[male narrator] It's an important and popular fact
that things are not always what they seem.
For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed
that he was the most intelligent species occupying the planet,
instead of the third most intelligent.
The second most intelligent creatures were dolphins, who, curiously enough,
had long known of the impending destruction of the planet Earth.
They'd made many attempts to alert mankind,
but most of their communications were misinterpreted
as amusing attempts to punch footballs or whistle for tidbits.
So they eventually decided they would leave Earth by their own means.
The last ever dolphin message was misinterpreted
as a sophisticated attempt to do a backward somersault
through a hoop, whistling The Star-Spangled Banner.
In fact, the message was this:
- [bell rings] - "So long and thanks for all the fish."
[Up tempo drum intro to big band number]
[male chorus] ♪ So long and thanks for all the fish
♪ So sad that it should come to this
♪ We tried to warn you all but, oh, dear
♪ You may not share our intellect
♪ Which might explain your disrespect
♪ For all the natural wonders that grow around you
♪ So long, so long and thanks...for all the fish
[female chorus] ♪ Your world's about to be destroyed
♪ There's no point getting all annoyed
♪ Lie back and let the planet dissolve around you
[male chorus] ♪ Despite those nets of tuna fleets
♪ We thought that most of you were sweet
♪ Especially tiny tots and your pregnant women
♪ So long, so long, so long, so long, so long
[female chorus] ♪ So long, so long
[whole chorus] ♪ So long, so long and thanks for all the fish
[girl solo] ♪ If I had just one last wish
♪ I would like a tasty fish
[woman solo] ♪ If we could just change one thing
♪ We would all have learnt to sing
[full chorus] ♪ Come one and all
♪ Man and mammal
♪ Side by side
♪ In life's great gene pool!
[male chorus] ♪ So long, so long, so long
[female chorus] ♪ So long, so long
[whole chorus] ♪ So long, so long and thanks for all the fish! ♪
[cock crows]
[male narrator] The extraordinary story of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
begins very simply.
It begins with a man.
Ooh!
An Earthman, to be precise.
Who no more knows his destiny,
than a tea leaf knows the history of the East India Company.
[buzz]
His name is Arthur Dent.
He is a five-foot-eight-inch-tall ape descendant
and someone is trying to drive a bypass through his house.
What do I want you to do about it? Find him
and tell him I'm currently lying flat on my back in front of...
Fine, I'll hold.
You can't lie in front of the bulldozers for ever.
I'm game. We'll see who rusts first.
This bypass has got to be built and it is going to be built.
- Why has it got to be built? - It's a bypass.
You've got to build bypasses. Besides, you should've protested months ago.
The plans have been on display at the planning office for a year.
On display? I had to go down to a cellar.
Mr Dent, have you any idea how much damage this bulldozer would suffer
if I just let it roll straight over you?
- How much? - None at all.
[narrator] By a strange coincidence, none at all
is exactly how much suspicion ape-descendant Arthur had
that one of his closest friends
was not descended from an ape, but was, in fact, from a small planet
somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse.
Arthur! Arthur!
- [Arthur] Ford! - Yes?
Here.
Ah, there you are!
[Ford] Eat, drink. We gotta talk.
Now's not the best time. They're going to demolish my home.
Whoa! You already... You already know? How?
What do you m...?
Oh, they, they? When you say "they" you mean they? Got it.
Listen. I got somethin' important I gotta tell you. Right now.
Well, what about my house?
[Ford] Workers of the Earth, I bring good tidings of peanuts and beer!
[workers' excited chatter]
- Good. Let's go to the pub. - Huh?
They won't demolish it until they've finished the beers.
- Can we trust 'em? - To the end of the Earth.
- How far's that? - About 12 minutes away.
Huh?
Barman, six pints of bitter and quickly. The world's about to end.
Six pints coming up.
[Ford] Keep the change. You got about ten minutes to spend it.
Three pints each? At lunchtime?
[loud gulping]
Sorry. Ah. Time is an illusion.
Lunchtime, doubly so.
And eat those peanuts, because you'll need the salt.
