultimate Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything] It's printed in the Earthman's brainwave patterns, but I don't suppose you'd be interested in knowing that.

Arthur Dent:
You mean you can see into my mind?

Marvin:
Yes.

Arthur Dent:
Well?

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

Arthur Dent:
Poor bloody caveman. It's all been a waste of time for you, hasn't it? You've been out-evolved by a telephone sanitizer.

Ford Prefect:
[discussing the teleporter while their ship is plunging into the sun] Someone will have to stay behind and operate it manually! [pause] But that means whoever does wouldn't...

Trillian:
[quietly]... make it.

Zaphod Beeblebrox:
[Ford, Trillian, Arthur and Zaphod consider this before all turning to stare at Marvin as Zaphod grins slyly] Hey, Marvin kid. How ya doing?

Marvin:
Very badly I suspect.

"I'm so laid back i have difficulty seeing over my pelvis!"

"Have you got your towel?"