The Guide
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The
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is a wholly remarkable book—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 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? Partager la citation sur facebook
It is important to note that suddenly, and against all probability, a sperm whale had been called into existence, several miles above the surface of an alien planet. But since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity. This is what it thought as it fell: 'Ahhh! Whoa! What's happening? Who am I? Why am I here? What's my purpose in life? What do I mean by 'who am I'? Okay, okay, calm down, calm down, get a grip now. Ooh, this is an interesting sensation. What is it? It's a sort of a tingling in my... well, I suppose I better start finding names for things. Let's call it a... tail! Yeah! Tail! And hey, what's this roaring sound, whooshing past what I'm suddenly gonna call my head? Wind! Is that a good name? It'll do. Yeah, this is really exciting! I'm dizzy with anticipation! Or is it the wind? There's an awful lot of that now, isn't it? And what's this thing coming toward me very fast? So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like 'Ow', 'Ownge', 'Round', 'Ground'! That's it! Ground! Ha! I wonder if it'll be friends with me? Hello Ground!'
[the whale crashes into the ground] Curiously, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias as it fell, was: 'Oh no, not again.' Many have speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias had thought that, we should know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now.
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Vogons are one of the most unpleasant races in the galaxy—not 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, lost, found, queried, subjected to public inquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters.
On no account should you allow a Vogon to read poetry to you. Partager la citation sur facebook
The Babel fish is small, yellow and leech-like, and probably the oddest thing in the Universe. It feeds on brainwave energy not from its carrier, but from those around it. It absorbs all unconscious mental frequencies from this brainwave energy to nourish itself with. It then excretes into the mind of its carrier a telepathic matrix formed by combining the conscious thought frequencies with nerve signals picked up from the speech centres of the brain which has supplied them. The practical upshot of all this is that if you stick a Babel fish in your ear, you can instantly understand anything said to you in any form of language.
Now it is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence that anything so mindboggingly useful could have evolved purely by chance that some thinkers have chosen to see it as the final and clinching proof of the non-existence of God. The argument goes 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.
It proves you do 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.
A deleted portion of the filmed narrative, included as an Easter egg on the DVD
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Now it is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence that anything so mindboggingly useful could have evolved purely by chance that some thinkers have chosen to see it as the final and clinching proof of the non-existence of God. The argument goes 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.
It proves you do 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.
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Vogon poetry is widely accepted as the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Khria. 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 members died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council only survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. The absolute worst poetry is by Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex. Luckily it was destroyed when the earth was.
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"Space," says the introduction to
The Hitchhiker's Guide, "is big. Really big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is," and so on.
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The Jatravartids, who live in perpetual fear of the time they call "The Coming of The Great White Handkerchief", are small blue creatures with more than fifty arms each. They are unique in being the only race in history to have invented the aerosol deodorant before the wheel.
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What to do if you find yourself stuck with no hope of rescue: Consider yourself lucky that life has been good to you so far. Alternatively, if life
hasn't been good to you so far—which, given your present circumstances, seems more likely—consider yourself lucky that it won't be troubling you much longer.
Arthur Dent
Ford Prefect
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I've been stranded on a strange planet for a number of years, I haven't been avoiding you. You look great, you're doing well. You've grown, obviously.
Talking to a massive pair of hairy legs in an equally massive pair of high heels
Zaphod Beeblebrox
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[Humma Kavula is removing Zaphod's second head with a giant buzzsaw] Hey, hey, hey, take it easy now. Think about this before you do it. NO STOP IT! Ah that kinda tickles.
[his second head is removed] TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE! DOUBLE YOUR PLEASURE!
[Zaphod's second head has been placed on a hula dancer bobblehead doll with the label "STUPID" underneath it] IT'S NOT FAIR! YOU NEED ME! COME BACK! COME BACK! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE! COME BACK!
Trillian (Tricia McMillan)
Slartibartfast
Others
Dialogue
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Bartender: You really think the world's gonna end?
Ford: Yes.
Bartender: Shouldn't we lie down? Put paper bags over our heads or something?
Ford: If you like.
Bartender: Would it help?
Ford: Not at all.
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[Ford and Arthur have been turned into sofas]
Arthur: Ford?
Ford: Yes?
Arthur: I think I'm a sofa.
Ford: ...I know how you feel.
[Ford and Arthur both scream until they revert to normal] Partager la citation sur facebook
[Everyone aboard the Heart of Gold has been turned into yarn dolls]
Zaphod: Wow...is this gonna happen every time we...we hit that button?
Trillian: Very probably, yes.
[Arthur stumbles onto the bridge]
Marvin: Ah, I think the Earthman's about to be sick.
Zaphod: Whoa, whoa, do it in the trash can, ape man! This ship's brand new!
[Arthur vomits colored yarn into the can]
Ford: Oh, dear.
Zaphod: Oh, come on!
Trillian: We have normality.
Arthur:
[now normal, pulling a strand of yarn from his mouth] Did it work, are we there?
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Marvin: I think you ought to know that I'm feeling very depressed.
Trillian: Well, we have something that should take your mind off things.
Marvin: It won't work. I have an exceptionally large mind.
Trillian: Yeah, we know. But uh, we need you to go down to the number two entry bay and pick up our stowaways and bring them up here.
Marvin: Just that? I won't enjoy it.
Trillian: Yeah, well, that's life.
Marvin:
[Scornfully] Life. Don't talk to me about
life. Partager la citation sur facebook
Zaphod: Hey, enough small talk Trill, we're on the run, remember I stole a ship?
Arthur: Excuse me, we're having a bit of a chat here, do you mind?