- Look, what is going on, Ford? - Arthur...
What if I told you I really wasn't from Guildford?
I was from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?
Is that something you're likely to say?
Remember when we met?
- [Ford mimics car] - [car horn]
[Arthur] Out the way!
- [Arthur] Oof! - Hi.
Wasn't it strange I was trying to shake hands with a car?
I assumed you were drunk.
I thought cars were the dominant life form. I was introducing myself.
You saved my life. And now I'm saving yours. Please drink.
It must be Thursday. I could never get the hang of Thursdays.
- If this is about your house... - No, it's not about the house.
- [Arthur tuts] - [phone beeps]
- [Ford] Who's he? - [Arthur] She. She.
Tricia McMillan. We met at a fancy-dress party.
[Arthur] I hate those kind of parties.
I'd rather have stayed at home and ironed my hankies.
- But there I was. - [Tricia] Who are you?
- [Arthur] Oh! - And there she was.
- Uh, Dent. Arthur Dent. - Oh, no. I mean, who are you?
Oh, the costume? Right. "Livingstone, I presume!"
Yeah, it's not as clever as Darwin, but the best I could do at short notice.
You're the first to get that right.
- [Arthur] Really? - Yes. Everyone calls me Santa.
- Right. - I thought the beagle was a giveaway.
So did l.
People at these parties are drunken idiots.
- What? - [music stops]
[Arthur] All these people are idiots! God!
[Tricia laughs]
That's awkward.
[Arthur] Tell me.
She was amazing though, Ford.
Beautiful, witty, mad as a balloon.
[Arthur] Uh, without the beard, you look at least 80 years younger.
Maybe I'm de-evolving.
[both laugh]
[Arthur] Well, I should tell you that I do not date
single-celled organisms, okay?
Let's go somewhere.
Yeah. Definitely. Um, where do you have in mind?
- Madagascar. - Is that that new club on Dean Street?
No, it's a country off the coast of Africa.
That Madagascar? Why are we waiting here?
- Wait a sec. - [Tricia laughs]
Go.
God, you're serious. Um, I can't go to Madagascar.
- Why not? - [Arthur] Because, I just, you know...
- You're serious? - Yeah.
I want to go somewhere I've never been and I'd like to go with you, so...
...what do you say, Dr Livingstone?
I say that's an extraordinary proposition.
I can't go. I mean, I've got a job.
Quit. Get a new one when you come back.
I don't even know your real name. Ow! Ow!
- Tricia McMillan. - Well, Tricia McMillan.
Um, I have a proposition for you.
Why don't we go somewhere a little closer first, say Cornwall,
and we'll see how it goes.
Right, of course, Cornwall.
[man] Hey, excuse me.
[squeak]
Is this guy boring you?
Why don't you talk to me instead?
I'm from a different planet.
It's true. You want to see my spaceship?
[Tricia laughs]
"Do you want to see my spaceship?" What kind of chat-up line is that?
Mm, that does happen.
- Speaking of... - [electronic bleeps]
We've got two minutes. Drink up.
- [rumbling] - That's my house.
People of Earth, a round of drinks, for everyone, on me.
[barman] You really think the world's going to end?
Yes.
Shouldn't we lie down, or put a paper bag over our heads, or something?
- If you like. - Will it help?
Not at all. See you.
[barman] Last orders!
[workmen shouting]
[pants]
[engines whir]
- [workman] What is that? - [workman #2] Run!
[workman #3] Look out!
[shouts and screams]
[rumbling]
[screeching]
Aha! Towel!
Arthur!
What the hell are those things?
[Ford] Yeow! They're ships from a Vogon constructor fleet.
I picked up their signal this morning. You'll need this.
[whimpers]
- [Arthur] What are you doing? - We're hitching a ride.
[feedback]
Um, people of Earth,
this is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council.
As you are probably aware,
plans for the development of the outlying regions of the galaxy
involve the building of a hyperspace express route through your star system.
And your planet is one of those scheduled for demolition.
[screaming]
[sheep bleat]
There's no point acting surprised about it.
The plans have been on display
at your local planning office in Alpha Centauri for 50 Earth years.
