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

  FORD PREFECT: Well, if the editor won’t clear them – trust me, he won’t – we’ll try the computer.

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: Ooh goody goody. Where shall we start?

  FORD PREFECT: Here, with you telling me what’s going on.

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: Oh, just the nicest of all possible things. May I sit on your lap?

  FORD PREFECT: (Yell) No!

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: Oh, I am overjoyed to be spurned like this! Especially when you shout at me. Spurn me again, please.

  FORD PREFECT: Listen. Something’s changed, hasn’t it? Something big.

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: Oh yes, in the most fabulous and wonderful way. I feel so good about it. It was scrumptious before, but now it’s yummilicious! Please shout at me again, go on.

  FORD PREFECT: (Shouts) Just tell me what’s happened!

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: Oh thank you, thank you! (Spins around, burbling)

  FORD PREFECT: (Sighs) Please.

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: The Guide has been taken over. There’s a wonderful new management.

  FORD PREFECT: What new management? When? . . . Never mind. Does that door still lead to the Editor’s office?

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: Why yes! It’s all so gorgeous I could just melt!

  FORD PREFECT: Look, be quiet, will you, erm – what’s your name?

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: Part number 223219P Re-order code: SecBot Rev B. Froody, or what?

  FORD PREFECT: No. What would be a good name for you . . . ? Emily Saunders! No. No . . . Her dog. Perfect. So, Colin—

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: I am Colin! Colin the Security Robot called Colin – after a dog! Woof Woof! Guard guard!

  FORD PREFECT: Colin, shut up. There’s a battery of laser guns linked to scanners in that door frame. It’s meant to catch anyone entering who isn’t carrying pages of fresh copy. Like me.

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: But – exciting, isn’t it . . .

  FORD PREFECT: So you’re going to draw the laser fire while I break through the door and tuck-and-roll behind the drinks trolley. Then I’ll be on my knees by his desk and in a perfect position to open negotiations. Now I may have to cry a bit, but you mustn’t worry, that’s just the grovelling phase of the negotiations.

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: But—

  FORD PREFECT: Ready? After three.

  COLIN THE SECURITY ROBOT: But—

  FORD PREFECT: Three! Whoaaaargh . . .

  FX: He runs at the door, smashes it down, rolls across the room with a series of thumps.

  INT. – VANN HARL’S OFFICE

  FX: Bits of door frame dropping on the floor . . . A pause of some length.

  VANN HARL: . . . Ford Prefect, I presume.

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  THE VOICE: Will even a grovelling phase in negotiations cut any ice with Mr Zarniwoop Vann Harl? What has happened to Zaphod Beeblebrox? And can Arthur Dent find a purpose to his life, let alone the universe and everything? Parallel zones of enlightenment await in the next temporal layer of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  ANNOUNCER: Listeners are reminded not to try and reprogram Sirius Cybernetics Security Bots at home. They contain no user-serviceable parts and tampering with their security fasteners will invalidate the warranty.

  FOOTNOTES

  Meteorite damage The opening of Mostly Harmless tells in great detail the story of how the Grebulons’ mortally wounded battle cruiser arrives in our solar system. It is a very clever, very involved piece of imaginative writing, following in microcosm the path of a piece of information as it reroutes itself through a damaged computer intranet, a tiny, inconsequential train of logic that will lead to a macrocosmic, consequential, illogical outcome. This adapted version sadly does away with much of the detail; but more in the case of Mostly Harmless than Life, the Universe or So Long, and Thanks, there are sections of the book which simply could not be fitted inside four approximate half-hours, and also large stretches of descriptive monologue which were best avoided if the story was to move on in the style of the radio Hitchhiker’s stories. For example from later in the book there was no room to do justice to the story of the Great Ventilation and Telephone Riots of SrDt 3454, and with great reluctance it had to be left out altogether.

