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This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Arthur had a swordfish steak and said it made him angry. He grabbed a passing waitress by the arm and berated her.
“Why's this fish so bloody good?” he demanded, angrily.
“Please excuse my friend,” said Fenchurch to the startled waitress. “I think he's having a nice day at last.”
The Hitchhiker's Guide
Dirk Gently
Life, the Universe, and Everything
Here was something that Ford felt he could speak about with authority.
“Life,” he said, “is like a grapefruit.”
“Er, how so?”
Well, it's sort of orangy-yellow and dimpled on the outside, wet and squidgy the middle. It's got pips inside, too. Oh, and some people have half a one for breakfast.”
“Is there anyone else out there I can talk to?”
Of course, one never has the slightest notion what size or shape different species are going to turn out to be, but if you were to take the findings of the latest Mid-Galactic Census report as any kind of accurate guide to statistical averages you would probably guess that the craft would hold about six people, and you would be right.
You'd probably guessed that anyway. The Census report, like most such surveys, had cost an awful lot of money and told nobody anything they didn't already know – except that every single person in the Galaxy had 2.4 legs and owned a hyena. Since this was clearly not true the whole thing eventually had to be scrapped.