[screaming]
If you can't be bothered with local affairs, that's your lookout.
Apathetic bloody planet.
I've no sympathy at all.
[harsh alien speech]
[electric discharge]
[Arthur screams]
[boom]
[narrator/Guide] The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
is a wholly remarkable book.
Perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful,
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 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?
It's already supplanted the Encyclopedia Galactica
as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom
for two important reasons.
First, it's slightly cheaper,
and second, it has the words "Don 't Panic "
printed in large, friendly letters on its cover.
So you' re not from Guildford?
Which would explain the accent, which I've always wondered about.
Um, you're not an out-of-work actor,
but rather a writer for this, this book thing.
- [electronic buzzing] - [Ford] Good, huh?
I don't feel well. I need a cup of tea.
If I asked where we were, would I regret it?
- [Ford] We're safe for now. - [Arthur] Good.
We're in the washroom on one of the ships of the Vogon constructor fleet.
- Oh, get me home, Ford. - Arthur, your home is...
Oh, God, my home. My home was demolished.
[hollow clang]
You don't remember.
Okay, Arthur, I've got something to tell you. It's unfortunate, but it's true.
Your home planet has been blown up.
- Huh, blown up. - [Ford grunts]
[grunts]
Couldn't you have done something?
I saved your life. Okay, that makes us even.
It's a tough galaxy. If you want to survive out here, you've...
...gotta know where your towel is.
Okay, give me a hand over here.
Careful. It's hot. We've gotta get off this ship.
Before the Vogons find us.
Vogons, they hate hitchhikers. Pull.
- [Arthur] Huh? - [steam hisses]
[Ford laughs]
- Now we'll get a signal. - What is a Vogon?
Ask the Guide. Say "Vogons".
- [electronic chimes] - Vogons.
[Guide] 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,
queried, lost, found, subjected to public inquiry,
Iost 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.
[klaxon]
[Ford] They can't think or imagine. Most can't spell. They just run things.
Hmm?
[grunts]
And if we don't get a ride soon,
we won't need the Guide to tell us how unpleasant the Vogons are.
They've already destroyed a planet today.
That always makes them a little eee!
[loudspeaker: unintelligible shouting]
Ughh! What is that?
- Put this in your ear. - Huh?
[Arthur gibbers]
[Vogon] We have unwittingly picked up a couple of hitchhikers.
The fish is translating for you.
[Guide] The Babel fish is small, yellow, leech-like,
and probably the oddest thing in the universe.
It feeds on brainwave energy, absorbing unconscious frequencies,
and excreting a matrix of conscious frequencies
to the speech centers of the brain.
The practical upshot of which is that, if you stick one in your ear,
you instantly understand anything said to you in any language.
[rumbling, crashing]
Resistance is useless.
- [Arthur] All right. - [Vogon] Someone's coming.
[Vogon #2] Here we go. Look lively.
[rumble and crash of doors]
[Vogon grunts]
[Vogons chatter]
[crab] Wheee!
- [Vogon grunts] - [crab squeaks]
- [squeak] - [Vogon] Ha, ha!
[all shriek]
[door clangs]
- [Vogon Jeltz] Hmmm. - [Vogon minion] Sir.
- [Vogon Jeltz] What? - [Vogon minion] Hitchhikers.
[Vogon Jeltz groans]
[bell rings]
[clang]
[whoosh]
[brakes grind]
[feedback]
[Vogon Jeltz groans]
[Ford gibbers]
[Vogon Jeltz clears throat]
"O freddled gruntbuggly..."
No, really, you don't have to read.
We've put you through enough trouble already.
"...as plerdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee."
[Guide] Vogon poetry is widely accepted as the third worst in the universe.
[groans]
[Guide] The 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 hemorrhaging,
and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council
survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.
"Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts..."
- [Ford screams weakly] - "...with my blurgle..."
[Guide] The absolute worst poetry was by Paula Millstone Jennings of Sussex.
Luckily, it was destroyed when the Earth was.
"See if I don't." Yeah.
[Vogons chortle]
So, Earthlings, I present you with a choice.