Zaphod: Well I think the girl's got
[second head pops out] BOO, ha ha ha ha ha, you blew it with her earth-man, so shut your face or I'll kick you in the zatch.
[he starts poking Arthur, who raises his fists] You want to fight?
Arthur: Yeah.
Zaphod: You want to fight?
Arthur: Okay.
Zaphod: Earth-man wants to fight.
Trillian: No, no, no.
Zaphod:
[raises his hands] I'm just kidding, I'm a kidder. Come on, lets be friends, lets connect, you and I.
[third arm pops out and punches Arthur] Didn't see that one coming did ya. Popped right out of the box. You foxy. Yeah.
[starts dancing away] You should teach your pal a lesson Ford. He's a guest on my ship.
[singing] He's a guest on my, shiiiip.
Ford: I thought you said you stole it.
Zaphod:
[second head pops down] Stole what? What are we talking about?
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Zaphod: Hey ape-man, uh, earth, uh, dude, sorry, what was your name again?
Arthur: Arthur
Zaphod: Right, gorgeous. No hard feelings, okay? Sorry to hear about your planet,
[snaps fingers] what was it called?
Arthur: Earth.
Zaphod: Yeah, Earth, I liked Earth. Got these boots on Earth. Hey listen, don't mention it to the girl, okay? 'Cause if you do...
[Zaphod's other head pops out]
Zaphod: I'll pull your spleen out through your throat! [pushes second head down] Alright? Thanks buddy. Good stuff. Like those jammies.
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Zaphod: Hey baby, a little help over here, I think I'm in over my head.
[second head pops out] I'll take this! Good zarquon, do I have to do everything? Yes I do!
[second head pops down] Hey, hey slim, this looks really pretty...
Tricia: Don't!
Zaphod:
[second head pops out] Whoo, they're on our tail! Fire a gun! Launch a missile! Do some damage!
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Slartibartfast: Perhaps I'm old and tired, but I think that the chances of finding out what's actually going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say, "Hang the sense of it," and keep yourself busy. I'd much rather be happy than right any day.
Arthur Dent: And are you?
Slartibartfast: Ah, no. Well, that's where it all falls down, of course.
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[Arthur is flying the escape pod]
Arthur Dent: Ford? Ford! Help here!
Ford: Um...let's push this button here!
[Pushes button]
[Screen displays "Do not press this button again"]
Arthur: Uh, no! no no no no no!
Ford: How about...this?
[Pushes another button]
[Steering wheel pops up]
Arthur: Ah! there we go, Good man! Good man!
Zaphod: You forgot your towel. [puts towel over Arthur's eyes]
Arthur: NOOO get him off me! I'll kill him, I'll kill him! Okay, Ford, there's uh, could you...
[Points]
Ford: You mean that?
Arthur: No, that's not it, that makes it worse!
[Display beeps]
Ford: No? No. Um...
[Pushes another button, windshield wipers activate]
Arthur: No, I don't need that, I don't need that. Could you stop the rocket? Okay Marvin, any ideas?
Marvin: I have a million ideas, they all point to certain death.
Arthur:
[dripping with sarcasm] Thanks very much Marv.
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[Arguing over using a portal]
Arthur: We can't just, step into that. We don't even know where it leads!
Ford: If we, if we pick the wrong one we just, we come back, we pick another one. It's no biggy!
Arthur: What?! It's a
big biggy, Ford! A big biggy! I mean, what if it rips us all into tiny little atomic partical-thingys?!
Zaphod: This is the right one! I have a hunch!
Arthur: Ford!
Ford: His hunches are good, Arthur! I say we go!
Arthur:
[absolutely furious] GO WITH THE HUNCH OF A MAN WHOSE
BRAIN IS FUELED BY
LEMONS?!?! THIS IS SUICIDE!
Zaphod: Hey, I think I resent that!
Arthur: I don't care what you think you think!
Zaphod: I'm getting a lot of hostility from you Alex, or Armin, whatever your name is!
Arthur: Arthur!
Zaphod: Have you tried yoga?!
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[The mice (Lunkwill and Fook) are trying to remove Arthur's brain]
Arthur: Just wait a sodding minute! You want a question that goes with the answer for 42? Well, how about "What's six times seven?" Or "How many Vogons does it take to change a lightbulb?" Here's one! "How many roads must a man walk down?"
Lunkwill: Hey, that's not bad!
Arthur: Fine. Fine, take it. Because my head is filled with questions. And I can assure you, no answer to any one of them has ever brought me one iota of happiness. Except for one.
The one. The only question I've ever wanted an answer to—"Is she the one?" And the answer bloody well isn't "42", it's "yes"! Undoubtedly, unequivocally, unabashedly
yes! And for one week, one week in my sad little
blip of an existence, it made me happy.
Trillian:
[sleepily] That's a good answer...
[falls back unconscious]
Lunkwill: Rubbish. We don't want to be happy, we want to be famous.
Fook: Yeah, what is all this "Is she the one" tripe?
Lunkwill: Take his brain!
[Their drill starts again]
Arthur: NO, DON'T TAKE THE BRAIN, DON'T TAKE THE BRAIN MICE!
[he breaks an arm of the chair and knocks the mice off the drill]
Trillian:
[screams]
Zaphod: IT WASN'T ME!
Ford: ONE TWO THREE!
Zaphod: I'm famous.
Lunkwill:
[trying to point the point-of-view gun at Arthur] Shoot him! Quickly! Shoot him!
Arthur:
[lifts the teapot over his head and smashes it down]
Fook: Oh, bollocks.
[they are squished] Taglines