DON’T PANIC FADE IN:

EXT. SPACE The inky blackness of space stretching on and on in all directions, stars twinkling away, nebulas twisting colourfully, supernovas erupting silently. In the centre of frame is a small computer pad rotating end over end, data and text scrolling up it in accordance with the narration... THE GUIDE (V.O.) This is the story of a book. (beat) The most remarkable book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor. (beat) It is not only remarkable, but successful too: indeed, in many of the more relaxed civilisations on the Outer Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, it has supplanted the as the standard repository for all knowledge. This is true, despite containing many omissions, and much that is apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate, for two main reasons. (beat) One: it is slightly cheaper. And two: it contains the words DON’T PANIC inscribed in large friendly letters on its cover. The pad closes in on itself, revealing its cover - with the letters DON’T PANIC stencilled on - huge, bold and red. THE GUIDE (V.O.) This book... is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. SWING AROUND to FOCUS on one planet in particular - the Earth. THE GUIDE (V.O.) Such is the depth and breadth of the scope of the Guide, that even an insignificant planet like the Earth has its own article. The Guide pops back into view in the corner of the frame, opening itself up and scrolling down to an article headed “Earth”. 2.

THE GUIDE (V.O.) Unfortunately, due to space constraints and the ineffectuality of the world, the article is condensed down to just one succinct word: (beat) Harmless. The word “HARMLESS” blinks into view over the image of the Earth, flashing a couple of times before disappearing. THE GUIDE (V.O.) For that reason, the Constructor Fleet entering into orbit around this planet expected little in the way of resistance or intelligence. (beat) They were right. Hundreds of oblong-shaped yellow dreadnoughts blast their way noiselessly into Earth’s orbit, each of them descending at a leisurely pace into the atmosphere. FOLLOW the ships down as they take up their positions, and then we: BEGIN MONTAGE -- The Pyramids and the Sphinx disappear into shadow as a Vogon ship appears above them; -- The Taj Mahal changes from gleaming white marble to a stunning pink as the light level changes, with a Vogon ship looming large above it; -- The White House struggles to live up to its name as it is plunged into darkness, dwarfed by the giant vessel hanging in the sky; -- The Eiffel Tower, pushing its way into the clouds, suddenly disappears into shade, before a few seconds later, its lights kick in and it reappears, glowing like a runway at night; -- St Basil’s Cathedral in Red Square vanishes completely in the shadow of the huge Vogon vessel positioned above it - and the sound of several rifle-bolts being drawn back from the nearby Kremlin walls can be clearly heard. -- A London city-street as a ship settles in above it, causing traffic to CRASH into each other - horns BLARE noisily, people climb out of cars to argue, then look up... END MONTAGE 3.

EXT. JODRELL BANK - DAY The huge radio telescope that is the centre of Britain’s astronomical activity. The radar dish is pointing at the sky - in the opposite direction to the one the Vogon ship is approaching from. PUSH IN on the building.

INT. COMPUTER ROOM - CONTINUOUS Where a TECHNICIAN, mid-20s, snotty and geeky, sits hunched over his computer terminal, watching a line monotonously draw itself across the screen. He looks bored out of his mind. He sits back in his chair, glances at his watch, then comes to a decision. Rocking forwards again, he Alt & Tabs away from the screen and onto Facebook, and more specifically FarmVille. He begins planting his crops with speed, engrossed. The red phone perched on his desk RINGS sharply, breaking his concentration. Irritated, he picks up the phone and listens, switching back to the monitoring screen on his computer. TECHNICIAN No, sir. No change. Nothing out of the ordinary far as I can tell. A beat, then: BOSS (O.S.) (so loud it can be heard down the phone) Look out of the bloody window! The technician, freaking a bit, drops the phone on the floor, scrambles to his feet, and hurriedly begins climbing the stairs. STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS Where the technician leaps up the stairs two, three at a time, for once desperate to escape the basement...

EXT. OUTSIDE JODRELL BANK - CONTINUOUS And he bursts outside, looking up at the sky, his eyes going wide... before rolling up as he faints dead away. 4.

EXT. CITY STREET - SAME TIME CAPTION: London, England. A mass pile-up in place, with cars bumper-to-bumper stretching right down the road. But no-one cares. Everyone’s standing on the pavement, looking up. Not just looking - some are staring, some are gawping. Most have mobile phones ready and primed, taking photos and video of this remarkable event. And then, from the ship above them, a small speaker descends just a few feet. It crackles into life... JELTZ (O.S.) (oozing calm) Good day, citizens of the Earth. BEGIN MONTAGE -- The Pyramids and Sphinx again. The voice seems to emanate from the Sphinx itself, like the Voice of the Ages... JELTZ (O.S.) (CONT’D) This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Vogon Construction Fleet. -- The White House, where a crowd has gathered, waiting with bated breath, looking at the entrance to the building... JELTZ (O.S.) (CONT’D) I hereby inform you that in the time period known to you as fifteen minutes, this planet shall be obliterated to make way for the new Alpha Centauri bypass. -- The Eiffel Tower, where people carry on about their business seemingly as normal, not caring about the ships, the voice, or the threat. Someone plays an accordion tunelessly. JELTZ (O.S.) (CONT’D) We apologise for the short notice, but hope that you will enjoy the exciting opportunities the new bypass has to offer. END MONTAGE

EXT. CITY STREET - SAME TIME Back to the street again, where the crowd are still in pretty much the same positions, listening intently. JELTZ (O.S.) Hope you had a pleasant existence. 5.

And that’s it. The speaker retracts back inside the ship. Stunned silence for a few beats. Then -- Chaos. Panic sets in. People run around, up the street, down the street, across the road. Someone runs smack into a lamppost.

INT. CAFE - SAME TIME CAPTION: Rickmansworth, England A small greasy-spoon place, crowded and horrible, filled with workmen and unemployed wanting a cheap meal. PUSH THROUGH the cafe, past a young woman face down in her sandwich, and onto the TV, where the US President is stood before a lectern, about to make a speech. Next to him, the Prime Minister leans into shot, eager to get his face seen. PRESIDENT My fellow citizens. I’m speaking to the world here through the voice of America. Because at a time like this, I believe everyone needs to pull together. (beat) No doubt, by now you’ve all heard the Vogon message. Rest assured, we have top people all around the world trying their utmost to communicate with them...

EXT. MISSILE SILO - SAME TIME A huge bunker perched on a cliff, silhouetted in the enforced darkness, suddenly opens itself up. Inside is a huge missile, sleek and deadly. BLAST! It streaks out of the silo, launching itself upwards with terrific force. PRESIDENT (V.O.) We are striving to find a diplomatic solution to this problem. The missile SHOOTS through the atmosphere. PULL BACK WIDER to REVEAL several more missiles joining it in formation, all of them pointing straight upwards - towards the Vogon vessels... 6.

PRESIDENT (V.O.) But, in case all else fails, we have countermeasures in place. (beat) Fifteen minutes may not seem like long, but it’s more than enough time for us to strike back if need be. (beat) Now it’s time for me to ask you to do something for us. For all the human race. (beat) Never before in the entirety of our history have we faced a crisis like this. (beat) We’re all in this together. So now’s the time to put aside all our petty differences. (beat) Because, when our backs are against the wall, we shall line up together, all of us, and prove once and for all, that humanity shall not disappear - we will stand together, and we will fight to the end! APPLAUSE and CHEERING drown out the last of the President’s words, but the intent is clear - this is humanity’s crossroads. The missiles burn closer and closer towards the Vogon ships, ready for the attack...

INT. VOGON CANTEEN - SAME TIME A huge, horrible room, all green and slime, with several Vogon workers sitting around on the scattered tables. The look similar to the room they’re sitting in - green, gunky and gloopy, and most of them are huge hulking gloopy gunks. The lead table has seven Vogons sitting at it, most of them slurping a brown liquid out of metal cups, whilst at the head of the table sits JELTZ. Unlike the other Vogons, Jeltz has a modicum of intelligence - or that might just be a slightly curved brow due to inbreeding. He twists his arm around to look at a device on his elbow, then gets to his feet urgently. 7.

JELTZ (shouting to the room) Drink up, lads. We’ve got work to do. There’s a chorus of MOANS and GRUNTS from the assorted workers. NARDANG, Jeltz’s younger, higher-pitched number two, crosses his legs in an act of defiance, staring down Jeltz. JELTZ (CONT’D) No point being like that. NARDANG Can’t we have a sly five more? JELTZ You’ve had over as it is. Need I remind everyone that we’re on performance-based pay now? (beat) We’ve three more planets to do before dinnertime...