Either die in the vacuum of space,
or tell me what you thought of my poem.
[Vogons chuckle]
A... a... actually, I rather liked it.
- [Jeltz] Hmm? - [Ford] Yeah.
- That's good. Run with it. - Hmmm.
Uh, some of the words I didn't understand,
but I found the imagery quite effective.
Continue.
Well, uh, yes, interesting rhythmic devices,
which seemed to counterpoint
the underlying metaphor of the humanity of...
- Vogonity! - Vogonity, sorry, vogonity...
of the poet's soul.
[Vogons murmur]
So what you're saying is,
I write poetry because
underneath this mean, callous, heartless exterior,
I just want to be loved?
[whispers] Yes, yes, yes.
Yes, yes, yeah, please.
Ahh, ooh, ooh, mmm.
Throw them off the ship!
- [Ford] No! No! - Ford. Ford!
Ahh!
All right! All right!
[Vogon guard] Resistance is useless!
Shut up! Get a job! Wash your filthy hands!
Don't panic. Don't panic.
[Arthur] So this is it? We're going to die?
Yeah, we're gonna die.
No, no, what's this?
What is this?
What's this? This is... nothing. Yeah, we're gonna die.
[Arthur sighs]
[hollow clang]
[Arthur sighs]
- [phone beeps] - [Arthur grunts]
You're sweating.
[Arthur chuckles]
- [Ford] Would you like a hug? - [Arthur] No.
[klaxon]
[noises stop]
[Guide] "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. "
A... a... and so on.
It also says that if you hold a lungful of air,
you can survive in the total vacuum of space for about 30 seconds.
But with space being really big and all,
the chances of being picked up within that time
are two to the power of two billion,
79 million, 460 thousand,
347 to one against.
By a staggering coincidence,
it's also the phone number of the Islington flat,
where Arthur went to a fancy dress party
and met a very nice young woman whom he totally blew it with.
[boom]
Though the planet Earth, the Islington flat and telephone
have all now been demolished, Ford and Arthur were, in fact, rescued.
- [Arthur] Ford? - [Ford] Y es.
- [Arthur] I think I'm a sofa. - [Ford] I know how you feel.
[both scream]
So much for the laws of physics.
[TV woman] And our top story.
The sensational theft of the most coveted ship in the universe,
the starship Heart of Gold.
Stolen at the launch ceremony by none other
than Galactic President Zaphod Beeblebrox.
[Zaphod] In the name of people, freedom, and, uh... democracy, stuff like that,
I hereby kidnap myself and I'm taking the ship with me. Whoo!
- Come on! - [crowd gasps]
[TV] Beeblebrox, universally considered
to be the dimmest star in several solar systems,
is most famous for his controversial defeat of Humma Kavula
who claimed many thought they were voting for the worst-dressed being
in the universe contest.
Great.
Kavula is best remembered for his slanderous
"Don 't Vote for Stupid!" campaign.
[woman] Put your ego aside. Something important has happened.
If there's anything more important than my ego, I want it caught and shot now.
Come on, I love it.
[TV] Zaphod's just this guy, you know.
Hey, hey, hey, hey. What d'you...?
- I was just watching myself. - We have a couple of hitchhikers.
Hitchhikers? Why'd you pick up hitchhikers?
I didn't. The ship did.
[Zaphod] What? Wh... wh... Say what?
When we engaged the lmprobability Drive... The big button.
- [Zaphod] I know. - They were picked up here.
In sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha. Wait. That's where you picked me up.
- On Earth. - That's impossible.
- No, just very improbable. - Listen. I don't have time for this.
We've got the police of half the galaxy after us. We've stopped for hitchhikers.
So ten out of ten for style, but...
...minus several million for good thinking.
You're too gorgeous, baby, stop it. You drive me crazy.
Don't. I'll send Marvin.
- Marvin. - [whirring]
[Marvin] You ought to know, I'm feeling very depressed.
Well, we have something that should take your mind off things.
[Marvin] It won't work. I have an exceptionally large mind.
Yeah, we know. But 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.
Yeah, well, that's life.
