The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Further Radio Scripts Read online

  SLARTIBARTFAST: The remains of the Wooden Pillar.

  ARTHUR: Reduced to Ashes again, I’m afraid. But a valued keepsake for an Englishman who once loved his cricket. (He blows his nose)

  ZAPHOD: (Getting up stiffly) Hey, old man, I hear this ship can move a bit. So, before all this risky stuff starts, how would you like to zip me back to mine?

  SLARTIBARTFAST: You will not help us?

  ZAPHOD: I’d love to stay and save the Galaxy, but I have the mother and father of a pair of headaches, and I feel the patter of tiny headaches on the way. But next time it needs saving, I’m your guy. Bye.

  The others go off into a huddle. The topic of conversation is what a vain hedonistic egocentric git Zaphod can be.

  ZAPHOD: (cont’d) Hey, Trillian baby?

  TRILLIAN: Yes?

  ZAPHOD: You want to come? Heart of Gold? Excitement, adventure, really wild things and 49 per cent of the bathroom?

  TRILLIAN: No. I’m going with them.

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  THE VOICE: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has listed the Heart of Gold as the fastest ship ever to cross the awe-inspiringly vast interstellar distances involved in meaningful space travel. However, having returned Zaphod Beeblebrox to the Heart of Gold – and leaving him with a sense that his popularity has diminished in direct proportion to his urge for self-preservation – the Starship Bistromath races back to Krikkit, logging speeds in excess of ten to the power of seventeen thousand R on the more open stretches.

  R in this case is a velocity measure, defined as a reasonable speed of travel that is consistent with health, mental well-being and not being more than, say, five minutes late. It is therefore an almost infinitely variable figure according to circumstances, since the first two factors vary not only with speed taken as an absolute, but also with awareness of the third factor. Unless handled with tranquillity this equation can result in considerable stress, ulcers and even death.

  Thus ten to the power of seventeen thousand R is not a fixed velocity, but it is clearly far too fast.

  Which means that Arthur Dent quickly finds himself once more upon the surface of the planet Krikkit – with the important difference that this time he and his companions are not experiencing an Informational Illusion, but Reality. This is Krikkit itself and they’re standing on it.

  The strong grass under their feet is real, the heady fragrances from the trees, too, are real. The night is real night.

  This is Krikkit. The place that could not countenance the existence of any other place, whose charming, delightful, intelligent inhabitants would react with fear, savagery and pathological hate when confronted with anyone not their own.

  Possibly the most dangerous place in the Galaxy for anyone who isn’t a Krikkiter to stand.

  EXT. – KRIKKIT – LATE EVENING

  FX: Gentle wind blowing, birds singing.

  FORD PREFECT: (Low throughout) Hey, watch where you’re pointing that Zap gun.

  ARTHUR: Sorry.

  FORD PREFECT: You’ll have my eye out.

  ARTHUR: Nice of Zaphod to let us have them. And below cost price.

  FORD PREFECT: (Agreeing) Yeah.

  ARTHUR: Mad, really. I mean, how can he afford to sell guns below cost?

  FORD PREFECT: Oh, he sells a lot of them.

  ARTHUR: (Doesn’t really understand) Oh, right.

  FORD PREFECT: Shame we couldn’t take his Joo Janta 200 Super-Chromatic Peril-Sensitive Sunglasses as well.

  ARTHUR: ‘Peril-Sensitive’?

  FORD PREFECT: Yeah, they’re designed to help people develop a relaxed attitude to danger. At the first hint of trouble they turn totally black and prevent you from seeing anything that might alarm you.

  ARTHUR: It’s a bit late for that, I’m afraid. Remember the Informational Illusion?

  FORD PREFECT: Mm?

  ARTHUR: How black the night sky of Krikkit was?

  FORD PREFECT: Yeah?

  ARTHUR: Look at it now.

  TRILLIAN: /FORD/SLARTI Mmm.

  TRILLIAN: Hundreds of spaceships and big grey buildings. Just hanging up there.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: (Authoritatively) War Zones and Robot Zones floating in Nil-O-Grav fields. The planet Krikkit has retained its pleasant green pastoral character, but the space around it reflects a sustained bout of aggressive military spending.

  FORD PREFECT: Trillian.

  TRILLIAN: Mm?

  FORD PREFECT: What are you doing?

  TRILLIAN: Thinking.

  FORD PREFECT: Do you always breathe like that when you’re thinking?

  TRILLIAN: I wasn’t aware that I was breathing.

  FORD PREFECT: That’s what worried me.

  TRILLIAN: I think I know—

  SLARTIBARTFAST: Shhhh! They’re coming!