EXT. OUTSIDE VOGON SHIPS - SAME TIME The missiles, hundreds of them now, flying in perfect formation, STREAK towards the ships, getting closer and closer...

INT. VOGON CORRIDORS - SAME TIME As the Vogon workers, led by Jeltz amble down the corridors, grumbling, shrugging on their yellow hi-vis jackets as they trundle on. Jeltz stops by a heavy-set door, and places his stubby hand on a locking mechanism. The door CREAKS open, and Jeltz steps through onto: THE BRIDGE Where he purposefully continues his brisk stride, marching straight up to a chair set on a dais far above the rest of the low-tech grungy room. He settles into the chair, which swivels around automatically. Pushing a button on the chair arm, Jeltz activates a viewscreen, which flickers into life before him... 8.

EXT. OUTSIDE VOGON SHIPS - SAME TIME The missiles are almost there, within touching distance... This is the time... And then - the missiles MELT away, vanishing from existence as they come into contact with an energy barrier of some kind.

INT. VOGON BRIDGE - SAME TIME Jeltz, watching this, SNORTS, amused at the turn of events. JELTZ Apathetic bloody planet. I’ve no sympathy at all. And with that, he slams a fat finger down on a huge red button set into the chair arm.

EXT. OUTSIDE VOGON SHIP - SAME TIME The base of the ship opens up, revealing a huge destructor cannon, a device that reeks of death. It TILTS itself downwards, pointing directly at the ground, and begins to power up, energy radiating off it noisily. Then it stops. A WHITE-HOT BEAM shoots out of the cannon viciously, aiming straight for the ground, hitting it in seconds and CRUMPLING it instantly...

EXT. SPACE - SAME TIME ON the Earth, as the Vogon ships activate their destructor cannons in unison. The planet’s unable to withstand the sheer power, and FOLDS in on itself, the whole world CRUNCHING down like someone screwing up a paper ball. Until... NOTHING. The planet has gone. Folded in on itself in an example of physics gone mad. All that remains are the Vogon ships, now orbiting nothing, before they begin to move off to their next destination. 9.

FOCUS on the space where the Earth was, as “Journey of the Sorcerer” by The Eagles kicks in, and we: BLACK OUT. JACK DAVENPORT DAVID TENNANT

LENORA CRICHLOW and EDDIE IZZARD

the HITCHHIKER’SHITCHHIKER’S GUIDEGUIDE to the GALAXYGALAXY

FIT THE FIRST With

RAY WINSTONE TIM HEALY JESSICA HYNES MATTHEW KELLY and STEPHEN FRY as the voice of The Guide

Adapted by PETE D. GASKELL

Based on the works of

Producers ADAM SCOTT TRIX

Executive Producer A. J. BLACK 10.

FADE IN: ON a black chasm that fills the frame - a dreadful WAILING sound echoes, as we... PULL BACK to REVEAL , yawning his head off in bed.

INT. ARTHUR’S BEDROOM - DAY The best word to describe Arthur is average - middle-aged, medium height, medium build, nothing distinguishable at all. Very average. He finishes yawning, then holds his head in pain, closing his eyes. Turning over, he buries his head in his pillow for a beat, before: “Daydream Believer” by The Monkees plays tinnily from his digital alarm clock. Arthur’s hand appears, and he SLAPS the alarm-clock off, before climbing out of bed wearily. He stretches, winces, then reaches for his scruffy patterned dressing-gown, whilst hitting his answering machine. There’s a BEEP, then a message filters through: LANDLORD (V.O.) Morning, Arthur. Dave from the Red Lion. You got yourself in a bit of a state last night, so I gave you a lift back. Arthur puzzles over that for a moment, opening his dressing- gown and looking down, confused. Looking over at his chair, he sees his clothes neatly folded on the back. Arthur’s brow creases, and he shivers involuntarily. The answering-machine springs to life again, this time with a DOUBLE BEEP, before a lilting voice comes over: TRICIA (V.O.) Hi, Arthur. It’s me. I’ve kinda been putting this off for a while, so I think it’s about time I say it now. (beat) I’m sorry I haven’t been round your place recently, or answered your calls or anything. Though I have noticed them. All of them. (beat) (MORE) 11. TRICIA (V.O.) (CONT'D) It’s just...I’ve met this guy, and we’ve started travelling. And it’s fun. And exciting. (beat) I think it’s time we move on. You know what I mean. Let’s just be friends, eh? Arthur leaps across the room to the answering machine, switching off the machine violently. ARTHUR Stupid bloody machine. Thought I’d deleted that ages ago. He falls back onto the bed, hands over his face, shaking his head. ARTHUR (CONT’D) Know what I need now? Nothing else for it...

INT. ARTHUR’S KITCHEN - DAY ON Arthur’s kettle as it boils. CAPTION: FOUR HOURS TO THE END OF THE EARTH Arthur quickly pours the boiling water into his teacup, gives it a quick stir, dumps the teabag, and takes a quick sip. And regrets it immediately. He BASHES the cup down on the sideboard and begins breathing quickly and batting his mouth - far, far too hot. He rushes out of the room, not noticing a huge yellow BULLDOZER pulling up outside, reflected in the kitchen window...

INT. ARTHUR’S BATHROOM - DAY As Arthur squidges the last of his shaving cream into his hand - a couple of dribbles. He pats it onto his cheeks - but it’s nowhere near enough. Grumbling, he reaches for his cut-throat razor and begins hacking through his bristles, whistling as he does so. It’s not long, though, before he cuts a little too deep, and draws some blood. ARTHUR Damn. 12.

Bending down, he reaches for a sheet of toilet-paper, not noticing the bulldozer trundle into view in the window behind him. Popping back up, Arthur applies the toilet-paper to his chin, staunching the wound. With his other hand, he adjusts the angle of his shaving- mirror, and the bulldozer becomes visible in the reflection. Arthur doesn’t notice, though, and continues shaving nonchalantly for a beat or two. Then his eyes widen and he leans forward, staring at the bulldozer. His jaw drops. And then he jolts back - his razor was still on his cheek, and now it’s gashed him a bit. ARTHUR (CONT’D) Bugger. He reaches for some more toilet-paper, grabs a handful, and runs out of the bathroom...

EXT. ARTHUR’S DRIVEWAY - DAY Arthur’s moodily lying on his back in a muddy puddle on his crazy-paved driveway. He’s still wearing his dressing-gown, and the mud has started to seep in. A shadow casts itself over Arthur’s prone form. He looks up to find himself confronted with a squat, bald, hassled construction worker - MR. PROSSER. CAPTION: ONE HOUR TO THE END OF THE EARTH PULL BACK to REVEAL that Arthur is lying directly in front of a bulldozer, which is stalling rather noisily. The frustrated driver behind the wheel gestures at Prosser to hurry up. Prosser takes a deep breath, removes his hard hat, and bends down to talk to Arthur. PROSSER Listen, Mr. Dent. I don’t think we’re getting anywhere here. ARTHUR Perfectly fine with me. PROSSER Yeah, well, it’s not with me. (beat) I’ve got a job to do, you know. (MORE) 13. PROSSER (CONT'D) You’re... you’re holding up the march of progress! Arthur scoffs at this rather loudly. ARTHUR March of progress! Pah. What difference would demolishing my home accomplish in the grand scheme of things? PROSSER Well... it’d help us build the bypass. ARTHUR (sarcastically) Oh, the bypass! Of course! (beat, then) I don’t give a toss about the bloody bypass! Prosser narrows his eyes - he thinks he’s onto a winner here. PROSSER If you don’t care about any of this... then why are you kicking up such a fuss about it? ARTHUR A fuss? (beat) Because it’s my home, damn it! I think I should get some sort of say in the matter! PROSSER It’s been in the works for months. ARTHUR Well then, why did I only hear about it yesterday? PROSSER Not my fault. I didn’t send out a note or anything. ARTHUR Well, apparently, no-one did - that’s the point. Beads of sweat begin to appear on Prosser’s brow. He wipes them away with a mucky glove before continuing his assault. PROSSER You’ll like the new bypass, though. Traffic’s gonna be a lot better. 14.

ARTHUR How’s it going to be better for me? I work at the radio station. I want to get into the city, not skirt around it. PROSSER Well then it helps, doesn’t it? You can buy a flat or something in the city. He gestures at Arthur’s house - a detached, quaint, yet slightly odd-looking building. Indefinably odd. Just... not quite right. PROSSER (CONT’D) I mean, it’s not like it’s a particularly nice house or anything. ARTHUR (flustered) Not a nice... well, thanks for your opinion. (beat) But it’s not just a house to me. It’s a home. He sits up rather violently, boring holes into Prosser’s gaze, as the construction worker begins to fidget and shuffle. ARTHUR (CONT’D) Tell me, then. Why would the bypass help me? PROSSER Erm... He looks up at the horizon, and: FREEZE-FRAME THE GUIDE (V.O.) The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of bypasses. A horizontal white line draws itself incongruously across the frame. The two ends are labelled “A” and “B” in white letters. THE GUIDE (V.O.) A bypass is a method to allow people who live at Point A to get to Point B quickly, and vice versa. 15.