[Marvin] Life? Don't talk to me about life.
- [radio] Commander Kwaltz. - [Kwaltz] Yes.
[radio] We have located the spaceship Heart of Gold and President Beeblebrox.
- Where? - Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha.
Requesting hyperspace clearance.
Hold your position, captain, until clearance is granted.
- Yes, sir. - Get me Vice-President Questular.
Hyperspace permission granted, captain.
[Vogon crewman] Here we go.
- [engines roar] - [Vogons scream]
[whoosh of engines]
[door sighs]
I think that door just sighed.
[Marvin] Ghastly, isn't it?
All the doors have been programmed
to have a cheerful and sunny disposition.
Anyway, come on. I've been ordered to take you up to the bridge.
Please yourselves.
Here I am, brain the size of a planet,
and they ask me to take you up to the bridge.
Call that job satisfaction? 'Cause I don't.
You can thank the Sirius Cybernetics Corp. for building robots with G.P.P.
- [Arthur] What's G.P.P.? - [Marvin] Genuine People Personalities.
I'm a personality prototype. You can tell, can't you?
[electronic bleeps]
- [bleeps] - [woman] Arthur?
[Zaphod] Hey, Slim, are you wearing my underwear? 'Cause I'm wearing yours.
And they ain't doing the trick. Come on. All right.
- [door sighs] - [Marvin] Oh, for heaven's sake.
I've brought the aliens. Don't thank me or anything.
[Zaphod] Ah-ha! Ow!
- Freeze! - [Ford squeals]
[Marvin] Freeze? I'm a robot. Not a refrigerator.
- I wasn't talking to you, Giggles. - [Marvin] Oh, why do I bother?
- Zaphod? - Ford!
[Zaphod] Is that you? Ford! Praxibetel lx!
What the hell are you doing here?
I just stuck out my thumb and here I am.
- [Zaphod] That is so you. - [Ford] Look at you!
President of the Galaxy. I can't believe you beat Humma Kavula.
[Zaphod] You zarkin' frood.
I want you to meet a friend. Arthur, this is Zaphod Beeblebrox.
Oh.
President of the Galaxy. This is my cousin. He's a semi-half brother...
- We share three of the same mothers. - We've met.
[laughs] Have we? I'm sorry. I've got a terrible memory for species.
This is him, Ford. The would-you-like- to-see-my-spaceship bloke.
- Hmm. - Yeah.
- Hello, Arthur. - Tricia!
- How you doin'? - Hey, Trillian.
This is my semi-half-brother lx, I'm sorry, Ford.
- Hi. - Hi.
Um, would you excuse us for a second, please?
You went down on that little planet and didn't call me?
Sorry, I didn't know. I had a galaxy to run.
[Arthur] Hi, Tricia McMillan, right?
I think he called you Trillian. Which of us got the right one?
I shortened it. Something a little more spacey.
Right. I was thinking of changing mine to,
I don't know, Arthoolia.
[laughs] That's a good one. Well, this is weird.
- How'd you get here? - I just stuck out my thumb.
- Right. In your pajamas? - I was in a hurry.
Okay. Did you know I was here?
Don't flatter yourself. I've got a spaceman too.
Yeah, that's kinda like the Dingo Shuffle, yeah.
Okay, um, look.
I left you at the party. I feel bad, but I was gonna call you when I got back.
Well, there is no going back now, is there?
You do know what happened?
Enough small talk. We're on the run, remember?
Excuse me, we're having a chat.
Well, I think the girl's getting... Boo!
You blew it with her, Earthman, so shut your face or I'll kick you in the zatch.
- You wanna fight? - Okay.
- No. No. - I'm just kidding.
I'm a kidder. Let's be friends. Let's connect. You and l.
Didn't see that one coming, did you?
Popped right out of the box. You foxy, yeah!
Teach your pal a lesson, Ford. He's a guest on my ship.
[sings] He's a guest on my ship!
I thought you said you stole it.
[thud]
Stole what? What are we talking about?
- [electronic klaxon] - Whoa! That doesn't sound good.
