In the books I don’t remember reading anything about him having mouths for nipples, or a singing belly button. I guess he had one too many Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters.

“[The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy] says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. It says that the effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.”

I’ve got to hand it to him though, he can still pick up interstellar chicks like nobody’s business. There’s a man who knows where his towel is. I haven’t ventured much further than my mailbox in recent years, so I’m not sure what the modern space woman has to offer. I’m just glad to see someone has picked up where I left off.

[Infinite thanks to the wise and all-seeing Charles Schneider for sending this video along]