"And this is fashionable?" He asked the machine rhetorically.

"Upon my life, I've never seen anyone wear it so well," chirped the machine.

"It's not too bright?"

"Bright is in, my boy. You want to be noticed, don't you?"

"Yes, but not to be ridiculed."

"Don't be silly, I wish I could get away with wearing something like that."

"I'm more worried about being put away. And I suppose the motto Share and Enjoy applies to the clothes as well. How many people am I supposed to share this with at one time?"

"It's meant to be loose, it flows."

"So does wine, but I wouldn't go out in it."

"Well I can take it in a touch, but it would ruin the line."

''Don't bother, I'll get a second opinion.

Fenchurch was trying on one of Trillian's dresses for the wedding. Arthur charged in, muttered an embarra.s.sed apology and walked out.

"Arthur!" She shouted. He sheepishly put his head around the door. "Come in."

"I just wanted your opinion on this." He held his arms out and turned around. What the Tailormatic had produced was a gold lame track suit-like outfit, which hung on Arthur like snow on a weeping willow. Fabulous embroidery covered the outfit and reflective prism strips had been sown in all over.

"Well you'd look better hanging from the ceiling of the night-club than on the dancefloor. No, it's really quite different." Fenchurch had trouble suppressing a laugh.

"It's supposed to be fashionable in the better places in the Universe."

"When in Rome, do...."

"I think I'll wear my jacket over it, that way I wont feel like a walking laser light show."

Fenchurch went over to him and put her arms around his waist.

"Promise me you'll behave tonight."

"I promise, we'll probably just have a few drinks," lied Arthur. He knew Ford and Zaphod had been undergoing strenuous body conditioning all day in preparation for a full frontal a.s.sault on as much alcohol as they could lay their lips on. "Will you be alright here?"

"I'll be fine, the three of us haven't stopped nattering."

There was a knock at the door. Ford popped his head around the door.

"Thought I'd find you in here," he grinned. "We're off."

"I'll see you later," said Arthur, hoping that Ford would disappear so he could kiss Fenchurch goodbye, but he had no chance.

"Enjoy yourself, but not too much." Fenchurch kissed him on the cheek and patted his behind.

Arthur followed Ford down the stairs where Zaphod was waiting. His outfit made Arthur's seem like funeral attire. The suit shimmered and changed colour in splashes like a cinema screen before the film starts, but without the nauseating effect. Bolts of harmless laser burst from the suit at random and the matching headband glowed luminously.

"It's on random at the moment, buy I'll turn it to synchro in the night club to keep time with the music," said Zaphod. "Then watch out, 'cos my suit will do the dancing for me."

"That's good, when you dance people clear a s.p.a.ce in sympathy and for safety," said Ford.

"Hey, cool it with the jibes, I'm out for good vibes," said Zaphod. "Remember this is my night, I'm gonna do it just right."

"Are we going to get going or just talk about it?" Asked Arthur.

"Now there's someone straining at the leash," said Zaphod. "Obviously a love hungry man. We'll get going soon, monkey man. We won't use improbability drive, no point in getting there too early. We want to make a big entrance."

CHAPTER 47.

Eccentrica Gallumbits' night-club planet looked no different from any other Magrathean planet on approach. Only on closer inspection could you make out the glittering surface. Zaphod put the Heart of Gold into orbit around the planet to get a better look. A huge complex covered a quarter of the planet, with ship parks covering the remainder. Zaphod tuned the Sub-Etha radio into the planet and a ba.s.s line, which sounded like it had been carved out of granite, pounded the speakers.

"Now that's what I call a groove," said Zaphod, tapping his heads together in time.

The planet suddenly burst into light as it was switched to sound to light. The surface pulsated with the beat.

"Beats the h.e.l.l out of a neon sign," said Arthur.

Zaphod parked the Heart of Gold in a predominant position as usual. They stepped out into the ship park. A robot transporter pulled up and they climbed aboard.

"The electricity bill must be phenomenal," said Arthur, as the transporter weaved through the myriad of flashing lights.

"All done with fibre optics, no doubt," said Ford. "Probably all runs off one light bulb."

And the beat went on. The transporter had Quadraphonic speakers to confirm that the lights weren't going off at a tangent. Arthur could feel his heart trying to keep time with the music. The transporter pulled up at the main entrance.

Flash bulbs flashed. Cameras whirred. Reporters jostled with each other to get a good position.

"Are you still going through with it, Zaphod?"

"Are you really giving up the wild life?"

"Do you think marriage will interrupt your quest for ultimate coolness, Mr Beeblebrox?"

"Hey guys," said Zaphod, lapping up the attention. My future wife will hear about anything I say to you, and you know how you take things I say out of context." He stopped and posed briefly for photographers. "So I guess I ought to remain silent."

After several throwaway poses, he went through the crowd to the door. Ford and Arthur fought their way through to join him. Zaphod put his arms around them and grinned for the cameras. "One for the alb.u.m. My last night of freedom!"

CHAPTER 48.

