“But very disappointed in you, young Zaphod…”
“Yeah well…” Zaphod felt strangely powerless to take charge of this conversation, and Ford’s heavy breathing at his side told him that the seconds were ticking away fast. The noise and the shaking had reached terrifying proportions. He saw Trillian and Arthur’s faces white and unblinking in the gloom.
“Er, Great Grandfather…”
“We’ve been following your progress with considerable despondency…”
“Yeah, look, just at the moment you see…”
“Not to say contempt!”
“Could you sort of listen for a moment…”
“I mean what exactly are you doing with your life?”
“I’m being attacked by a Vogon fleet!” cried Zaphod. It was an exaggeration, but it was his only opportunity so far of getting the basic point of the exercise across.
“Doesn’t surprise me in the least,” said the little old figure with a shrug.
“Only it’s happening right now you see,” insisted Zaphod feverishly.
The spectral ancestor nodded, picked up the cup Arthur Dent had brought in and looked at it with interest.
“Er… Great Granddad…”