A short vertical line draws itself upwards from the middle of the horizontal line, and the end is labelled “C”. THE GUIDE (V.O.) People who live at Point C, a point directly in between Points A and B, wonder what is so exciting about Points A and B that people feel the need to get there so quickly. A dot appears in the top right-hand corner of the frame, and is labelled with a “D”. THE GUIDE (V.O.) Mr. Prosser wanted to live at Point D, which is nowhere specific, except a good distance away from Points A, B and C, and the resulting conflict thereof. Another dot appears next to “D”, similarly labelled “E”. THE GUIDE (V.O.) Although in reality he wanted to spend as much time as possible at Point E, which would be the nearest pub to Point D. The lines and dots vanish to whence they came, and: END FREEZE-FRAME Prosser looks back down at Arthur and nods solemnly. PROSSER You know what? Let’s stop arguing, eh? He spins on his heel, leaving Arthur squelching in the mud as he heads for the lead bulldozer. Not breaking stride, Prosser hoists himself up, opens the cabin door, reaches inside and retrieves... a Thermos. Opening the flask and taking a swig of the coffee inside, he points at Arthur with the lid. PROSSER (CONT’D) You know how much damage it would do to this bulldozer... He clanks the bulldozer with the flask, spilling coffee everywhere. PROSSER (CONT’D) ...if I let it run over you? 16.

Arthur shrugs - which is a messy manoeuvre when you’re lying in a puddle of mud. PROSSER (CONT’D) None at all. ON Arthur as he takes this in, and we: FREEZE-FRAME THE GUIDE (V.O.) By a strange coincidence, the words “none at all” also apply to the chance that Arthur Dent knew that his good friend was not from Guildford as he claimed, but actually from a small planet orbiting the star of Betelgeuse in the Orion Belt. (beat) And by another strange coincidence, this is when Ford Prefect chooses to make his introduction... END FREEZE-FRAME ON Arthur as a shadow falls across him, and Arthur squints upwards. SWING AROUND to REVEAL FORD PREFECT. Ford’s electric-shock hair and wild eyes, coupled with his pin-striped suit and hideous tie, mark him out as someone who doesn’t give two hoots what others think of them - he’s living his life by his rules. He looks Arthur straight in the eye as he speaks. FORD Hello, Arthur. I need a drink. Leaning in, he grins twistedly as he continues. FORD (CONT’D) And by the looks of things, so do you. (beat) Pub? Arthur closes his eyes in irritation, hoping for some unspecified higher power to give him strength. ARTHUR You know, however tempting that might sound, I’m kind of in the middle of something here. Ford jumps back, for the first time appreciating Arthur’s sticky (and muddy) situation. 17.

FORD Is it fun? ARTHUR What? FORD That. Mud-bathing. Never tried it. ARTHUR (pure sarcasm) Oh yes, it’s wonderful. I’m having the time of my life. ON Ford as that huge grin kicks in again. FREEZE-FRAME THE GUIDE (V.O.) It’s a well-known fact that they don’t have sarcasm on Betelgeuse. (beat) But if they did, they’d have the best sarcasm in the universe. END FREEZE-FRAME Ford jumps down into the puddle, pushing Arthur to one side and rolling around, getting thoroughly mudded. Arthur thinks about saying something but doesn’t, resorting to biting his lip instead. FORD I can see where you’re coming from, actually. It’s good fun, this. In an... oozy sort of way. (beat) What’s that? He points with an outstretched hand at the bulldozer bearing down on the pair of them. ARTHUR That’s about to knock my house down. FORD (nodding) Ah. Right. (beat) Bit inefficient, isn’t it? ARTHUR What? Ford nods in the direction of the bulldozer. 18.

FORD Look at it. It’s all clumsy and just... immobile. Definitely not the best thing for the job. (beat) Dare say I could knock up something better myself, given a bunch of monkey-nuts and time. He stops mid-flow, his mouth forming the shape of an O. FORD (CONT’D) Time. Something we haven’t got much of. Sitting up, he holds out a hand for Arthur, who just stares back at him. FORD (CONT’D) And alcohol. We need that. Something else we’re short of. (beat) But the pub isn’t. Coming? Arthur chooses his words carefully. ARTHUR I would, but there’s something you have to understand, Ford. (beat) No matter how inefficient you may think it is, that bulldozer will knock my house down. FORD It can do it while you’re away, can’t it? ARTHUR (exploding at last) But I don’t want it to! Ford looks from Arthur to the bulldozer, to Arthur’s house, and then back to Arthur again, realisation dawning on his face. FORD Ah. So that’s why you’re... Then he looks at Prosser, and he raises his eyebrow. FORD (CONT’D) No matter. Sure we can come to an arrangement. ARTHUR Arrangement? 19.

He flaps around in the mud, but Ford’s already long gone, striding over to Prosser, who’s locked in a discussion with another worker. PROSSER ...you mean, have this as one massive tea-break? (beat) You really reckon you can go the rest of the week without? Rather you than me, son. FORD ‘Scuse me. Prosser turns to the newcomer, dismissing his fellow worker with a wave of the hand. PROSSER Yeah? FORD Are you here to knock my friend’s house down? He nods behind him at Arthur and, by default, Arthur’s house. PROSSER Surprised that miserable sod has a friend. FORD (suddenly hard) You’re not answering my question. PROSSER (taken aback) Ye... yeah, we are. FORD Good. Though you’re probably resigned to not doing it today, right? PROSSER Well, we... FORD Oh, come off it. You’ve been here since this morning and, judging by the tracks on the ground, you’ve moved barely two feet since then. PROSSER You’re probably right. FORD Good. 20.

He throws an arm around Prosser’s shoulder and gently leads him back to Arthur and the puddle. FORD (CONT’D) So, if you’re resigned to not moving today, then my friend can come with me to the pub for an hour or so, yeah? PROSSER I s’pose. FORD Hoopy. He extends an arm, pulling a surprised Arthur to his feet, before he looks back at Prosser. FORD (CONT’D) Now if you’d just lie down there... PROSSER What? FORD Oh, did I not make myself clear? (beat) Someone has to lie in the way, otherwise there’d be nothing to stop that thing, would there? PROSSER (resigned) All right. He gets down onto his haunches, then settles into the mud, closes his eyes and groans. Ford, pleased, looks at Arthur. FORD Right. Pub.

INT. THE RED LION - DAY A quiet, quaint, traditional village pub. Roaring log fire, stale beer, musty regulars. Ford bursts in, followed a few seconds later by a rather bemused Arthur. Ford ushers him to a window table, whilst he makes his way to the bar. Confronted by an over-the-hill, aging BARMAN, Ford runs a hand through his hair. FORD Six pints of lager, please. 21.

The barman blinks back at him, then shifts his gaze to Arthur, raising an eyebrow. BARMAN Hair of the dog, eh? FORD What? No. I meant beer. He turns away for a second, before whipping round to face the barman again. FORD (CONT’D) Although... what kind of dog? The barman gives him a puzzled look, before slowly moving to the beer-pump, where he begins leisurely pouring the pints. Ford, anxious, drums his fingers against the bar. FORD (CONT’D) Hurry up! The world’s about to end! BARMAN (humouring him) Oh? Nice day for it. FORD No. Not really. At last the barman returns, complete with pints. BARMAN Thirteen-twenty, mate. Ford pats down his pockets, retrieves his wallet, and ferrets out a rumpled note. FORD Only got a fiver, sorry. He puts a finger to his lip in thought. FORD (CONT’D) Tell you what. I’ll have a glass of wine as well. BARMAN But you’ve only got a... FORD (seriously) Never mind that. The barman, deciding it’s best not to argue, places a bottle of wine on the bar and uncorks it. 22.