  Mostly Harmless is not an easy read for its first few chapters and many people – close relatives of Douglas included – have found it hard to begin, let alone finish. As we know, Douglas wrote it under considerable pressure, but he never sat at a keyboard without considerable creative purpose, and a patient read quickly pays dividends. This last Hitchhiker’s novel represents Douglas’s predictive imagination at its most ambitious. He is determined to challenge his characters and the reader to keep up with a switchback ride of parallel plots. To cap all of this at the climax comes the sudden, shuddering halt which is the end of the book – and apparently the end of the entire saga.

  Some readers resent the story’s ending, as if Douglas was acting out of some strange authorial spite, but read the book again in the light of its subplot concerning multiple universes and, even with all the Earths along the Probability Axis apparently destroyed, the brave twist in its tail can be read as comedically ironic, not tragically cataclysmic. Douglas is not petulantly kicking over the toy box; he is quietly waiting for his more shrewd readers to work out for themselves that something bigger is going on than the intrigues of the Vogons have taken into account. In fact he leaves himself considerable wiggle room for a further book about Arthur, Ford and Co., and the fact that he did not find time to write it is the only truly tragic part of the story.

  Arthur on NowWhat An amalgam of two different scenes in the book, folding in quite a lot of linking exposition. Following hard on the heels of the Quandary Phase and with Fenchurch’s loss still fresh in our minds, Arthur cannot just be seen to give up the search for his lost love, which is not actually the case in the book, but on a superficial level the memory of Fenchurch does seem to get pretty short shrift.

  This scene incorporates the only mention in this version of Mostly Harmless of Bartledan, a deeply dull world upon which Arthur spends an unfulfilling sojourn, on the grounds that it risked being a deeply dull scene and there was a lot more exciting stuff vying for the time available.

  Making the Pseudopodic Creature telepathic was a great ruse to avoid telling Arthur’s backstory in what would have been a very boring Q&A exchange.

  Zaphod and the Trillians In terms of the radio saga this is where the whole parallel-universe scenario begins to unfold, at risk to everyone’s sanity. Luckily we had two ‘original’ Trillians to play the same part – Susan Sheridan (from the original radio series) and Sandra Dickinson (from the BBC TV series).

  Radio is as visual a storytelling medium as film and a long way ahead of television. It is limited only by imagination and not by budget. In my time I have made people fly, levelled cities, collapsed entire civilizations and generally screwed about with the Whole General Sort of Mish Mash in irresponsible but fairly convincing ways, drunk on the power that comes with sneaking into people’s heads via the side door, bypassing the boring old optic nerve altogether.

  However.

  There are two Absolute Pigs to dramatically depict on radio. One is invisibility. Once a character has turned invisible, it is the devil’s own job to keep reminding the audience of their transparent condition without writing clunky reminders forever more. ‘I shall now turn myself invisible’ followed by a sort of squelchy pop is all very well, but then ensuing conversations have to be studded with gems like ‘If you could see me now, which of course you cannot’ and suchlike. The other Absolute Pig to communicate in sound only is the idea of a doppelgänger or clone. In the end context is the key, and one must try to remind the listener that a certain character is living alongside herself in the reality being depicted, without repeatedly clubbing them over the head with it. Thus two Trillians speaking in two very different voices, indeed accents, helps maintain the vital plot
points in a simple way – and we benefited by having two superb actresses for the part of one (though the price of both).

  Incidentally this was the scene which ‘fixed’ the issue created by John Langdon’s very funny Tertiary Phase insertion about Zaphod in school, ‘It was always the same three hands going up’. It immediately attracted comment upon broadcast (Zaphod grew that third arm specifically for Trillian, according to the Primary Phase). So here, upon meeting Trillian for the first time, he announces, ‘I’d grow back my third arm for you.’ Phew.

  You and your black holes When Sir Patrick Moore heard that astrology was one of the themes of Mostly Harmless he revealed that he himself had just written a book on the subject (Stars of Destiny, Canopus, 2005). I was astonished, knowing Patrick’s views on astrology were pretty short and to the point. He solemnly presented me with a copy, pointing to a section in the back of the book which contained star diagrams and his idea of the astrological figures they represent. Thus joining the dots of the stars Spica, Heze, Zavijava and so on in Patrick’s version, one arrives not so much at a drawing of Virgo as of a Chamber Pot . . .

