The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Original Radio Scripts

by Douglas Adams

  This ‘appreciation’ is usually military in nature and is carried out with unmitigated savagery from the gunrooms of their horribly beweaponed Chameleoid Death Flotilla. Experience has shown that the most effective way of dealing with any Haggunenon you may meet is to run away terribly fast.

  FORD: Great.

  ARTHUR: Terrific.

  TRILLIAN: Thanks a million, Zaphod.

  ZAPHOD: Well hey don’t look at me.

  TRILLIAN: Well what do we do?

  FORD: The book says run away.

  ZAPHOD: How do we get the automatic pilot on our side? Box of chockies and some sweet talk? Any ideas Marvin?

  MARVIN: If I were you I’d be very depressed.

  ZAPHOD: Earthman?

  ARTHUR: I go along with Marvin.

  ZAPHOD: Ford?

  FORD: I always find that the prospect of death contracts the mind wonderfully.

  TRILLIAN: You know, I’ve just thought, there is a chance.

  ARTHUR: A chance? As far as I can see you might as well lower haystacks off the boatdeck of the Lusitania.

  TRILLIAN: No, think about it . . . The second in command assumed that the admiral, Zaphod and I were the same person not because we look similar but because we look completely different. So . . .

  FORD: Right, right I’m with you . . . If the second in command can be a shoe box, the admiral can be anything, a paraffin stove, a water bison, an anaconda.

  ZAPHOD: Terrific. I’ll root around for the water bison. Trillian you see if you can find the jar the admiral keeps his anacondas in.

  FORD: Can it, Zaphod, it could quite easily be something mundane – a screwdriver, that coil of wire, the chair itself . . .

  ZAPHOD: Yeah, hey you know that’s really a neat chair, could have been made for me, it’s got the two headrests, dig?

  FORD: What, those two great furry things? They look ridiculous.

  TRILLIAN: It’s very uncomfortable – I’d prefer something with far longer arms.

  ARTHUR: (Off) But which is probably quite incapable of drinking coffee.

  (Shocked pause)

  ZAPHOD: Hey, er, what did you say Earthman?

  TRILLIAN: Did you say headrests Zaphod? They look a lot like eyebrows to me . . .

  ZAPHOD: The chair’s stretching its leg . . .

  TRILLIAN: It’s just been asleep all this time . . .

  FORD: Arthur, for God’s sake get back here quick!

  ZAPHOD: Yeah, stand up when you sit on the Admiral, primate.

  TRILLIAN: It’s moving. Look, it’s starting to evolve!

  F/X: ZAPPY BURSTING SOUND WHICH IS ALSO A BIT SCREAMY AS THE CHAIR BURSTS INTO A TERRIBLE MONSTER.

  GENERAL CRIES OF ‘OH GOSH’ AND ‘GOODNESS GRACIOUS’ FROM THE CAST

  FORD: Wow, eat your heart out Galapagos Islands.

  ZAPHOD: G-Force, you know what that is!

  TRILLIAN: Let me guess. Horrible. Am I warm?

  ZAPHOD: It’s a carbon copy of the Ravenous Bug-Blatter Beast of Traal or I’m a Vogon’s Grandmother.

  F/X: GHASTLY SCREECH FROM THE BEAST

  ARTHUR: The Ravenous Bug-Blatter of Traal . . . is is safe?

  FORD: Oh yes it’s perfectly safe . . . it’s just us who are in trouble. If that’s the admiral and he still wants his coffee it ain’t sponge fingers he’s going to dunk in it.

  F/X: SCREECH

  TRILLIAN: Ford, throw some furniture at it!

  FORD: What do I do, pick this table up by the ears?

  ARTHUR: God, the whole place is coming alive!

  F/X: FURTHER ROARS SCREAMS AND HOWLS

  ZAPHOD: Yeah, and we’re coming dead.

  TRILLIAN: This ashtray just changed into a jar full of anacondas.

  ZAPHOD: Just tell it we’ll let them know OK?

  FORD: Get off me you filthy sofa . . .

  ARTHUR: God and I thought Times Furnishing was horrific . . .

  ZAPHOD: Get in the escape capsules!

  F/X: CHASE:

  FEET DOWN METAL CORRIDORS FOLLOWED BY BEAST SCREECH, AND GENERALLY KNOCKING FURNITURE OVER AND EATING IT

  FORD: Right, Arthur and I’ll take this one. Zaphod, you and the others take the left hand one.

  F/X: HATCHWAY OPENS. SCUFFLES AS ARTHUR AND FORD GET IN, THE BEAST’S SCREECHES ARE MUFFLED

  FORD: Press the go-stud Arthur.