He grabs a glass and is about to pour when he’s stopped by Ford’s hand grabbing his wrist. FORD (CONT’D) No. Because this is what I’ll do. (beat) If I can pour the wine into the glass without touching the bottle, I take the lot for just the fiver. (beat) If I can’t, have the wine for yourself, and we’ll stump up the rest. Got it? BARMAN (baffled) All right. Ford smirks knowingly. THE GUIDE (V.O.) It is well-known that wherever alcohol has been discovered, games have been developed to encourage more consumption. Ford settles into a pose facing the bottle and narrows his eyes. THE GUIDE (V.O.) Quite why the simple act of drinking needs to have all this hoopla surrounding it is another of those mysteries of life. The bottle begins to steadily shake. THE GUIDE (V.O.) By far the most famous drinking game in the galaxy is chiefly played on the Kelfonian Mining Moons. (beat) In this game, two players attempt to levitate a bottle of Ol’ Janx Spirit and pour it into their opponent’s glass. The bottle raises up off the bar top and scoots along to Ford’s glass. THE GUIDE (V.O.) The loser then has to drink said glass. (beat) (MORE) 23. THE GUIDE (V.O.) (CONT'D) Once a player starts to lose, they almost always continue in that vein, as the alcohol works to suppress natural powers of ESP. The bottle tilts and begins pouring the wine into the waiting glass, much to the barman’s astonishment, and Ford’s pleasure. THE GUIDE (V.O.) Ford Prefect usually plays to lose. Ford smirks at the barman in victory, picks up the filled glass, clinks the bottle, and downs the wine. He picks up the six pint glasses in his hands, grabs the bottle of wine with his teeth, and makes his way over to the table where Arthur sits, looking out of the window. Ford puts down the glasses, shuffling three over to Arthur, who looks surprised. ARTHUR Three pints? At lunchtime? FORD As good a time as any. ARTHUR Why? FORD Muscle relaxant. ARTHUR Muscle relaxant? FORD Yes. FOCUS on the pint glasses, as Arthur picks them up and steadily starts to drink. THE GUIDE (V.O.) Alcohol, in all its various guises and forms throughout the galaxy, is renowned for its many possible uses. Some are obvious, some less so. The first glass lands back on the table, empty. There’s a brief pause, then the second glass is lifted. THE GUIDE (V.O.) For example, in the Selachi system, alcohol has seventy-six different functions in a traditional wedding ceremony alone. (MORE) 24. THE GUIDE (V.O.) (CONT'D) (beat) These range from the traditional toast to the happy couple, to the always-useful cauterizing of wounds during the ritual wedding dance (the Selachians have twenty-four limbs, thus making line dancing particularly hazardous) to the unique drenching of a bride as she walks up the aisle - thus giving meaning to the term “bridal shower”. The second glass descends toward the table with a slight shake. THE GUIDE (V.O.) By far the most common use of alcohol in day-to-day galactic hitchhiking is to ease the muscles before rapid transportation, thus preventing dangerous stomach- ripping. (beat) This has the unfortunate side- effect of making most hitchhikers alcoholics. Although that also applies both ways. Arthur raises the third glass to his lips, shaking a little bit now. He has a quick sip, then holds the glass in the ready position below his jaw. FORD Arthur, would it surprise you if I told you that I’m not really from Guildford, but from a small planet orbiting Betelgeuse instead? Cue a very blank look from Arthur - comprehension is out of the question. ARTHUR I don’t know. Is it something you’re likely to say? Ford shrugs, and Arthur puts the glass down on the table slowly. ARTHUR (CONT’D) Is it wrong that nothing you’re saying makes any sense, and I don’t seem to mind? A heavy RUMBLING sound from O.S. prevents Ford from replying, but it would have made no difference anyway, as Arthur breaks away from the conversation, turning to the window. 25.

ARTHUR (CONT’D) What’s that? Ford, pint in hand, shrugs again. FORD (casually) It’s probably just the construction people knocking down your house. ARTHUR Oh. Right. (beat, then:) WHAT?! FORD Don’t worry about it. It won’t matter in a few minutes anyway. ARTHUR Won’t matter? He pushes his chair back and leaps to his feet, sweeping straight out of the pub without a look back, dressing-gown flapping in the breeze. Ford shakes his head and leans over, downing the last of Arthur’s pints in record time. A quiet BUZZ emanates from Ford’s shoulder-bag, and he breaks out into a huge grin. Jumping to his feet in a burst of manic energy, Ford runs toward the bar, leaps over it, and gathers up handfuls of packs of crisps. The barman rushes over to confront him. FORD Take this. Take all of it. He throws the barman his wallet, then jumps back over the bar and makes for the door. BARMAN What’s the occasion, mate? FORD End of the world. Don’t want to miss it! The barman just blinks back at him. BARMAN You serious? 26.

FORD (darkly) Oh yes. And with that, he races out of the door, leaving the barman gaping in stunned silence. He reaches for a small bell hanging from the bar, and hits it, causing it to CLANG. BARMAN Last orders, please.

EXT. ARTHUR’S DRIVEWAY - DAY Arthur’s charging down the drive, arms waving, legs pumping, dressing-gown flapping. ARTHUR (hollering) You barbarians! Wait ‘til I get to you! I’ll tear you to pieces! And then jump on them, until, until...I’ve had enough! SWING AROUND to reveal the driveway, the bulldozer, and the construction workers. Arthur’s oblivious to everything in his blind fury. Everything in this instance consists of elements like - the strangely darkened sky, the stationary bulldozers, the workmen running away from their vehicles, and Mr Prosser, staring at the sky, wielding his Thermos like an axe. PROSSER Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough! Arthur’s still racing down the driveway, all arms and legs, until they combine awkwardly, causing him to trip over, landing on his back. His eyes widen as he takes in what he sees. He points a hesitant, shaking finger up at the sky. ARTHUR (squeaking) What the hell are THEY? TILT UP to take in the menacing sight of two Vogon cruisers, hanging in the air in much the same way that bricks don’t. Ford races over to him, ferreting around in his shoulder-bag. FORD Vogon ships. 27.

ARTHUR What? FORD Never mind. Call them big, funnily shaped taxis if you like. He pulls out a fluffy towel, which he tucks under one arm while he continues to dig. Next emerges a rather dog-eared script - a glance at the title reveals it to be for a supernatural detective show. FORD (CONT’D) Won’t be needing that. He throws it away, before reaching into his bag once more, this time producing a long, thin, silver vibrating gadget. ARTHUR What’s that? FORD Different things at different times. (beat) Right now, it’s getting us out of here. Unfolding the towel and draping it over both Arthur and himself, Ford points the gadget at the sky and presses a button. A green BEAM of energy streams upward, and Ford and Arthur begin to disappear. JELTZ (O.S.) Good day, citizens of the Earth... PULL BACK dramatically, zooming away from the ground, until:

EXT. SPACE We’re looking at the Earth again... or rather the space where the Earth used to be. Continue to PULL BACK until we get to: THE MILKY WAY Spinning rather slowly on its own particular axis, assuming it has one. THE GUIDE (V.O.) The destruction of Earth obviously had a devastating effect on humans. (beat) (MORE) 28. THE GUIDE (V.O.) (CONT'D) But in galactic terms, the event was barely more than a footnote. There were far more interesting and important matters happening around the galaxy at the very same time. An incongruous bowl of cornflakes and a jug of milk appear, superimposed on the image of the galaxy. THE GUIDE (V.O) As everyone knows, the main source of news in the galaxy is breakfast TV. (beat) The most important element in the creation of a successful programme are the presenters chosen to host it. (beat) In defiance of all rhyme and reason, these presenters need to be vapid, turgid, dull and boring, with voices that drone on incessantly in a monotone. (beat) Many believe this is an active attempt by the TV producers to combat the insomnia epidemic afflicting many university worlds. (beat) However, if the TV executives want to be bold with their programming, they choose another style of presenting entirely. This focuses completely on one key element. (beat) Breasts. A pair of bountiful breasts, confined within a bra and a blouse, fill the frame. PULL BACK to see they belong to: LOREEN YELEK A lovely motherly figure, big-boned and beautiful, friendly and chatty. Think the aunt you had a crush on when you were six and you wouldn’t be far wrong. She’s sitting in:

INT. LOREEN’S STUDIO - DAY Which has the traditional garish pastel-coloured furniture, a view of a double-sunrise, and Loreen herself, sitting on the sofa, beaming into camera. 29.

LOREEN Later on, we’ll be having Eccentrica Gallumbits modelling her new tri-cupped bikini for the larger figure. She shuffles, repositions herself, then beams again. LOREEN (CONT’D) But first, time for a live exclusive interview with none other than the President himself.