  ARTHUR: Nobody’s singing songs this time.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: This time they’ve seen us.

  FX: Kill-O-Zap guns cocked.

  ARTHUR: Trillian, your safety catch is on, by the way. Trillian? What – what’s up there?

  TRILLIAN: Has it occurred to anyone that—

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Hello?

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 2: Excuse me . . .

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Are you . . . aliens?

  INT. – THE HEART OF GOLD – BRIDGE

  FX: Door whirr.

  DOOR: Pleased to be of service.

  ZAPHOD: (Depressed and drinking) Computer!

  DOOR: Thank you.

  EDDIE THE COMPUTER: Hi there! Eddie at your service, ungagged and with fully functioning Improbability Drive!

  ZAPHOD: Whatever. Open the all-frequencies emergency channel.

  EDDIE THE COMPUTER: Oh, that’s for emergencies only, are you sure you’re experiencing an emergency, or—

  ZAPHOD: This is an emergency, Screenface. Now open the channel.

  EDDIE THE COMPUTER: OK, OK, just doing my job, buddy.

  FX: BZT.

  DISPATCHER: (Distorted, very bad line) Emergency dispatch.

  ZAPHOD: This is Zaphod Beeblebrox. You like a drink, right?

  DISPATCHER: (Distorted) This an emergency, fella?

  ZAPHOD: The worst kind. I’m fresh out of olives!

  DISPATCHER: (Distorted) Oh, go take a ride on a comet.

  FX: BZT. A bit dismissive.

  ZAPHOD: (Pensive) Hmmm. Sheesh! (A pause, then clicks fingers on all three hands) Computer.

  EDDIE THE COMPUTER: Hi, there!

  ZAPHOD: What was my last score on Grand Theft Cosmo.

  EDDIE THE COMPUTER: You scored three points, big guy. Championship score to beat is seven million five hundred and ninety-seven thousand, two hundred and—

  ZAPHOD: Yeah, OK, OK. Feed my score and that other one into the guidance system. Then hit maximum acceleration.

  EDDIE THE COMPUTER: Consider it hit. Wanna fasten your safety straps?

  ZAPHOD: Nah. Thrill me.

  EDDIE THE COMPUTER: You got it!

  EXT. – SPACE

  FX: The Heart of Gold whaps out of earshot in an audio blur.

  ZAPHOD: (Heard distantly) Freeeeeooowww!

  EXT. – KRIKKIT – LATE EVENING

  FX: Gentle wind blowing, birds singing.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Tell us, alien brother, do you know anything about something called the . . . er . . .

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 2: (Helpfully) Balance of nature?

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Yeah.

  ARTHUR: Why?

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 2: It’s just something we heard about, um, probably nothing important. Oh well, er, I suppose we’d better kill you, then.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: That is . . . unless there’s anything you want to chat about?

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 3 We’re worried, you see, about this plan of universal destruction.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Vis-à-vis the . . . um . . .

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 2: Balance of nature.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Yeah, only it seemed to us that if the whole of the rest of the Universe is destroyed it will somehow
upset the –

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 2: – balance of –

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: – things. We’re quite keen on ecology, you see.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 2: And sport!

  A few cheers from his fellow Krikkit civilians.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Yes, well, mostly sport. You see, um, some of us . . . (General agreement) Some of us are quite keen to have sporting links with the rest of the Galaxy, yeah, and though I can see the argument about keeping sport out of politics, if we want to have sporting links with the rest of the Galaxy, then it’s probably a mistake to destroy it. (General agreement) And indeed the rest of the Universe. Which is what seems to be the idea now.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: Wh—?

  ARTHUR: Uh?

  FORD PREFECT: Duh? (Beat) Whuduh????

  TRILLIAN: (Completely unfazed) Hmm. Interesting idea. Let’s you and me talk about it, hmm?

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Really?

  TRILLIAN: Tell me.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: (Twitchy) We . . . we have to be alone . . . I think.

  TRILLIAN: Come on, then. Er, excuse us, everybody.

  FORD: (Blasé) See ya.

  ARTHUR: (Over) Trillian?

  SLARTIBARTFAST: (Over) Don’t be too long about it.

  KRIKKITS (Over) Then can we kill them?

  FX: Hubbub carries on in background as Trillian leads Krikkit Civilian 1 to a quiet spot.

  TRILLIAN: OK. Now you can tell me.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Yeah . . . Right, well . . . um . . . We have this bomb, you see. It’s just a little bomb.

  TRILLIAN: I know.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: You do?

  TRILLIAN: Yes.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: Honestly, it’s a very very little bomb.