  F/X: DULL DETONATION AS CAPSULE BLASTS OFF FROM THE SHIP, AND THE WHOOSH OF IT ESCAPING

  ARTHUR: Wheew! (Double take) Hey, Ford, look. The other capsule’s missing. The shute’s empty, someone else must have used that capsule . . . the others are trapped!

  FORD: It’s too late Arthur, we can’t help them. This capsule won’t turn back.

  ARTHUR: What happens if I press this button here?

  FORD: Don’t!

  F/X: A REALLY SMASHINGLY SUPER SOUND OF THE CAPSULE MAKING A HYPERSPACE JUMP

  GRAMS: NARRATOR BACKGROUND

  NARRATOR: Fortunately for Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent their capsule was fitted with the latest in instant space travel, the Phargilor Kangaroo Relocation Drive, by which a ship may be ejected suddenly through the fabric of the space time continuum and come to rest far from its starting point. This is however an emergency device, and there is rarely time to plot where the ship will land. Meanwhile, this is what happened to Zaphod, Trillian and Marvin . . .

  F/X: BUGBLATTER SCREECH

  TRILLIAN: (Screams) Look out!

  F/X: HUGE ARM SWEEPS DOWN AND PICKS THEM UP. THE MONSTER ROLLS HIS EYES WHICH TURN RED, GREEN, THEN A SORT OF MAUVY PINK. IT RUNS ITS TONGUE ROUND ITS LIPS, BLINKS A COUPLE OF TIMES AND THEN MENTALLY REGISTERS THAT IT HAS JUST REMEMBERED WHAT 10 ACROSS IN THE GALACTIC TIMES CROSSWORD WAS TODAY, MAKES A MENTAL NOTE TO WRITE IT IN WHEN IT’S NEXT GOT A COUPLE OF MINUTES

  CAST: (Shouts, etc . . .)

  MARVIN: (Resigned) Ouch . . . Oh dear, oh dear . . . My arm’s come off.

  TRILLIAN: Arrrgghh, he’s got us! If I ever survive this I’ll get a job as Moby Dick’s dentist.

  ZAPHOD: Can it Trillian, I’m trying to die with dignity.

  MARVIN: I’m just trying to die.

  ZAPHOD: No problem. Pas de problème!

  MARVIN: Ah . . . the ennui is overpowering.

  F/X: BUG BLATTER BEAST SWALLOWS THEM WHOLE. SOUND OF HUGE CAVERNOUS THROAT WITH SLIMY SLOPPING AND GURGLING

  NARRATOR: And this is what happened to Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect.

  F/X: REVERSE OF HYPERSPACE EFFECT. LOUD CLANG

  ARTHUR: Are we back in normal space?

  FORD: No. I think we’ve actually materialised inside another spaceship.

  ARTHUR: More problems.

  FORD: Well we’ll see. Checks . . . atmosphere OK, let’s get out and look . . .

  F/X: OPENING OF CAPSULE: THEY GET OUT

  ARTHUR: Ford?

  FORD: Yeah?

  ARTHUR: Look, what about the others?

  FORD: Arthur, you’ll have to learn, it’s a convention in all space travelling species that if you have to ditch someone . . . you know, a friend . . . there’s nothing you can do. You just let it be, you don’t talk about them, OK?

  ARTHUR: What . . . really?

  FORD: And then we get blind drunk about them later.

  ARTHUR: I think there must be something terribly wrong with the Universe you know.

  FORD: I think there must be something terribly wrong with this ship.

  ARTHUR: Yes, it looks like a mausoleum.

  FORD: Hey, you’re right . . . the place is full of sarcophagi as far as the eye can see. Wild.

  ARTHUR: What’s so great about dead people?

  FORD: I don’t know, let’s have a look. Here, there’s a plaque on this one . . .

  ARTHUR: What does it say?

  FORD: Golgafrincham Ark Fleet, Ship B, Hold Seven, Telephone Sanitizer Second Class, and a serial number.

  ARTHUR: Telephone sanitizer? A dead telephone sanitizer?

  FORD: Best kind.

  ARTHUR: But what’s he doing here?

&n
bsp; FORD: Not a lot.

  ARTHUR: No, but I mean why . . . Good God, this one’s a dead hairdresser.

  FORD: And this one’s an advertising account executive.

  ARTHUR: Are these really coffins? They’re terribly cold.

  F/X: SUDDEN ZAP

  NUMBER TWO: (Very sudden, very loud, very Germanic and Military) All right! Hold it right there!

  FORD: Hello?

  ARTHUR: Why isn’t anyone ever pleased to see us?