INT. BEDROOM - SAME TIME ON a huge, gold-encrusted king-sized bed - and a man and a woman locked in a passionate kiss. The woman’s a busty blonde - NINA. The man is infinitely more interesting. Middle-aged, bearded, devilish and handsome all wrapped into one. A spark behind the eyes indicating intelligence. Another spark indicating madness. This is the President of the Galaxy. . PAN ACROSS to the other side of the bed, where a sultry brunette, VERUSHKA, is also kissing a man - and tugging his hair. FOCUS on the man - and we see it’s the same man. Zaphod again. PULL BACK to REVEAL that he has two heads, and is taking full advantage of that fact. A long limb begins to appear directly in the middle of Zaphod’s body, raising itself up vertically underneath the sheets. And then it pulls them back... It’s a third arm. Zaphod’s third arm. LOREEN (O.S.) Mr. President? WHIP PAN to FOCUS on a monitor set into the back wall - and Loreen’s shining smile beaming from it. PAN ACROSS to the bed, where Zaphod sits up, his right head pulling away from Nina, who begins to massage his shoulders instead. 30.

ZAPHOD Please, call me Zaphod. Or the Big Z. I like that. LOREEN I think I’ll go with Zaphod, all the same. Thanks. (beat) It’s a pleasure to meet you. ZAPHOD The pleasure’s mine. I love doing interviews. Particularly when it’s a female interviewer. LOREEN Why’s that? ZAPHOD Brings out the beast in me. LOREEN You’re a beast? ZAPHOD Well, I’ve been called beastly in the past. Think that qualifies. Loreen’s frozen - her professionalism slipping a touch. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Anyway. You wanted to ask me a few questions? LOREEN (pulling herself together) Er, yeah. ZAPHOD As I said last night, fire away. LOREEN All right. Er, today’s going to be a big day for you, isn’t it? ZAPHOD Yeah. Very yeah. LOREEN How big, would you say? ZAPHOD Bigger than the biggest thing ever. (beat) But not quite as big as... He winks and nods down below. 31.

LOREEN That big, then? ZAPHOD Well, I don’t like to boast... LOREEN The unveiling. ZAPHOD Thought you’d never ask. LOREEN Of the ship. ZAPHOD Oh yeah. Right. Yeah, definitely. It’s like the second biggest reason I ran for this gig. LOREEN Got to ask. What’s the first? ZAPHOD Raising the limit for drink- piloting. Sometimes you just have to let go, y’know? Loreen’s lost again, staring into space, her mind elsewhere. Something OS snaps her back to reality. LOREEN Sure you do. Anyway, we’re running out of time here - we’ve got to do the weather for the galaxy next, and that takes a while. ZAPHOD Yeah, no worries. Great to talk to ya. And tell Eccentrica I want my blue shirt back. Loreen smiles and nods, whilst Zaphod collapses back into his pillow. Then he notices that Loreen’s still on the screen. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Hey... you realise I can still see you? LOREEN Oh yeah. Someone else does the weather. ZAPHOD Ah. Good. Felt we should clear that up, y’know? 32.

LOREEN You’re a funny guy, you know that? ZAPHOD Well, yeah. I’ve been called funny before. But I don’t know in what context. Loreen’s smile goes still wider - genuine affection, not forced flirtation. LOREEN Bet you’re even funnier in private. ZAPHOD Much. There’s something about a one- to-one that’s... stimulating. LOREEN Shall we arrange one for our next interview? Zaphod smirks. ZAPHOD Definitely. Get in touch with my PA. She’ll sort you out. Loreen beams a thank-you smile, and finally switches off. Zaphod breathes out, glad to get rid, before turning back to Nina. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Now where was I? SLAM! The bedroom doors burst open, and a storm in woman form bursts through. This is . 20s, classy, sexy, confident, and super- smart. She’s wearing a suit, has her frizzy hair scraped back, and her eyes are in full death-stare mode. Meet Zaphod’s PA. She breezes up to Nina, leans down and whispers in her ear. TRILLIAN Get lost. Dropping a handful of notes into Nina’s lap, she scurries over to Verushka, and whispers in her ear as well. TRILLIAN (CONT’D) Scram. She gives Verushka a wad of cash as well, then takes a couple of steps back. Both girls greedily take a look at the amount of money they’ve been given, before making fast exits. 33.

ZAPHOD You know, if you were a bit nicer to them, we might get them back a second time. TRILLIAN That’s the thing. You’re too nice. ZAPHOD Hey, I’m paid to be nice. TRILLIAN So are they. She heads over to a large wooden wardrobe and opens it up, disappearing inside. She starts to look for clothes for Zaphod, throwing them out into the bedroom as she finds them. TRILLIAN (CONT’D) Anyway, you’re not going to be doing this for much longer. (beat, then, concerned:) Do you really want to go through with this? Zaphod ponders for a moment. ZAPHOD It’s a big risk, yeah. But it’s the kinda thing I’ve been missing. That excitement, y’know? TRILLIAN The adrenaline rush? ZAPHOD That as well. For the first time, he drops his mask of suave womaniser, and we see the man beneath. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) I mean, when I first took this job, I loved it. And there’s some hoopy things to do, definitely. (beat) But I didn’t realise how much hard work it’d be. All this boring stuff that I have to do now. Trillian coughs at that. TRILLIAN That you have to do? 34.

Zaphod doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm. He’s from Betelgeuse, after all. ZAPHOD Yeah. All that bureaucracy and red- tape. Speeches and shit. Really not my style. TRILLIAN And what is your style? She throws out a blue navy jacket for Zaphod, then hauls out a suitcase, which she opens. ZAPHOD Everything else. The fun’s in the journey, not the destination. So let’s get back to journeying, eh? Trillian’s now packing things in the case for herself. TRILLIAN Won’t you miss it? ZAPHOD Nah. I mean, it’s been a wild ride, yeah. But every ride’s gotta end sometime. Trillian produces a cane, which she snaps out to it’s full length, then tosses in the air. It somersaults in the air for a while, before it’s caught by a now fully-dressed Zaphod, looking dapper, stylish and eccentric all at once. He kicks the cane behind him and spins around, ready to go. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Time to take the plunge, babe. Trillian nods, producing the last item from the wardrobe, and packing it carefully in the case. It’s an unusual design, and style, but there’s only one thing it could be. A gun.

EXT. SERVELLIAN SEA - DAY PAN ACROSS the sweeping pink waters, with the waves surging, the sea turbulent yet beautiful. PUSH IN on one spot in particular, on a sleek silver speedboat that’s cutting through the water with ease. 35.

There are two passengers on deck. One of them is Trillian, lying in a bikini on a sun bed, taking in the tanning powers of two suns. For the first time, she looks relaxed. The other passenger is Zaphod, sitting in a deck chair, reading a script, bored out of his mind. He turns the page, and, realising there’s more, crumples his head into it in disgust. ZAPHOD This is what I meant. Seventeen pages. Seventeen bloody pages. Half the words are the same. Waste. Of. Time. TRILLIAN Hmmm? She sits up, then winces, feeling her neck. She’s starting to burn. Zaphod looks between Trillian and his script, thinks for a second, then grins. He grabs the script, and, with slight of hand, skill, and a little luck, successfully creates an origami-style hat. He shuffles over to Trillian and plonks it on her head. TRILLIAN (CONT’D) Thanks. ZAPHOD No worries. (beat) You like this? He gestures around him at the sea. TRILLIAN Yeah. There’s no pressure, it’s... different. Good different. ZAPHOD Glad you like it. ‘Cos this is what it’s gonna be like every day from now on. No more deadlines or meetings or scripts. Just the two of us being really hoopy froods forever. Trillian looks a touch uncomfortable. TRILLIAN It’s just... what will I do? Being your PA’s going to be a bit redundant, isn’t it? 36.

ZAPHOD Yeah, but I know that’s not the real you. Same as Politician Guy isn’t me. (beat) We’re the same, you and me. Free spirits, wanderers. We should be like weird birds, flying around in space forever. (beat) Having fun. They share a smile, Zaphod’s comforting, Trillian’s comforted, until Zaphod spots the rapidly approaching shore. The beach is crammed with people, pushing, shoving and jostling - typical journalists, really. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Okay. Showtime.

EXT. SERVELLIAN BEACH - CONTINUOUS The speedboat zips through the water towards the beach, before tipping up, sending Zaphod hurling into the air. He SOMERSAULTS, opening up his cape, and lands gracefully with a huge grin plastered across both faces. The gathered journalists instantly surround him, snapping photos, pushing tape recorders into him. He waves at the gathered crowd, soaking up the applause, relishing it. And then a hand grabs his third hand and begins pulling him through the crowd - Trillian, dragging along her suitcase behind her. The crowd parts like the Red Sea, allowing the man of the moment to stride like a god through them - relishing this. He stops every so often for a photo, always accompanied with a cheeky wink and a flashing smile.

EXT. HILLSIDE - DAY A line of scientists, decked out in suits and lab coats, are standing on a pathway, waiting to meet Zaphod. The man himself brashly walks up to meet them, shaking hands with each of them, whispering encouraging comments in their ears. Trillian pulls him along the line impatiently. 37.