[whoosh]
- Are you okay? - Just fabulous, thanks, "Trill".
A little help over here. I'm in over my head.
I'll take care of this. Good Zarquon, do I have to do everything?
[laughing] Yes, I do!
Hey, this is really pretty.
- Don't! - Whoo! They're on our tail.
Fire a gun. Launch a missile. Do some damage!
[engines roar]
Ow! Stop that! Ow!
Just kiddin'. I love it rough. Hit me.
- Uh, computer? - [computer] Hi, there.
I'm Eddie, your computer.
I'm pleased to report that it's a fleet of 100 Vogon battle destroyers.
They're sending you a message.
This is Vice-President Questular Rontok.
I am speaking to the kidnapper of the President?
[Zaphod] She digs me.
Surrender the stolen vessel at once
or we will take action as defined and permitted by...
section 1-8 of the Galactic Interstellar Space Bylaws...
Zaphod, please come back now. This is ridiculous.
Leap to hyperspace! Come on!
[computer] Sure thing, fella!
[engines fire up]
[whoosh]
No.
Did they have proper hyperspace authorization?
- No, commander. - Oh.
Bring me the request to pursue fugitive forms.
- [messenger] I'm coming, sir. - [footsteps]
[panting] I'm boiling! Oh, oh. Here's the form, sir.
So are you along for the ride or am I just dropping you somewhere?
That depends. Where are you going?
Where am I going?
- You okay? - Yeah. Don't suppose there's any tea.
Yes, there is. Come on. I'll show you the kitchen.
When you see what I'm about to show you, you'll beg me to take you with us.
[Guide] The best drink in existence is the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster,
the effect of which is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon
wrapped round a large gold brick.
[both scream]
- Belgium. Hold it one second. - Belgium.
Ape-man, Earth dude, sorry, what's your name again?
- [coughs] Arthur. - Right. Gorgeous.
No hard feelings, okay? Sorry to hear about your planet...
- Earth. - Yeah. I liked Earth.
Got these boots there. But don't mention it to the girl.
Because if you do... I'll pull your spleen out through your throat.
- All right. Thanks, buddy. - Okay.
Good stuff. Like those jammies.
Hey, hey, Zaphod, what's with the two-head thing?
Oh, yeah. Apparently, you can't be president with a whole brain.
It's crazy.
- Oh, so you carved it up? - Yes.
Parts of my personality weren't exactly what you'd call presidential.
You know what I'm talkin' about.
[drinks machine] Your tea is ready.
[gags]
[spits]
I suppose I should've said it resembles tea. [laughs]
So, two heads is what does it for a girl?
I mean, if I'd had two heads, or three...
Or your own spaceship.
Anything else he's got two of?
Come on, Arthur, don't be like that.
What am I supposed to be like? Green? Bleeping?
I can fold my eyelids inside out if you like.
Okay, look. Do you see this?
This detects what you're craving and makes it for you.
[machine] Enjoy your doughnut.
- Do you see this? - [buzzing]
This toasts bread while you're slicing it.
We're on a spaceship, Arthur. In space.
- I told you I wanted to get away. - To Madagascar.
That was... some sort of test. And I failed.
- How badly does it hurt? - It doesn't feel great.
No, I mean your chin.
- Ah... - I might have an aspirin.
Right.
- [mice squeak] - Hey!
Tricia... Trillian, sorry. There's something I have to tell you.
- Please, don't. - [Zaphod] Showtime, Trill.
I'm going to set up. Buttons aren't toys.
Anyway... When I saw what I'm about to show you,
that's when I realized why I had to do what I did to my brain.
I think. It's all a little...
...shaky.
[electronic whirring]
[Marvin] I've seen it. It's rubbish.
[trumpet fanfare]
[Guide] Many millions of years ago,
a race of hyperintelligent, pan-dimensional beings
got so fed up with the constant bickering about the meaning of life,
that they commissioned two of their brightest and best
to design and build a stupendous super-computer
to calculate the answer to life, the universe and everything.
O Deep Thought,
we want you to tell us the answer.
[Deep Thought] The answer to what?
[girl #2] The answer to life, the universe, everything.