  (Fade)

  F/X: FADE UP: BRIDGE. OCCASIONAL SOUND OF SPLASHING WATER

  (The Captain and Number One are both fairly vague, pleasant, ineffectual people)

  NUMBER ONE: Er, captain?

  CAPTAIN: Yes, Number One?

  NUMBER ONE: Just had a sort of report thing from Number Two.

  CAPTAIN: Oh dear.

  NUMBER ONE: He was shouting something or other about having found some prisoners.

  CAPTAIN: Well perhaps that’ll keep him happy for a bit, he’s always wanted some.

  F/X: DOOR OPENS

  NUMBER TWO: Captain sir!

  CAPTAIN: Oh, hello, Number Two, having a nice day?

  NUMBER TWO: I have brought you the prisoners I located in freezer bay seven, sir.

  FORD/ARTHUR: Er, hello.

  CAPTAIN: Oh hello, excuse me not getting up, just having a quick bath. Well, gin and tonics all round then. Look in the fridge Number One.

  NUMBER ONE: Certainly, sir.

  NUMBER TWO: Don’t you want to interrogate the prisoners, sir?

  CAPTAIN: Interrogate them, Number Two?

  NUMBER TWO: Yes sir. Torture them sir, stick matchsticks under their finger nails, stub out lighted cigarettes on their skin, sir . . .

  CAPTAIN: Why on Earth should I want to do that?

  NUMBER TWO: To get information out of them sir.

  CAPTAIN: Oh no no no, I expect they just dropped in for a quick gin and tonic, don’t you?

  NUMBER TWO: Can’t I just interrogate them a little bit?

  CAPTAIN: Oh all right, if you must. Ask them what they want to drink.

  NUMBER TWO: Thank you sir. (Shouting) All right you scum, you vermin . . .

  CAPTAIN: Oh steady on Number Two . . .

  NUMBER TWO: What do you want to drink?

  FORD: Well, the gin and tonic sounds very nice to me. Arthur?

  ARTHUR: What? Oh yes.

  NUMBER TWO: With ice or without!!!!!

  FORD: Oh, with please.

  NUMBER TWO: Lemon?!!!!!!!!!!!

  FORD: Yes please, and do you have any of those little biscuits, you know the cheesy ones . . ?

  NUMBER TWO: I’m asking the questions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  CAPTAIN: Er, Number Two?

  NUMBER TWO: Sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  CAPTAIN: Push off would you, there’s a good chap. I’m trying to have a relaxing bath.

  NUMBER TWO: Sir, may I remind you that you have now been in that bath for over three years!

  CAPTAIN: Yes, well you need to relax a lot in a job like mine.

  ARTHUR: What on Earth’s going on?

  FORD: Could I ask you actually what your job is in fact?

  NUMBER ONE: (Just slipped in) Your drinks.

  FORD: Oh thanks.

  ARTHUR: Thanks.

  FORD: I mean I couldn’t help noticing, you know, the bodies.

  CAPTAIN: Bodies?

  FORD: Yes . . . all those dead telephone sanitizers and account executives, you know, in the hold.

  CAPTAIN: Oh, they’re not dead, Good Lord no, no they’re just frozen, they’re going to be revived.

  ARTHUR: You really mean you’ve got a hold full of frozen hairdressers?

  CAPTAIN: Oh yes, millions of them, hairdressers, tired TV producers, insurance salesmen, personnel officers.

  NUMBER TWO: Security guards.

  CAPTAIN: Management consultants. You name it. We got it. We’re going to colonize another planet.

  ARTHUR: What?

  CAPTAIN: Exciting, isn’t it?

  ARTHUR: What, with that lot?

  CAPTAIN: Oh don’t misunderstand me, we’re just one of the ships in the Ark Fleet, we’re the B Ark you see. Sorry, could I just ask you to run a bit more hot water for me, thanks. Do help yourself to more drinks of course.

  FORD: Thanks.

  ARTHUR: What’s a B Ark.

  CAPTAIN: What? Oh, well what happened you see was our planet was doomed.

  ARTHUR: Doomed?

  CAPTAIN: Oh yes. So what everyone thought was let’s pack the whole population into some giant spaceships and go and settle on another planet.

  ARTHUR: You mean a less doomed one.

  CAPTAIN: Precisely. So it was decided to build three ships, three Arks in space . . . I’m not boring you am I?

  FORD: No, no, it’s fascinating.

  CAPTAIN: It’s delightful to have someone else to talk to for a change. Trouble with a long journey like this is that you end up just talking to yourself a lot, which gets terribly boring because half the time you know what you’re going to say next.

  ARTHUR: Only half the time?