The last scientist is a super-intelligent shade of the colour blue, trapped in a prism for this special occasion. Zaphod bends down to look at it, impressed. ZAPHOD Great work, man. Seriously awesome. Though I don’t wanna praise you too much. Don’t want you turning red! (a grin, then:) Not being racist, am I? Trillian looks at him and taps her wrist, her meaning clear. Getting up, Zaphod leaves behind the scientists and climbs up onto a podium overlooking a hill opposite. Sitting on the top of that hill is a shining silver dome. Zaphod approaches a panel set into the guide-rail around the podium and pushes a big red button. The dome reacts to the control, fireworks EXPLODING off it into the sky. It begins to UNFOLD, peeling away like the skin off an orange, revealing its contents. A column shoots up from inside the dome, proudly displaying: THE HEART OF GOLD The most beautiful ship ever designed. Sleek, sharp and clean. A shining beacon of excellence. Pure white and shaped like a running shoe crossed with an arrowhead. Down on the beach, the journalists all crowd around, cameras hoisted into position, waiting for Zaphod’s speech. But for once, he’s speechless. He just stares at the ship with an almost uncontrollable lust - he’s been knocked bandy by this beauty. Trillian pushes alongside him, pressing down a button and giving Zaphod a hard elbow into his side. Zaphod coughs. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Er, wow. (beat) That’s awesome. The journalists are getting a touch restless, a bit antsy. Shuffling and moving around. They expected a bit more from than this. 38.

Zaphod has a moment of inspiration, characterised by his huge smile. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) That’s so awesomely awesome I think I’d like to steal it! That’s it! That’s what they were waiting for! Cameras flash, journalists quickly type, the moment captured for eternity. A classic Presidential soundbite. On the podium, Trillian opens her suitcase, producing the gun, which she quickly raises up into the air...and FIRES. A pulse SHOOTS out of the gun and down towards the beach, where it EXPLODES in mid-air... And everyone gathered down below FREEZES into immobility. Zaphod finally tears himself away from admiring the Heart of Gold to look at Trillian - suddenly all business. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Come on, baby. We’ve got a ship to steal!

INT. HEART OF GOLD BRIDGE - DAY The bridge reflects the exterior of the ship. Clean, spartan, pristine. High technology - computer-banks everywhere. A huge monitor set into one wall. The whole place smells of newness and expense. WHOOSH! The doors open, and Zaphod and Trillian walk in, wowed by what they see. Party music blasts out of the speakers, and streamers shoot out from every conceivable crevice. Balloons fly around the bridge. This is the work of the main computer - EDDIE. EDDIE (faux cheery voice) I hereby welcome you to the Heart of Gold. (beat) It’s a pleasure to serve you, Captain Shepherd, Commander Glenn. Zaphod whispers in Trillian’s ear. ZAPHOD Who? 39.

TRILLIAN (whispering back) The pilots who should have been flying this thing. She steps forward, addressing the computer console. TRILLIAN (CONT’D) We’re not them. EDDIE What? Zaphod steps alongside Trillian, not wanting to be in the background for too long. ZAPHOD Yeah, we’re not the pilots. We kinda stole this babe. EDDIE (petulant) Oh. Well then. The streamers retract back from whence they came, and the balloons begin to POP themselves. The music stops abruptly. EDDIE (CONT’D) Who are you then? Zaphod flashes that smile and winks again. ZAPHOD I’m Zaphod Beeblebrox, baby. EDDIE Really? (flustered) I’m gonna be on the news! The streamers shoot back out again, and the music resumes. Zaphod, meanwhile, is at the console, his eyes lighting up when he finds one particular switch. He FLICKS it, and the music stops again. The word MUTE flashes across the main monitor in red letters. Trillian approaches the sole black chair by the console, removing the plastic covering and throwing away a wad of bubble-wrap. TRILLIAN Can tell it’s new, but at least there’s something to do while we’re travelling. 40.

ZAPHOD I’m gonna like this ship, y’know. Trillian looks across at him - and he’s standing with a cocktail glass in his hand, filled to the brim with a hissing liquid. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters on tap. He takes a sip - and as soon as he swallows, his face flushes red, his hair stands on end, and steam puffs out of his ears. ZAPHOD (CONT’D) (hoarse) Quite mild, too. Trillian shakes her head and looks back at the console, her eyes drawn to one readout in particular. TRILLIAN You realise we’re out of fuel? ZAPHOD Who needs fuel when we have this? Looking up, Trillian finds Zaphod standing next to her, his mouths hanging open in awe, his hand hovering inches from a shining golden switch. The centrepiece of the whole console. TRILLIAN Are you sure that’s the best thing to do? ZAPHOD Hey, what’s the worst that could happen? Trillian raises an eyebrow as Zaphod PLUNGES his hand down onto the switch...

INT. VOGON SHIP ...And Arthur and Ford materialise into existence. Arthur’s down on his knees instantly, frantically trying to breathe and not vomit as his body seems to intend. Ford, on the other hand, is a ball of pure energy, bouncing around with excitement and glee. Arthur notices this with distaste. He looks around, but everything is in darkness. ARTHUR Where are we? 41.

FORD (now speaking in a Scottish accent) Safe. ARTHUR (relaxing a touch) Oh. Good. FORD We’re in the Dentrassi living quarters on board the lead Vogon ship, orbiting the blasted remains of your planet. Arthur just stares at him, totally lost for words. ARTHUR Ah. This must be some newfangled use for the word “safe” that I didn’t know about. FORD Could be worse. We could be dead. ARTHUR So you’re trying to tell me that the Earth’s... gone? FORD Yep. Totally obliterated. Nothing left. Arthur closes his eyes, a wave of nausea coming over him once more. ARTHUR At least I know now you’re not human. (beat) You haven’t any tact, have you? FORD (wrinkling his nose) Waste of time. You end up saying it anyway, so why try and sugar-coat it first? Arthur, still with his eyes closed, starts rocking gently back and forth on the floor, trying to keep his focus. ARTHUR Why has your accent changed? FORD Oh, this is my natural one. Like it a lot more. 42.

ARTHUR So you’re telling me that all Scotsmen are aliens? Ford scoffs. FORD No. Course not. Just most of ‘em. Arthur abruptly stops rocking, opening his eyes and staring right at Ford. ARTHUR Scotland’s gone now. (beat) Every country’s gone. It’s just... too much. Can’t get my head around it. He gets to his feet, grabbing hold of Ford and spinning him around. ARTHUR (CONT’D) Why can’t I get my head around it? FORD Because it’s too big. You can’t comprehend it. If you want to really feel it, think small. Arthur backs away for a moment, thinking. ARTHUR My house has gone. After all that. Then again, so have all that construction lot. And the council. He smiles despite himself. ARTHUR (CONT’D) She’s gone too. And her bloke. And my boss. And everyone down at the station. He catches Ford’s eye again, a tear starting to form. ARTHUR (CONT’D) I bumped into a girl in the lift yesterday. Pretty sort. We talked a bit. Was going to see if she fancied a drink tomorrow. Now I won’t get the chance. His tone becomes wistful, his voice starting to break a touch. 43.

ARTHUR (CONT’D) No more pub. Or pints. Not even Stella. No horrible pub lunches, no pork pies, nothing I’ve ever eaten in my whole life exists any more. FORD Not totally true. Pinched a few of these from the pub. Reaching into his jacket, he produces a couple of packs of crisps and tosses them over to Arthur, who gratefully catches them. ARTHUR They’re salt and vinegar. (beat, miserable) I don’t like salt and vinegar. FORD Doesn’t matter. Eat them anyway. We’re about to jump into hyperspace in a minute, you’ll need the salt. ARTHUR But I don’t like them. FORD Fine. He grabs them back, and rips into a pack, gobbling down a handful at super-speed. Arthur looks around, his eyes adjusting to the half-light. Some shapes can be seen in the distance. They look like multi- storey bunk beds. ARTHUR So, these Vogons then. What do you know about them? Ford, still mid-crunch, opens up his bag, finds a small handheld copy of the Guide, quickly types in a command, then throws it over to Arthur, who looks at in trepidation. THE GUIDE (V.O.) Vogons are one of the most hated races in the Galaxy; not evil in the usual sense, but bad-tempered, bureaucratic and callous, with an intense dislike of creativity of any kind. They have a long list of pet hates, but pride of place goes to hitchhikers. If you want to get a lift with a Vogon, take this advice: forget it. 44.