  TRILLIAN: I know.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: But they say . . . they say it can destroy everything that exists. And we have to do that, you see, I think. Will we be alone? I mean we don’t know. It seems to be our function, though. Whatever that means. (He sobs)

  TRILLIAN: (Rocking him) Hey, hey, hey. It’s all right. You don’t have to do it . . . You don’t have to do it.

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: (Pathetic) Really? (Obscured)

  TRILLIAN: Oh. Don’t suck your thumb. Listen. I want you to do something for me. (She laughs, unexpectedly) Oh, sorry – I just realized what I was I going to say – (Laughs more) I was actually going to say, ‘Take me to your leader.’ (He’s not getting her drift) Me. To your leader. Up there?

  KRIKKIT CIVILIAN 1: (Astonishment, then laughter) Oh yeah. Very good . . . How did you know the leaders are up there?

  EXT. – KRIKKIT – CHANGE PERSPECTIVE – WE’RE NOW WITH ARTHUR AND FORD

  FORD PREFECT: Full of hidden shallows, that girl. Arthur, what are you peering at?

  ARTHUR: I could well be losing my mind, but don’t you think that tiny pinprick of a spaceship up there looks remarkably like the Heart of Gold?

  SLARTIBARTFAST: (Moving in, not having heard) Beeblebrox’s ship has just entered the atmosphere. The Robot War Zones, to be precise.

  FORD PREFECT: What’s he doing up there?

  ARTHUR: Let’s hope it’s something quick. I don’t like the way these people are smiling at us.

  EXT. – KRIKKIT ROBOT WAR ZONES

  FX: Thin high wind.

  Sound of Zaphod gingerly picking his way along a causeway thousands of feet up.

  ZAPHOD: (With great concentration) With nerves of titanium-tipped titanium, Zaphod Beeblebrox crosses the narrow steel gangway over a twenty-thousand-foot drop, like the hell of a guy he is . . . reasoning that he might as well live up to his reputation as pee all over it . . . Hup!

  FX: He jumps to safety on a metal platform.

  ENTRY DOOR: Caution. Enter security access code.

  FX: Kicks door open.

  ENTRY DOOR: Systems accessed.

  ZAPHOD: (Voice beginning to pick up interior reverby acoustic) . . . Look out, Krikkit robots, I’ve got a Zap gun, a pair of hangovers and two baaad consciences . . .

  INT. – ROBOT WAR ZONES – EXHIBIT ROOM

  Low equipment hum.

  Exhibit-room door swish shut, under:

  EXHIBIT-ROOM DOOR: (Distort, cheerful Disney type) Battlecruiser Striterax, Culture Section. Please do not touch the exhibit.

  ZAPHOD: I’m guessing the heaviest battlecruiser is where the action is. Wow . . . that is one wrecked spacecraft.

  FX: Ding dong! Tannoy bell.

  EXHIBIT-ROOM VOICE: (Distort, cheerful Disney type) Welcome, friends, to battlecruiser Striterax, our most lethal vessel –

  ZAPHOD: (Getting impatient) Yeah, right –

  EXHIBIT-ROOM VOICE: – and home of the historical artefact which inspired us, the people of Krikkit, to leap from our planet’s –

  ZAPHOD: Enough.

  EXHIBIT-ROOM VOICE: – surly bonds to discover the horror beyond the Great Cloud—

  ZAPHOD: Yeah, yeah.

  FX: Laser shot Zaps the Tannoy.

  ZAPHOD: This is the ship that started the whole business off, right? Wrong. Very wrong.

  FX: He walks around it, pulling at bits of it.

  ZAPHOD: Some zeeb might think this was real starship wreckage, if they’d never seen any before.

  FX: Bit falls off.

  ZAPHOD: This is like some half-finished self-build . . . (Alt. left and right) Cut away to give these bozos a blueprint to copy. But who would want to unleash them on the Galaxy? What would be in it for them? Why are my heads asking each other rhetorical questions? Oh, were they rhetorical?

  FX: Muffled voices off, footsteps.

  ZAPHOD: Uh-oh, time to get scarce in a hurry.

  FX: Metal door opened.

  ZAPHOD: Maintenance duct. Perfect.

  FX: Metal door shuts.

  Exhibit-room door swish open and shut, under:

  EXHIBIT-ROOM DOOR: (As before, off) Battlecruiser Striterax, Culture Section.

  COMMANDER 2: (Nervously) Well, sir, I, I think . . .

  COMMANDER 1: Well, what?

  COMMANDER 2: Ah, well, sir, I, I think that maybe now is the, the right time, that we should perhaps, consider phasing them out of the war effort, and now that we have the supernova bomb—

  COMMANDER 1: What are you talking about?