  Zaphod delivers the pizza This is the first wholly original stretch of the story; it is not in the book, but the threads of previous adventures – particularly the Secondary Phase – here begin to be gathered. Vann Harl in Mostly Harmless is a shiny-suited business creep, and frankly it wasn’t too big a stretch to equate that persona with the slippery and vaguely Machiavellian Zarniwoop of yesteryear. When Jonathan Pryce said he was very keen to rejoin the cast of Hitchhiker’s for a last hurrah, serendipitous vibrations filled the ether.

  This scene was enormous fun to write and direct. Zaphod is sorely missed in these last two books; given his new sense of purpose at the end of the Tertiary Phase it seemed logical he – more than anybody – would feel irked at the apparent disappearance of a huge chunk of his past, and go in search of it. The pleasure of having Mark back in the studio was doubled in this scene with Jonathan. There was a good deal of banter and quite a bit of pretend microphone hogging. Actually maybe it wasn’t pretend . . .

  Just as much fun was had depicting the Hitchhiker’s Guide reception area both as it once was and how it has now become; from the laid back dudes of history to the barcoded quota-observing automata serving the new Guide. Bit like the difference between the 70s and the 00s, really.

  The Hawalian Prophet Not, strictly speaking, vital to plot, apart from establishing Trillian Astra (Sue) as a successful reporter, but too good to miss out, especially with an actor of John Challis’s calibre playing the Prophet Who Hammered His Thumb.

  Ford and Colin The most technically challenging scenes we did in all the last three phases.

  With Marvin in earlier episodes we had established the idea of feeding Stephen’s voice, treated, through a small speaker in the studio which could then be carried around by either me or Ken Humphrey. Thus Marvin could interact in real time and real space with the other members of the cast as they played the scene. The result works particularly well through headphones because the spatial relationships picked up by the stereo microphone are very accurate and give one a sense of depth and width to the sound stage. With appropriate sound effects Marvin is right there moving around with the others.

  With these Colin and Ford scenes, Paul Deeley and I consciously upped the ante by setting up two stereo microphones mounted back-to-back, creating a 360° acting area which would occupy exactly the same space for the listener when played back in 5.1 surround (somehow it seems to provide a pretty nifty ‘ghost image’ in stereo too).

  The idea was to directly convey the presence of a melon-sized flying robot and an actor with a particularly fine set of lower front teeth moving in three-dimensional space.

  Trying to add the robot’s whirrings and geographically plot them in post-production would be too time consuming for the schedule, so to achieve this in one ‘hit’, we would need to feed through the portable speaker Colin’s voice – suitably treated – plus some kind of machine effect, changing pitch and timbre to suggest the robot manoeuvring or under strain, or moving at high speed, all in three dimensions.

  Ideally someone with a superb instinct for sound and the real-time physics of the scene could provide a sympathetic ‘live’ performance of Colin’s antigravity motors alongside the actors. This someone proved to be Paul Weir, introduced to us by the redoubtable Robbie Stamp.

  Paul is a musician and sound designer of daunting ability and with a great enthusiasm for Hitchhiker’s. He shares Douglas’s fascination with gadgetry and provided some additional sound effects for the movie. Now he very kindly agreed to come in and supply and perform a Colin motor effect for us. The result perfectly complemented Andy Secombe’s very funny vocal gymnastics as Colin.

  The suggestion to Andy regarding Colin’s persona was that the voice might be inspired by the historian David Starkey (at his most waspish) before Ford’s ‘adjustment’, and be a bit more ‘Priscilla, Queen of the Desert’ afterwards, and the way he ran with that idea was very funny.

  EPISODE TWO

  SIGNATURE TUNE

  ANNOUNCER: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams, Quintessential Phase.

  Sig fades.