Arthur looks up from the Guide, and gapes at Ford in disbelief. ARTHUR Well, that’s... interesting. FORD And wrong. Doesn’t mention the Dentrassi. There’s a revised edition coming soon. Arthur looks back at the Guide again, a thought forming in his mind. ARTHUR Are there a lot of entries? FORD Billions. Anything you can think of. ARTHUR Like Earth, for example? FORD Er... He looks away, but Arthur grabs him and shoves the Guide into his hands. ARTHUR Please. I want to know how it’ll be remembered. Ford thinks for a second, then decides to take the plunge. FORD Well, you don’t need the book. I can tell you what it says. ARTHUR Why? What does it say? FORD Harmless. ARTHUR Harmless? That’s it? FORD Yeah, well... ARTHUR Unbelievable! He throws his hands up in disgust and begins to pace around the room. 45.

FORD ...that’s the thing. There’s a revised edition coming soon. That’s why I was on Earth in the first place. I’m a researcher - I was sent to expand the article a bit. Arthur stops pacing, looking at Ford in surprise. ARTHUR And did you? FORD Considerably. ARTHUR Why? What’s it say now? Ford looks away, spurting out quickly: FORD Mostly harmless. Arthur shakes his head in dismay. ARTHUR That’s it? I thought you said you expanded it! FORD I did! I doubled the word-count! ARTHUR From one word to two. Wow whee. FORD I think two’s pretty generous, considering it’s not even there any more! Arthur’s eyes widen, and he steps directly in front of Ford. ARTHUR How can you be so cold? FORD Because it wasn’t my planet. Why should I care? ARTHUR You lived there for seven years! FORD I was trapped there for seven years! 46.

Arthur’s about to launch into another riposte, but is interrupted by a RUMBLING, GURGLING sound coming over the ship’s speaker system. Arthur squints in confusion, then looks across at Ford, who appears to be listening. When the sound stops, Ford looks over at Arthur, wide-eyed. FORD (CONT’D) Well, what d’ya think of that, then? ARTHUR What am I supposed to think? FORD That was the Vogon captain addressing his crew. ARTHUR Well, I don’t speak Vogon. FORD You don’t have to. Lucky for you I have one of these left. He reaches into his jacket-pocket once more, this time producing a small yellow fish. Leaping across to Arthur, Ford grabs hold of his ear and shoves the fish down it, watching it wriggle in. Arthur clutches at his ear in pure horror, but when the gurgling sound comes over again, his eyes widen in surprise. The gurgling resolves itself into perfect English. JELTZ (O.S.) We’re about to jump into hyperspace. So get strapped in. (beat) And don’t forget we’ve got these hitchhikers on board. I want ‘em found and the airlock readied. (beat) Jeltz out. Ford leaps down onto the floor, grabbing his towel out of his bag and laying it down underneath him. He then curls up into a foetal position. Arthur remains where he is, still stunned. ARTHUR Ford? Why have I got a fish in my ear? 47.

FORD (muffled) It’s translating for ya. It’s a Babel Fish. Look it up. He nods at the Guide, which is still in Arthur’s hands. Arthur hesitantly types in the term, and then... Everything BLURS as the ship enters hyperspace. Arthur loses his balance, tripping over - sending the Guide flying through the air... FREEZE-FRAME An incongruous yellow fish appears in the centre of the frame. THE GUIDE (V.O.) The Babel Fish is one of the most fascinating species in the universe. By placing one of these in your ear, any language that has a level of complexity can be instantly translated. (beat) Unfortunately, because it has effectively lowered all barriers of communication between species, the humble Babel Fish has caused more and bloodier wars than anything else in recorded history. END FREEZE-FRAME The blurriness fades as the ship comes back out of hyperspace. Ford peeks out from under his towel, checks around, then flips himself back up to his feet. He quickly folds up his towel and places it in his bag, followed by the abandoned Guide. He then notices Arthur lying face-down next to him. FORD Arthur? Are you all right? He gives his companion a swift kick in the ribs. ARTHUR Ouch. Arthur’s eyes flick open and he sees Ford standing over him, hand outstretched. He grabs hold of the proffered hand and climbs up until he’s standing again. 48.

FORD How are you feeling? ARTHUR Oddly... hungry. FORD Told ya you should have had those crisps. (beat) Come on. He shoves his hands in his pockets, turns on his heel, and begins to wander through the cabin with Arthur following behind. FORD (CONT’D) Like I say, this is where the Dentrassi live. They hate the Vogons as much as we do. He gestures around him at what are definitely bunks - although they are quite high, and very heavy-duty. ARTHUR Why do they live here then? FORD Because they work here. (beat) They’re the best cooks in the universe. (beat) Use literally anything they can find. And it’s delicious. He comes to a stop by one of the bunks, looking up at it. FORD (CONT’D) Case in point. Removing his towel from his bag, Ford scurries up one of the legs of the bunk until he gets to the blankets. He dips his towel into a sticky yellow substance, has a quick sniff, then clambers back down to ground level, proffering the towel to Arthur. FORD (CONT’D) Go on. Have a lick. Arthur hesitantly reaches for the towel, then he tentatively extends his tongue and licks the liquid. He reacts with genuine surprise, nodding in appreciation. FORD (CONT’D) You like it? 49.

ARTHUR Not bad. Tastes like... caramel. (beat) What is it? FORD Dentrassi excrement. Arthur automatically clamps a hand to his mouth, his cheeks puffing out. Ford clocks this. FORD (CONT’D) Come on, don’t be like that. (beat) If I hadn’t told you what it was, you’d have been having more of it. (beat) It’s that Rose By Any Other Name Syndrome. He begins to wander through the cabin again, with Arthur following behind, valiantly trying not to be sick. FORD (CONT’D) You’re living in a different universe to the one you were used to now, Arthur. (beat) And it’s wild. More terrifying and amazing than you can possibly imagine. But you can’t survive it by sticking to what you used to know. (beat) You have to have a new mind-set. ARTHUR One like yours, I suppose? FORD Well, I don’t like to bra---oh. They’ve come to a heavy-set metal door at one end of the cabin, which opens to REVEAL a huge, hulking, twelve-foot- tall slobbering nightmare beast, with three mouths, eight eyes, and a meat cleaver (not attached to the body). ARTHUR Is... is that a Vogon? FORD Nope. It’s a Dentrassi. ARTHUR I thought you said they were on our side? 50.

FORD I also said they used anything they can find... The Dentrassi flings the meat cleaver at them... FORD (CONT’D) DUCK! ...which they do, just as the cleaver flies over their heads and embeds itself into one of the metal bed-supports. Ford and Arthur scramble quickly to their feet and charge off into the darkened cabin. The Dentrassi bounds after them, but the human and the Betelgeusean are far too nimble for it, ducking, weaving and turning to avoid its grasping claws. Arthur looks terrified out of his mind, whilst Ford seems to be enjoying it - as he lets out whooping noises like a demented child every time he dodges the Dentrassi. Together, Ford and Arthur do a U-turn and sprint towards the door, the Dentrassi in pursuit. They’re almost there when the Dentrassi breaks off, pulling the cleaver out from the bed-leg it was embedded in. It THROWS the cleaver at the door, just as Arthur and Ford leap through...

INT. VOGON CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS CLANG! From O.S. as the cleaver reverberates against the closed door. SWING AROUND to find Arthur and Ford sitting opposite, their backs to the wall, their relief evident. Ford has a huge smile on his face despite himself. Arthur just looks knackered. Ford looks over to face him. FORD Oh, I’ve missed this! (noticing Arthur’s expression) Come on! Tell me you didn’t enjoy it. At least a little bit. Not even a little bit? ARTHUR I only wanted a quiet life. Is that too much to ask? 51.

FORD Yeah. He climbs back to his feet, gesturing for Arthur to do the same. FORD (CONT’D) Come on. That door won’t hold it for long. Together, they run down the corridor and around the corner... before they both skid to a halt. They’re facing a Vogon guard in full battle armour, complete with helmet. Without warning, it raises its rifle and fires two shots...... at the Dentrassi behind Arthur and Ford, killing it. The Vogon grabs hold of the hitchhikers and roughly pushes them down the corridor.

INT. VOGON BRIDGE - DAY Jeltz sits in his command chair, hand to his chin, studying Ford and Arthur, who are standing to attention in front of him. They’re standing like this partly out of respect to Jeltz, and partly because there’s several guards behind them pointing their rifles directly at the hitchhikers’ backs. JELTZ I hate hitchhikers. You know why? FORD Because we’re raging alcoholics who know how to have a good time? JELTZ No. (beat) You know that we had to fly to a specific ejection zone just to get rid of you? Stupid treaty. (beat) Which cost me time. And time is money. (beat) My insurance policy’s buggered for at least a month now. ARTHUR (sarcastically) Oh, shame. Ford looks at Arthur in confusion. 52.