  CAPTAIN: Yes, about half I’d say. Anyway, where’s the soap? Yes, so the idea, was that into the first ship, the A ship, would go all the brilliant leaders, the scientists, the great artists, you know, all the achievers, and then into the third ship the C ship would go all the people who did the actual work, who made things and did things, and then into the B ship, that’s us, would go everyone else, the middlemen you see. And we were sent off first.

  ARTHUR: But what was wrong with your planet?

  CAPTAIN: Oh it was doomed, as I said. Apparently it was going to crash into the sun. Or was it that the moon was going to crash into us?

  NUMBER ONE: Oh, I thought it was that the planet was more or less bound to be invaded by a gigantic swarm of twelve foot piranha bees.

  NUMBER TWO: That’s not what I was told! My commanding officer swore blind that the entire planet was in imminent danger of being eaten by an enormous mutant star-goat!

  FORD: (Humouring them) Oh really . . .

  NUMBER TWO: Yes, and that he was just hoping that the ship he was going in would be ready in time.

  ARTHUR: But they made sure that they sent all you lot off first anyway.

  CAPTAIN: Oh yes, well everyone said, very nicely I thought, that it was very important for morale to feel that they would be arriving on a planet where they could be sure of a good haircut and where the phones were clean.

  FORD: Oh yes, well I can see that would be very important.

  ARTHUR: Can you?

  FORD: Shush . . . and er, the other ships followed on after you did they?

  CAPTAIN: Ah, well it’s funny you should mention that because curiously enough we haven’t actually heard a peep out of them since we left five years ago . . . but they must be behind us somewhere.

  FORD: Unless of course they were eaten by the goat.

  CAPTAIN: (A suspicion of doubt is beginning to creep into his voice) Ah yes the goat . . . hmmmmm . . . it’s a funny thing you know, now that I actually come to tell the story to someone else . . . I mean does it strike you as odd, Number One?

  NUMBER ONE: Errrrrrr . . . ?

  CAPTAIN: Ummmmm . . . ?

  FORD: Well, I can see that you’ve got a lot of things you’re going to want to talk about, so thanks for the drinks, and if you could sort of drop us off at the nearest convenient planet . . .

  CAPTAIN: Ah well that’s a little difficult you see, because our trajectory thingy was pre-set before we left Golgafrincham, I think partly because I’m not actually very good with figures,

  ARTHUR/FORD: (Impatiently) When are you going to reach the planet you’re meant to be colonizing?

  CAPTAIN: Oh, we’re nearly there I think, any second now. It’s probably time I got out of the bath in fact. Oh I don’t know though, why stop just when I’m enjoying it?

  ARTHUR: So we’re actually going to land in a minute?

  CAPTAIN: Well not so much land in fact
. . . I think as far as I can remember we were programmed to crash on it.

  ARTHUR/FORD: Crash??

  CAPTAIN: Yes, it’s all part of the plan I think. There was a terribly good reason for it which I can’t quite remember at the moment . . .

  FORD: You’re a load of useless bloody loonies.

  CAPTAIN: Ah yes, that was it.

  F/X: SHIP CRASHES. A SHORT HOWLING PLUMMET FOLLOWED BY AN EXPLOSION

  GRAMS: NARRATOR BACKGROUND

  NARRATOR: The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about the planet of Golgafrincham; it is a planet with an ancient and mysterious history, in which the most mysterious figures of all are without doubt those of the Great Circling Poets of Arium. These Circling Poets used to live in remote mountain passes where they would lie in wait for small bands of unwary travellers, circle round them and throw rocks at them.

  And when the travellers cried out saying why didn’t they go away and get on with writing some poems instead of pestering people with all this rock throwing business, they would suddenly break off and sing them an incredibly long and beautiful song in which they told of how there once went forth from the city of Vasillian a party of five sage princes with four horses. The first part of the song tells how these five sage princes, who are of course brave, noble and wise, travel widely in distant lands, fight giant ogres, pursue exotic philosophies, take tea with weird gods and rescue beautiful monsters from ravishing princesses before finally announcing that they have achieved enlightenment and that their wanderings are therefore accomplished. The second and much longer part tells of all their bickerings about which one of them is going to have to walk back.

  It was of course a descendant of these eccentric poets who invented the spurious tales of impending doom which enabled the people of Golgafrincham to rid themselves of an entire useless third of their population. The other two thirds, of course, all stayed at home and led full, rich and happy lives until they were all suddenly wiped out by a virulent disease contracted from a dirty telephone.

  Meanwhile, Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect and an arkload of frozen middle management men have crashed into the prehistoric dawn of a small blue green planet circling an unregarded yellow sun at the unfashionable end of the Western spiral arm of the Galaxy. After a year or so they convene a meeting to consider their position, which is not on the whole good.