text
stringlengths 0
65
|
|---|
afterwards. |
The Guide even tells you how you can mix one yourself. |
Take the juice from one bottle of that Ol' Janx Spirit, it says. |
Pour into it one measure of water from the seas of Santraginus V |
- Oh that Santraginean sea water, it says. Oh those Santraginean |
fish!!! |
Allow three cubes of Arcturan Mega-gin to melt into the mixture |
(it must be properly iced or the benzine is lost). |
Allow four litres of Fallian marsh gas to bubble through it, in |
memory of all those happy Hikers who have died of pleasure in the |
Marshes of Fallia. |
Over the back of a silver spoon float a measure of Qualactin |
Hypermint extract, redolent of all the heady odours of the dark |
Qualactin Zones, subtle sweet and mystic. |
Drop in the tooth of an Algolian Suntiger. Watch it dissolve, |
spreading the fires of the Algolian Suns deep into the heart of |
the drink. |
Sprinkle Zamphuor. |
Add an olive. |
Drink ... but ... very carefully ... |
The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy sells rather better than |
the Encyclopedia Galactica. |
"Six pints of bitter," said Ford Prefect to the barman of the |
Horse and Groom. "And quickly please, the world's about to end." |
The barman of the Horse and Groom didn't deserve this sort of |
treatment, he was a dignified old man. He pushed his glasses up |
his nose and blinked at Ford Prefect. Ford ignored him and stared |
out of the window, so the barman looked instead at Arthur who |
shrugged helplessly and said nothing. |
So the barman said, "Oh yes sir? Nice weather for it," and |
started pulling pints. |
He tried again. |
"Going to watch the match this afternoon then?" |
Ford glanced round at him. |
"No, no point," he said, and looked back out of the window. |
"What's that, foregone conclusion then you reckon sir?" said the |
barman. "Arsenal without a chance?" |
"No, no," said Ford, "it's just that the world's about to end." |
"Oh yes sir, so you said," said the barman, looking over his |
glasses this time at Arthur. "Lucky escape for Arsenal if it |
did." |
Ford looked back at him, genuinely surprised. |
"No, not really," he said. He frowned. |
The barman breathed in heavily. "There you are sir, six pints," |
he said. |
Arthur smiled at him wanly and shrugged again. He turned and |
smiled wanly at the rest of the pub just in case any of them had |
heard what was going on. |
None of them had, and none of them could understand what he was |
smiling at them for. |
A man sitting next to Ford at the bar looked at the two men, |
looked at the six pints, did a swift burst of mental arithmetic, |
arrived at an answer he liked and grinned a stupid hopeful grin |
at them. |
"Get off," said Ford, "They're ours," giving him a look that |
would have an Algolian Suntiger get on with what it was doing. |
Ford slapped a five-pound note on the bar. He said, "Keep the |
change." |
"What, from a fiver? Thank you sir." |
"You've got ten minutes left to spend it." |
The barman simply decided to walk away for a bit. |
"Ford," said Arthur, "would you please tell me what the hell is |
going on?" |
"Drink up," said Ford, "you've got three pints to get through." |
"Three pints?" said Arthur. "At lunchtime?" |