We must find the Silver Bail, it is here somewhere.
Can’t we just relax a little? Arthur said. I’ve had a tough day. Trillian’s here, incidentally, she didn’t say how, it probably doesn’t matter.
Think of the danger to the Universe…
The Universe, said Arthur, is big enough and old enough to look after itself for half an hour. All right, he added, in response to Slartibartfast’s increasing agitation, I’ll wander round and see if anybody’s seen it.
Good, good, said Slartibartfast, good. He plunged into the crowd himself, and was told to relax by everybody he passed.
Have you seen a bail anywhere? said Arthur to a little man who seemed to be standing eagerly waiting to listen to somebody. It’s made of silver, vitally important for the future safety of the Universe, and about this long.
No, said the enthusiastically wizened little man, but do have a drink and tell me all about it.
Ford Prefect writhed past, dancing a wild, frenetic and not entirely unobscene dance with someone who looked as if she was wearing Sydney Opera House on her head. He was yelling a futile conversation at her above the din.
I like that hat! he bawled.
What?
I said, I like the hat.
I’m not wearing a hat.
Well, I like the head, then.
What?
I said, I like the head. Interesting bone-structure.
What?
Ford worked a shrug into the complex routine of other movements he was performing.
I said, you dance great, he shouted, just don’t nod so much.
What?
It’s just that every time you nod, said Ford, –…ow! he added as his partner nodded forward to say What? and once again pecked him sharply on the forehead with the sharp end of her swept-forward skull.
My planet was blown up one morning, said Arthur, who had found himself quite unexpectedly telling the little man his life story or, at least, edited highlights of it, that’s why I’m dressed like this, in my dressing gown. My planet was blown up with all my clothes in it, you see. I didn’t realize I’d be coming to a party.
The little man nodded enthusiastically.