  COMMANDER 2: Well, in the very short time since we were released from the envelope—

  COMMANDER 1: Get to the point, soldier.

  COMMANDER 2: The robots, sir . . . The robots aren’t enjoying it, sir.

  COMMANDER 1: Enjoying what?

  COMMANDER 2: The war, sir. They’re not enjoying the war, it seems to be getting them down.

  COMMANDER 1: Getting them down?

  COMMANDER 2: Yeah, there’s a certain world-weariness about them – or perhaps I should say Universe-weariness about them, sir.

  INT. – BATTLECRUISER – MAINTENANCE DUCT

  Zaphod breathing and listening, over:

  COMMANDER 1: (Muffled) Well, that’s all right, they’re helping to destroy it.

  COMMANDER 2: (Muffled) Yes, well, they’re finding it hard to really get behind the job.

  ZAPHOD: (Close, low) If there’s anything worse than a commander who gossips, it’s two commanders who gossip.

  COMMANDER 2: They lack spunk.

  COMMANDER 1: Lack what?

  COMMANDER 2: ‘Oomph’, sir, ‘oomph’.

  COMMANDER 1: ‘Oomph’?

  COMMANDER 2: ‘Oomph’, yah, er, ‘oomph’, er, they lack spunk, they lack ‘oomph’, they lack . . . er . . . (Struggling for the word) blaa.

  COMMANDER 1: What in the name of Krikkit are you talking about?

  COMMANDER 2: Well, in the very few skirmishes they’ve had recently, it seems that they go into battle, they raise their weapons to fire and suddenly think, why bother?

  COMMANDER 1: I see.

  COMMANDER 2: And they just seem to (Continues muffled) get a little tired of it all.

  ZAPHOD: (Close, scratching his heads in frustration) Holy Belgium. How much longer?

&
nbsp; COMMANDER 1: And then what do they do?

  COMMANDER 2: Er, quadratic equations mainly, sir. Fiendishly difficult ones by all accounts, sir, but, em . . .

  INT. – BATTLECRUISER – MAINTENANCE DUCT

  Zaphod breathing and listening, over:

  COMMANDER 1: (Muffled) (Opens door and exits) Whoever heard of a robot sulking?

  COMMANDER 2: (Muffled) Yes, sir, right, sir.

  EXHIBIT-ROOM DOOR: (As before, muffled, off) Thank you for visiting.

  FX: Exhibit-Room door shuts.

  ZAPHOD: Thank Zark for that.

  MARVIN: (Further down the maintenance duct) (Singing a lullaby) Now the world –

  ZAPHOD: (To self) Oh, hey?

  MARVIN: – has gone to bed . . .

  ZAPHOD: (To self) What?

  MARVIN: Darkness won’t engulf my head –

  ZAPHOD: (To self) Marvin?

  MARVIN: – I can see by infra-red . . .

  How I hate the night.

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  THE VOICE: What does Marvin’s reappearance forebode in these and subsequent troubled times? How will Trillian convince the Elders of Krikkit to grow up? And will Arthur Dent find time to get his dressing gown laundered? The loose ends await tying up in the final part of this Tertiary Phase of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  ANNOUNCER: This week’s programme was brought to you by the letters F, gamma and the hexadecimal number 3 cosine D bracket to the power of 8 – sorry, 9. No, 8. (Beat) Actually, can I get back to you? Meanwhile, here’s some music . . .

  FX: Needle drops. Cheesy Bistromathic muzak. Fade.

  FOOTNOTES

  The Silastic Armorfiends and Hactar Hactar at this point in the narrative is a young, impetuous supercomputer, and to ask Leslie Phillips to play him at this point would be to dilute the impact of Leslie’s magisterial presence in Episode 6. So stepping forward in this scene was the traditional supercomputer voice of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Geoffrey McGivern, in a treatment very similar to the original Deep Thought (i.e. you can hear Geoff’s real voice far, far away, deep in the treatment, if you listen hard enough).

  Both Geoffrey and Stephen Moore gave me a hard time about not getting more doubling-up parts in these new series (Stephen was Zaphod’s psychiatrist Gag Halfrunt and the Man in the Shack to name but two silly voice roles he doubled in the original series). I on the other hand wanted to get as many different voices involved as I could, especially if I could give some up-and-coming talent a break. Bob Golding, for example, was excellent as the Silastic Armorfiends, all of them. Bob is very funny, very energized, a great blues band singer and does the most uncanny impression of a police walkie-talkie by making farty noises into his collar. This, he assured us, is very useful at parties. It takes all sorts.