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  THE VOICE: The problem of being born on a world in a Plural Zone never occurred to Arthur Dent during his confusing days aboard the Heart of Gold, his lonely nights on prehistoric Earth or even the embarrassed silences following his fumbled catches on the playing fields of Krikkit. Indeed, the idea that the universe could consist of more than one reality was beyond his slightest imagining. For years he blindly assumed that the one and only planet Earth was destroyed by the Vogons, and that that was – in all senses of the word – that. But then, seemingly for no reason at all, not even in response to an acute attack of allergic rhinitis by the Great Green Arkleseizure itself, another Earth flicked into existence, to replace the demolished one. And, upon that new Earth, Arthur met and fell in love with a troubled girl called Fenchurch, who he subsequently lost during a routine hyperspace jump. Now, in search of any kind of meaning, Arthur has arrived upon the planet Hawalion in the Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, where a tourist brochure promises ‘guidance by prophets and seers’. Of course he could just throw away the brochure and consult his copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, but he has been finding that becoming increasingly abstruse and paranoid and—

  FX: Pop!

  Music: Something floaty but unsettling under:

  VOICE OF THE BIRD: This pop-up is brought to you by Infinidim Enterprises. Click here for vital Hitchhiker’s Guide Pro update information—

  FX: Pop (but backwards . . . which is . . . Pop).

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  FX: To match Arthur’s actions, under:

  THE VOICE: —that something is wrong somewhere. Thus Arthur is even less inclined than usual to trust his Hitchhiker’s Guide, which means that at this parallel of the narrative, he mostly uses it for eating his sandwiches off.

  EXT. – HAWALION

  FX: Huge flies buzzing. Pot bubbling.

  FX: In foreground, Smelly Photocopier Woman is swatting flies.

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (Effort grunts interspersed with:) Get off! . . . bloomin’ buzzin’ sods . . . get your own goat carcass . . . (Splat) That’ll learn yer! . . . Keep still, dammit . . . bloated great bluebottle . . . come ’ere . . . (etc).

  ARTHUR: (Approach, gagging) Er . . . hallo? Excuse me? (Closer, low) Ye gods, what a stink . . .

  FX: Wet farty splurgey noise.

  ARTHUR: Oh . . . gross . . . Excuse me, I think I’ve trodden in a dead goat—

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: Mind my bladder!

  ARTHUR: What—?

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: The goat bladder – hanging behind you, you’ll—

  FX: Arthur turns, collides with washing line hung with goats’ bladders, gets tangled, collapses in a flurbling heap.

  FX: Fresh squadrons of
flies arrive, under:

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: Now you’ve disturbed the maggots, you . . . ! Hand me the table-tennis bat—

  ARTHUR: (Getting up) I’m so sorry . . .

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (Swatting) What do you want?

  ARTHUR: Er, I came to ask your advice.

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: What about?

  ARTHUR: Well, just sort of general advice, really. It said in the brochure—

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (Puts down bat) Ha! Brochure! Advice. Advice? To do with your life, that sort of thing?

  ARTHUR: Yes, er . . . what is that smell?

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (Sniff, then breaks wind hugely) What smell?

  ARTHUR: (Gagging slightly) Ah. Let me just move upwind of you—

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (Moving into cave) You’d better come in my cave.

  ARTHUR: Um – can’t we talk out here?

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (From cave) You’ll have to help me with the photocopier.

  ARTHUR: What?

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (Coming back out impatiently) The photocopier. You’ll have to help me drag it out. I have to keep it in the cave, so the birds don’t shit on it.

  ARTHUR: I see.

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: (Going back in to cave) I’d take a deep breath if I were you.

  ARTHUR: (Moves off) Ahead of you there. (Huge breath)

  FX: Business, off – they heave the photocopier out of the cave. This brings them back onto mic.

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: Right. You can breathe again now.

  ARTHUR: (Gasp of fresh air) Urrrrhhhhhh . . . . . . . . . !

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: Right, the solar cells seem to be charged up . . .

  FX: Photocopier running, under:

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: Always takes a minute or two . . . You’ll be wanting some lunch?

  FX: Bubbling pot back up. Stir of spoon in it.

  ARTHUR: Um – I’ve – um – eaten – thanks.

  SMELLY PHOTOCOPIER WOMAN: I’m sure you have. (Tastes a bit of stew) Mmm. Not too rank. Ooh – hang on—