"You wouldn't need to," said Ford. "They've got as much sex appeal as a road accident. No, don't move," he added as Arthur began to uncurl himself, "you'd better be prepared for the jump into hyperspace. It's unpleasantly like being drunk."
"What's so unpleasant about being drunk?"
"You ask a glass of water."
Arthur thought about this.
"Ford," he said.
"Yeah?"
"What's this fish doing in my ear?"
"It's translating for you. It's a Babel fish. Look it up in the book if you like."
He tossed over The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and then curled himself up into a foetal ball to prepare himself for the jump.
At that moment the bottom fell out of Arthur's mind.
His eyes turned inside out. His feet began to leak out of the top of his head.
The room folded flat about him, spun around, shifted out of existence and left him sliding into his own navel.
They were passing through hyperspace.