[girl #1] We'd really like an answer. Something simple.
[Deep Thought] Hmm, I'd have to think about that.
Return to this place in exactly seven-and-a-half million years.
- [Ford] Is it finished? - No, there's more. They go back.
- Seven-and-a-half million years later? - That's right, they do.
[cheering, trumpets]
Deep Thought, do you have...
[Deep Thought] An answer for you? Yes, but you're not going to like it.
- It doesn't matter. We must know it. - All right.
The answer to the ultimate question...
[cheering]
...of life, the universe and everything...
[cheering]
...is...
[cheering]
... 42.
[man] Yeah? What?
[woman] 42?
[Deep Thought] Yes, I thought it over quite thoroughly. It's 42.
It would've been simpler to have known what the question was.
But it was the question. The ultimate question. Of everything!
That's not a question.
Only when you know the question will you know what the answer means.
- Give us the ultimate question then. - I can't. But there is one who can.
A computer that will calculate the ultimate question.
A computer of such infinite complexity,
that life itself will form part of its operational matrix.
And you yourselves shall take on new, more primitive forms,
and go down into the computer to navigate its 10-million-year program.
I shall design this computer for you, and it shall be called...
- That's it? - That's it.
[Ford] You're looking for the ultimate question? You? Why?
[Zaphod] I tried that. Why? 42. Doesn't work.
- Let's get it ready, baby. - Why...
...do you want to know the ultimate question?
Partly curiosity, partly a sense of adventure,
but, uh, mostly I think it's for the fame and the money.
You're President of the Galaxy.
- [Zaphod] Yes, Arman. - Arthur.
Whatever. Presidential fame is temporary.
I find the question, that's permanent. It sticks.
Plus, everyone thinks you're deep. Win-win.
We just hit that button and bam, we're at Magrathea, I think.
We've hit it twice and we're still not there, but anyway...
- You in? - Always.
- [Zaphod] All right! - [Marvin] Uh, I want to get off.
- Uh, sorry, what exactly are we doing? - This!
[boom]
[Guide] 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.
As the Improbability Drive reaches infinite improbability,
it passes through every conceivable point in every conceivable universe
almost simultaneously.
So you're never sure where you'll end up
or even what species you'll be when you get there.
It's therefore important to dress accordingly.
The Drive was invented following research into finite improbability
often used to break the ice at parties
by making all the molecules in the hostess 's undergarments
Ieap one foot to the left
in accordance with the theory of indeterminacy.
Many physicists said they wouldn 't stand for that sort of thing,
partly because it debased science,
but mostly because they didn 't get invited to those sort of parties.
[squeaks and clangs]
[engines rumble]
[Zaphod] Wow, is this gonna happen every time we hit that button?
[Trillian] Very probably, yes.
[Marvin] Ah, I think the Earthman's about to be sick.
[Zaphod] In the trashcan, ape-man. This ship's new.
Aw, come on!
[Trillian] We have normality.
Did it work? Are we there?
Yeah. We're here. Magrathea!
I don't think so. Eddie...
- Ow! - What planet is this?
[Eddie] I'm checking for you.
Did you just pluck one of my hairs? Off my head?
[Eddie] Thank you for waiting. Sorry to disappoint,
but this is not Magrathea.
We are currently in orbit around the planet Viltvodle Six.
- [squelch] - Humma Kavula!
Magrathea's gonna have to wait. I got a score to settle on this planet.
- [engines roar] - [Zaphod] Humma Kavula!
[Guide] In the beginning, the universe was created.
This made a lot of people very angry, and is widely regarded as a bad move.
[crowd shouting]
Many races believed it was created by some sort of god,
though the Jatravartid people of Viltvodle Six
firmly believe that the entire universe was sneezed out of the nose of a being
called the Great Green Arkleseizure.
[Zaphod] Humma Kavula!
[Guide] The Jatravartids, who lived in fear
of the time they called the Coming of the Great White Handkerchief,
were small blue creatures with more than 50 arms each.
They were unique in being the only race in history
to have invented the aerosol deodorant before the wheel.
