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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
No, stop it! Oh, that kind of tickles.
And?
♪ We tried to warn you all but, oh, dear! ♪
No!
- You wanna fight? You wanna fight? - Yeah, okay.
Activating Emergency Escape Pod. It's super-neat and fun to fly!
I think I'll have soup today.
Nobody think. No ideas.
Computer, take us to Magrathea!
The Infinite Improbability Drive was invented following research into finite improbability,
The Jatravartids, who lived in perpetual fear
You've grown, obviously.
Left, right, left, right.
Arthur!
if I just let it roll straight over you?
- Of course. - Yes, we've rebuilt the planet,
O' Deep Thought, we were told that there is a gun.
- Oh, get me home, Ford! - Arthur, your home is...
They've already destroyed a planet today.
- Why has it got to be built? - It's a bypass!
What?! Yeah, it's a big biggie, Ford. A big biggie!
and 'Who Is This God Person Anyway?'
♪ In life's great gene pool ♪
Now, to business.
And we need an idea to help save her.
- Say what? - That is brilliant.
Oh, no!
I have the President and I will kill him, I swear I will.
I thought cars were the dominant life form.
Doing the coastlines was always my favorite.
A proper cup of tea would restore my normality.
- Zaphod? - Ford?!
Stop it! Stop it! Stop shooting at us! Stop it!
- Look, what is going on, Ford? - Arthur...
where, due to a terrible miscalculation of scale,
Do you think it was a bit strange I was trying to shake hands with a car?
survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.
*SCREAMING*
No, I mean your chin.
Oh, right.
- Good man, good man, good man.
Come on.
I find the question, that's permanent. It sticks.
It's on another world.
Not at all. See you.
- Belgium. - Belgium.
I don't believe you.
I kept a few souvenirs from my former life.
So you're not from Guildford.
Okay, computer, keep going. Take us down.
Just very improbable
I'm checking for you.
Yes. "Love and kisses, Zaphod"? You didn't even read it, did you?
Hey, all right. How you doin'? All right.
This is him, Ford. The would-you- like-to-see-my-spaceship bloke.
But it was the question. The ultimate question. Of everything!
The answer to what?
Some of the words I didn't understand,
Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Vogons, they hate hitchhikers. Pull.
Vogons are one of the most unpleasant races in the galaxy.
Arthur, I say we go.
All right! All right!
This is it! This is it! Deep Thought. I'm a-coming.
"is big. Really big.
"O freddled gruntbuggly..."
we just... we come back, we pick another one. It's no biggie.
All right, let's trip the light fantastic, baby. Just you and me.
- What are you doing? - They took my head.
Maybe I'm de-evolving.
But here's the point. We must have product.
Here I am, brain The size of a red planet...
For instance, at the very moment that Arthur Dent said...
The computer says we have a couple of hitchhikers in our receiving bay.
What am I supposed to be like? You know. Green? Bleeping?
This is what it thought as it fell...
- Ford? - Marvin.
Come on, Arthur, don't be like that.
Have you calculated the ultimate question of life,
That's not a question.
- Why not? - Well, because, I just, you know...
of crossing interstellar distances in a few seconds,
Oh, he's locked the gate from the other side We'll have to go round
and carried his words far, far back in time,
begins very simply.
- Arthur, if this is about your house-- - No, it's not about the house.
We, well, we can put it back exactly as it was when you left, you know.
Out the way. Out the way.
so long
It's crazy.
Yeah, definitely.
"with my blurgle..."
Hey, it's okay. It's only a couple of little mice!
An entire planet, my home,
No, Tricia Marie McMillan of Earth.
They said they won't demolish your home until they've finished the beers.
I say that's an extraordinary proposition.
I think.
- I might have an aspirin. - Right.
- Did we lose 'em? - No, they're coming right at us.
- Hmm? - Yeah.
I shall design this computer for you, and it shall be called...
Three pints each? At lunchtime?
They can't think, they can't imagine. Most of them can't even spell. They just run things.
And what will you give me to ensure your return?
The absolute worst poetry was written by Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex.
On no account should you allow a Vogon to read poetry to you.