JELTZ Yes. And because I’m feeling particularly irritable today, I’ll give you two options. (beat) Either we push you out of the airlock... or you can listen to some poetry I wrote this morning. Arthur shrugs, surprised at the choice. ARTHUR FORD Poetry. Airlock! Jeltz is intrigued - looking between the pair of them with a smirk - or the closest a Vogon can approximate one. JELTZ (CONT’D) Interesting. Which one of you wanted to listen to my poetry? Ford, beginning to panic, points quite deliberately at Arthur. FORD Him. Definitely him. Totally, completely, only, him. JELTZ You sure? FORD Absolutely positively certainly. ARTHUR What’s wrong with the po--- FORD (raising a silencing finger) A ba! Jeltz nods slowly, looking closely at Ford. JELTZ Then I’ll read my poetry to him... and to you as well. FORD What?! JELTZ It’d be a shame to waste the opportunity. ON Ford’s panic-ridden expression, we: TIME-CUT TO: 53.

INT. VOGON BRIDGE - LATER Where Arthur and Ford are lying strapped to their poetry appreciation chairs. These chairs look like the dentist’s chairs from hell - high-backed and terrifying. Arm and leg restraints keep the listener firmly in place. Needles positioned above the shoulder regularly inject the listener with hallucinogenic enhancers. Helmets placed over their heads act as imagery stimulators, providing neural enjoyment for the brain. Jeltz, sitting in front of the frightened pair in his command chair, shuffles a little before holding up his pad. JELTZ Are you sitting comfortably? (beat, before they can answer) Good. Let’s begin. He takes a deep breath, then... JELTZ (CONT’D) O, freddled gruntbuggly... Ford and Arthur SCREAM in horror as the full impact of the words seeps in. JELTZ (CONT’D) Thy micturations are to me/As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee. Arthur begins to convulse. A tear creeps down Ford’s cheek. JELTZ (CONT’D) Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes/And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles... It’s too much for Ford, who YELLS out in pure terror. Arthur’s breathing at a far faster rate than normal, much faster than is healthy. JELTZ (CONT’D) Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't! That triumphant final outburst from Jeltz causes one final scream of AGONY from Arthur, and Ford to shiver in fright. There’s a pause for contemplation, then: JELTZ (CONT’D) Well? 54.

Arthur and Ford look at each other, desperately trying to recover their senses. JELTZ (CONT’D) Be honest. FORD Honestly? Mind-bogglingly crap. Take me to the airlock sharpish. ARTHUR Don’t be too hasty, Ford. Ford looks at his friend in shock. What is he thinking of? ARTHUR (CONT’D) I think a bit of constructive criticism might go a long way here. JELTZ Ooh... now that’s interesting. Ford can’t believe what he’s hearing. He looks at Arthur, into Arthur, through Arthur, pleading with him. But Arthur’s got the ball and he’s running with it. ARTHUR I mean it’s not perfect, of course. The structure’s all over the place, and the rhyming couplets only work every so often. (beat) Maybe introduce a bit more rhythm to proceedings as well, like, er, iambic pentameter, maybe? Jeltz considers this, whilst Ford’s eyes narrow - he’s starting to cotton on to what Arthur’s trying to do. ARTHUR (CONT’D) But there’s plenty that’s good about this, though. Like er... erm... He runs out of steam at the wrong moment. Beads of sweat appear on his forehead and trickle onto his brow. FORD ...Like the raw emotion of the piece. There’s a lot of power in there. Plenty of lasting imagery. Arthur smiles at his friend for saving his bacon, then picks up the thread again himself. 55.

ARTHUR Definitely. And you’ve poured your heart and soul into it. There’s a lot of humanity... FORD Vogonity. ARTHUR Yes, Vogonity in the poem. A lot of you in there. And that’s excellent. It’s just the nuts and bolts that need working on, because otherwise the poem fulfills its intention to give us an insight into... into... FORD (the big crescendo) ...into whatever it was the poem was about! JELTZ Hmmm... He settles back into his chair, as Ford and Arthur look at each other in breathless camaraderie. Arthur wriggles his head free a little to hiss at Ford. ARTHUR Finally listening to Radio 4 pays off! Ford grins at that, but then Jeltz leans forward again. JELTZ Some interesting thoughts there. I’m not going to take any of them on board, of course. But it’s always good to get other opinions. Even if they’re wrong. He looks at the GUARD standing behind the two men - a gigantic muscle-bound beast of a Vogon. JELTZ (CONT’D) Airlock! The guard nods and begins unstrapping Ford from his chair. Jeltz puts down his pad, muttering to himself. JELTZ (CONT’D) Vogonity. Raw emotion. Tsk. Death’s too good for them. 56.

INT. VOGON CORRIDOR - LATER The guard is frog-marching Ford and Arthur down the corridor at a brisk pace. He has one of them under each arm, their heads just visible underneath his huge biceps. Ford twists his head up to look at the guard. FORD Do you get job satisfaction from this? GUARD What d’ya mean? FORD Well, shoving people out of airlocks all the time. Doesn’t it get a bit, y’know, repetitive? The guard thinks for a while. He’s not used to it. GUARD Hmmm... I dunno. I’m a bit worried about my wrists. I think I might get a bit of RSI in ‘em. (beat) Y’know, from the constant shoving motions. FORD I know what you mean. You can’t be too careful with wrists. Arthur looks at Ford with narrowed eyes - what is he planning? Ford smirks in response. FORD (CONT’D) You know, you’re a bright young lad. Considering. Isn’t there something else you can be doing? Something better suited to your... talents? GUARD I dunno. I was thinking about maybe branching out into poetry a bit? Ford bites his lip hard. FORD Isn’t there anything original you could do? Something no Vogon’s ever done before? 57.

GUARD I dunno about that. There’s not much calling for original thinking with us Vogons. FORD (under his breath) Tell me about it. The Vogon comes to a stop outside a round door set into the wall. GUARD You know, I think I’d better stay where I am. I mean, there’s a recession on, I’ve been told. There’s a lot of Vogons out of work. At least I’ve got job security. (beat) I’ve had plenty of experience at shoving and shouting. (beat) And I think I’m pretty good at it. The door swivels open, and the guard shoves Ford and Arthur through into...

INT. AIRLOCK ANTE-CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS A tiny ante-chamber containing one wall which is an external door. The door to the rest of the ship SLAMS shut as soon as Arthur and Ford are in. GUARD (O.S.) See? Arthur’s on his feet immediately, shoulder-charging the door - but to no avail. Ford’s sitting on the floor, cross-legged, a look of utter defeat on his face. ARTHUR Is there anything we can do? FORD Nope. The airlock’s going to open in a minute or two, and then... He trails off, as Arthur settles down next to him, staring at the external door. ARTHUR So that’s it. We’re going to die. 58.

FREEZE-FRAME on Ford as he grits his teeth in annoyance. THE GUIDE (V.O.) During the time he spent amongst humans, Ford developed several pet peeves about them. By far the worst was their constant need to state the obvious, with phrases such as “it’s raining out”, “morning”, and “so that’s it. We’re going to die.” (beat) At first, he believed this was because if humans didn’t exercise their lips, their brains started working. He then dismissed this as overly cynical... before realising he was probably right all along. END FREEZE-FRAME Ford looks around the ante-chamber, desperately seeking out anything that might be an escape, anything at all... FORD Wait a minute, what’s this? He leaps across the chamber to a side-wall, which has a tiny switch set into it. Arthur gets to his feet in expectation as Ford analyses the switch. FORD (CONT’D) Nope, it’s just an air-conditioning switch. (beat) We’re going to die after all. He collapses back down onto the floor, beginning to hum the first few bars of a stirring Betelgeuse battle hymn to pass the time. Arthur sits next to him, his mind racing. ARTHUR You know, at a time like this, when the human race is going to be exterminated for good, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d listened to what my father used to say. FORD Why, what was that? ARTHUR I don’t know. I didn’t listen. 59.

Ford rolls his eyes, as Arthur begins tapping his legs in anticipation, controlling his breathing. ARTHUR (CONT’D) Today must be a Thursday. (beat) I never did get the hang of Thursdays. The airlock door begins to slide open slowly, slowly... Ford looks across at his friend with a smile that’s tinged with sadness. FORD Nice knowing you, Arthur. The airlock door opens fully, allowing the full power of the vacuum of space to unleash itself. Arthur and Ford are SUCKED out of the airlock and into space, to their certain death... BLACK OUT.

the HITCHHIKER’SHITCHHIKER’S GUIDEGUIDE to the GALAXYGALAXY

TOTO BEBE CONTINUED…CONTINUED…

TENTH CIRCLE OF HELL