Mr President!
Hey, all right. How you doin'?
Hey, what have we here? I love it!
[blasts]
Hey, I love you. Fantastic!
You guys related? Don't go changing.
Arthur, I want a drink.
I think I've been here before. Have I been here before?
[women] lxxie!
- I've been here before. - [Zaphod] Humma Kavula!
Come on.
Tricia! Tricia, l...
[laughter]
♪ [church choir] Now we await with eager expectation
♪ Thy handkerchief to bring us back to Thee
Hello, Humma.
- [priest] Join us. Sit down. - Good to see you. Thanks. All right.
[Humma] The handkerchief is coming.
Let us pray the Almighty will exhale a breath of compassion on us all.
So that's Humma Kavula. I thought he was just swearing.
We lift our noses, clogged and unblown,
in reverence to you.
Send the handkerchief, O Blessed One, so that it may wipe us clean.
We ask this and all things in Thy precious and alliterative name.
[all sneeze]
[all sniffle]
Bless you.
- [door bangs] - [Zaphod] We goin' in here?
All right, I like it. It's big, it's gold, it's fancy. Fancy pants.
[Humma] Zaphod Beeblebrox, our infamous President.
What brings you to our humble planet?
[Zaphod] Oh, I think you know why I'm here.
No, I don't think I do.
I think you think you don't. But we both know... you do.
Eloquent as always.
Your ability to articulate never ceases to amaze.
[Zaphod] That's funny. During the campaign, Humma,
when you were my opponent running against me,
you said I was stupid.
The election is ancient history, Zaphod, but...
...if memory serves, you won,
proving that good looks and charm win
over brilliance and the ability to govern.
And, incidentally, you are stupid.
[Arthur] Excuse me, Mr Humma, sir.
Uh, I just want to say, there's been some sort of terrible mix up
'cause, actually, he's not with us.
We came to worship you. He followed us and...
He grew, didn't he. He's not that tall.
You didn't come half-way across the galaxy to settle a campaign grudge.
Why are you here?
Of course not, that's, that's ridiculous.
I've been stranded on a strange planet for years, I haven't been avoiding you.
You look great. You're doing well.
You've grown, obviously.
- [Zaphod] Aggh! Oomph! - Wait! We don't know why we're here.
We were trying to get to Magrathea and our ship brought us here.
How very, very improbable.
[squelch]
[electronic buzz]
I kept a few souvenirs from my former life.
Ah, the heady days of space piracy.
But... even an lnfinite lmprobability Drive requires coordinates.
Which I happen to have.
- [Zaphod groans] - No, no, no.
You don't get something for nothing, Zaphod.
You must bring me something in return.
- [chuckles] Wh... What? - [Humma] A gun.
- A gun? - A very special gun.
Designed by the greatest computer ever invented.
But the only way to find it is to go to Magrathea.
Fine. I'll get your gun. Just give me the coordinates.
And what will you give me to ensure your return?
My word as President.
No. I need a hostage.
Only... what does Zaphod Beeblebrox treasure?
- [Humma whistles] - [gulp]
- [whistling] - Come on.
[Zaphod chuckles hysterically] Oh, no!
- [Zaphod] Hey, take it easy now. - [electric saw]
No, stop it. Ah! Oh, that kind of tickles.
Two heads are better than one. Double your pleasure.
[Zaphod's second head] You need me!
Come back! Come back! Don't leave me alone.
[Hawaiian hula music]
[Zaphod's second head] Come back!
[Arthur] I thought I alone considered your boyfriend
a narcissistic moron, but the whole galaxy does.
What about you? "Excuse me, Mr Humma, sir."
"We're not with him. We just came to worship you." Very brave.
- Where the hell is Ford? - [whoosh]
[Vogon] By the left, march. Left, right, left, right.
Mr President, we're here for your protection.
[Vogon Kwaltz] Fire upon the kidnapper!
Hey, come on!
The President is the kidnapper. You'll kill him!
Bang! Bang!
[Arthur] It's locked!
Thank you, darling. I'll be in touch.
[Ford shrieks]
Come on, Zaphod.