"What's happening?" Asked Ford, emerging from a room with Bolo and looking as dishevelled as everyone else, much to his surprise.

"We got hit during a space battle," explained Zaphod, flicking on the scanner screen. "We spun out of control and crash landed on this planet and as you can see, hundreds of it's rather short looking inhabitants are flooding over the desert towards us."

"What are we going to do?" Asked Fenchurch.

"The monkey man is going out to talk to them," said Zaphod, casually.

"What?" Yelled Arthur.

"I knew we should have got him a replacement brain," said Zaphod. "Do you want to know where the tea is before you go?"

"Zaphod! You can't send Arthur out there," exclaimed Trillian. "They could tear him to pieces."

Zaphod declined to comment, but grinned. His teeth acted as a red rag to Arthur. He charged across the bridge, intending to send Zaphod flying, but Zaphod neatly side stepped and Arthur flew past, through a happy door that opened on seeing a body flying towards it and wished Arthur a fruitful journey. Arthur rolled down some stairs and ended up by the main airlock, which gladly hissed open.

Arthur was confronted by hundreds of cheering dwarves.

"Hooray, 'Our Seventh Obu' is dead. Long live our saviour!" They cheered.

Arthur looked down and saw, to his dismay, two stumpy legs sticking out from under the Heart of Gold. He rightly assumed they belonged to 'Our Seventh Obu'. He didn't assume that she was the most infamous critic of Our Third Entism and was widely hated for her outspoken comments. If he had assumed this he would have again been right. He didn't so he apologised.

"Don't apologise," shouted Latigid, the chief Stavromulan. "You have rid us of a blight to our land. What is the name of our hero?"

"Arthur Dent," said Arthur and was astounded when the entire crowd fell to their knees, causing a minor sandstorm. He was joined by the rest of the party, who too were astounded.

"What did you say to them, Arthur?" Asked Ford.

"I just told them my name."

"The Holy One shall wear the slippers of 'Our Seventh Obu' as protection and shall be carried on high to the holy theatre!" Said Latigid.

Many dwarves rushed forward and put the red slippers from 'Our Seventh Obu's' feet on Arthur's feet. They didn't fit but as he was picked up it didn't really matter.

"What about my friends?" Asked Arthur.

"They too shall be carried on high."

On high wasn't particularly high. Arthur's feet dragged along the ground, but it was better than walking. The road looked rough on the feet.

Some one had obviously run ahead to spread the news, as crowds began to line the brick road. Arthur could see a town ahead. The crowds grew larger and Arthur began to enjoy himself. He waved at the crowds and they waved back.

"Oooh, that's Our Third Ent!" Cried one woman, beside herself with excitement, which was quite a trick for a woman of her size.

"He's much bigger than I thought he would be," shouted another person.

One group wasn't cheering. Their sect believed in the Second Sitting, but also believed that Our Third Ent shouldn't have gone away in the first place. They were very devout and probably one of the most boring offshoots of Our Third Entism. They didn't pursue the sexual rituals that most other sects did and didn't have any religious holidays. They were the only sect that believed that Our Third Ent should be punished on his return and the gun that was to exercise that punishment was aimed at Arthur's head.

Arthur, oblivious to this and many other startling facts about this planet, was having a great time. People rushed from the crowd just to be touched by him, something that had never happened on Earth. He wasn't particularly overjoyed by having his feet dragged along the ground and he could feel one of his slippers slipping off. No matter how much he wriggled his toes, it wouldn't stay on. Eventually he bent over and forced it back onto his foot.

At that moment, a bullet whistled through the space that had previously contained his head, continued it's path and lodged itself firmly in the heart of someone standing in the crowd. No-one heard the shot because of all the cheering and those around him assumed the man had suffered a heart attack. They were wrong because fate had deemed this to the man in a former life and for variety had opted for the bullet this time. Arthur saw none of this and could therefore feel no sorrow for Agrajag.

"Arthur," shouted Ford. "This is all very nice, but I imagine that the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation will come looking for us soon."

"But Ford," sighed Zaphod, lapping up the adulation even though it wasn't for him. "The Heart of Gold is one invalid improbability drive ship."

"Ah, I know," said Ford, a grin creeping onto his face. "But I found a back up improbability drive generator in our quarters. All we need to do is fix the stabilisers and we're history here."

"I think Arthur is already history on this planet," said Fenchurch, proud of her man.

"Ford," said Zaphod, still waving at the crowd. "We need an atomic vector plotter to connect the back up to the ship and I used the last one two weeks ago to unblock the toilet."

"I knew there was something we forgot at the megamarket last week," moaned Trillian.

"Perhaps these people have one," said Bolo, hopefully.

"Any race that looks up to a puny primate is hardly likely to have evolved up to atomic vector plotter level," muttered Zaphod.

Unfortunately, his bearers heard this. They dropped him, which didn't hurt, then jumped on him, which did.

"Blasphemer!" They yelled.

In no time at all, Zaphod was trussed up by the crowd and suspended from a pole held by his bearers.

"Hey guys," he moaned. "Can't you take a joke? You've got as much humour as a Vogon Stag Night!"

The power of this statement was lost on the Stavromulans, as they had never even met a Vogon, let alone be subjected to the ugliness of a Vogon bride.

"Serves you right," said Trillian. "You chose the wrong place to insult Arthur."

"Arthur, get them to put me down!" Yelled Zaphod, letting his cool slip to lukewarm.

"We will do with him as you wish," said Latigid.

"Leave him as he is until I decide," said Arthur, gloating.

"Zaphod broke into a sob and Marvin broke into the Death March to cheer Zaphod up.

The procession entered a long tunnel which Arthur failed to gauge accurately and subsequently remembered this by having to endure a bump on the head and the accompanying pain.

The tunnel emerged into a large open air amphitheatre packed with Stavromulans. Marvin's bearers literally collapsed with joy as they reached the stage.

"Don't apologise," said Marvin, knowing full well they had no intention of doing so. "I expect to be thrown about. It's all part of life."

He was barely heard over the roars of the crowd as Arthur was introduced.

"Look," argued Zaphod. "The crowd have got what they want. Why don't you let me go?"

Latigid was unimpressed.

"Your arguments have become stale and boring."

"Stale, me?" Zaphod protested. "I'm so fresh my sell by date is light years away. By nunk, Arthur, I'll get you for this."

Arthur wasn't listening. He was devouring all the adulation being thrust upon him. He walked to the front of the stage and held his arms out. This inspired more hysterical cheers from the crowd. He cleared his throat to speak and a sudden hush fell over the crowd.

"People," he started. He felt it was a strong opening seeing as he had no insight into their culture. They hung on his every word. "I am Arthur Dent."