Eccentrica Gallumbits, the triple breasted wh.o.r.e of Eroticon 6, is universally famous as one of the best good times known to males. Part of her fame is due to a coffee cup being placed on a genetic engineer's plan prior to her birth. Gallumbits, an old inferno of Zaphod Beeblebrox, has been the centre of many wild rumours, such as her erogenous zones starting four miles from her body where, in fact, it has been statistically proven that even when she is in the mood, the distance is at most two miles. Another rumour, inaccurate again, is that fortunate males, whom we shall accurately call joyriders, accompanying Gallumbits on what we shall call an excursion, experience a feeling akin to the planet/moon/starship/waterbed moving. Professional observers, positioned at a safe distance, have observed that no such movement is apparent. However, as joyriders considerably outnumber professional observers, this has yet to be proven. Any professional observers who have joined the growing ranks of joyriders in an attempt to measure any movement first hand usually drop all their necessary equipment in a frenzy at the appropriate moment.

She has been condemned by 'Females Repelled by an Uncaring Male Population Society' (FRUMPS) as 'degrading to females' and 'too stupid for words'. However, Gallumbits has proven to have one of the most brilliant female business minds of all time. Her three dimensional, full size holoposter (cost of the planning permission for the house extension included in the price) helped her retain her Positively the Most Polpular Pin-Up Award for the tenth year running and boosted her earnings close to Disaster Area proportions. Her favourite saying 'I don't care if they are more interested in my body than my mind, so long as they realise that I am more interested in their money than their body' angered the FRUMPS so much, they sued. Gallumbits was acquitted by a male judge and an all male jury.

Chauvinists on Earth will be comforted by the fact that although chauvinism may be dying out on Earth, the traditions are still being upheld in other parts of the Universe.

Eccentrica Gallumbits stood at the reception, hot with antic.i.p.ation. Another rumour states that she can be hot with boredom, with disgust and while doing the dusting but only two of these can be genuinely vouched for. She could see Zaphod fighting his way to the door. She curled her leg around a small Tube supporting a drink. The small Tube dropped the drink in the excitement and ran over to his crowd of Tubes in the bar to exaggerate what happened.

"Hey Babe, what's shaking?" Said Zaphod after a dramatic entrance that included kicking the door open, only to slam in Arthur's face.

"Same things as always," said Gallumbits seductively and gave a physical demonstration. "I heard the bad news on the Sub Etha."

"Had to happen one day," said Zaphod.

"I suppose so," sighed Gallumbits, as seductively as the ear would allow. As she does everything seductively, it can be safely a.s.sumed that although it will no longer be mentioned, she is being seductive. "I'm wearing three black bands in memory of the sad day."

"First time I've seen them worn there," said Ford, fascinated.

"Little Ford!" Squealed Gallumbits. "It's been ages. Have you got over your little problem yet?" Ford's ogling was distracted.

"What problem's this, little Ford?" Asked Zaphod, deciding to kick off the personal abuse for the evening.

"Who's this?" Interrupted Gallumbits.

"Oh, this is just Arthur Dent, he's a friend of Trillian. He'll be alright if you can let him have some tea," said Zaphod, verbally swinging his fist from Ford to Arthur.

"The Arthur Dent?" Squealed Gallumbits. She squealed a lot.

"Not this again, yes, the Arthur Dent," said Arthur.

Gallumbits brushed past Zaphod and Ford, exciting them more than a brush should legally be allowed to. She put her arms on Arthur's shoulders and kissed him.

"I've heard a lot about you," she smouldered. "But I don't think I've had the pleasure."

Arthur's voice decided to go falsetto when he was hoping for a rich tenor. His body was pleading for mercy and a cold shower.

"I don't think we have," he squeaked. "How do you do."

"I've had no complaints so far."

"Well," said Arthur, searching for inspirational conversation in a mind filled with other matters. "That's very good."

"Don't worry, she's always after fresh blood," said Zaphod.

"Worried, who's worried?" Said Arthur, wondering if it was her perfume. "Not me, I'm not worried. What have I got to be worried about?"

"Nice place you've got here," said Ford, glancing briefly at the decor before resuming Gallumbits watching.

"I'm proud of it," said Gallumbits, sticking her chest out. "It's taken a long time to get it how I wanted it, but I think it will keep everyone happy." Arthur was swimming in a pool of ambiguity.

"I hope it lives down to your reputation," said Zaphod.

"I've worked hard enough to get it that way. I've got to sort out some business affairs right now, but you go and enjoy yourselves, it's all on the house tonight. I'll catch up with you later. Especially you, Arthur."

She touched all of them on the cheek with delicate fingers and disappeared behind a door into which Arthur had a.s.sumed was the men's toilet because of the men queuing up outside it.

"Still looking good," sighed Ford.

"And then some," replied Zaphod.

"And plenty after that," added Arthur, his voice edging down the scale to soprano.

"Well," said Zaphod, snapping out of the trance. "Let's observe and reserve."

"What?" Asked Arthur.

"Let's pick out the suitable women," explained Zaphod. "It's just as well I'm beyond having my style cramped."

"But your getting married tomorrow," protested Arthur.

"It's because I m getting married tomorrow that we must pull tonight. Otherwise the marriage will be null and void. It's a condition. That was one of the few good things I did as President of the Universe."

"And do we all have to pull?" Asked Arthur.

"We're supposed to, but we may make an exception in your case, it would be a shame to cancel the wedding because of you," piped Ford.

"Let's discuss this over a drink," pleaded Zaphod.

They headed into one of the 42 bars that had been littered all over the complex. The barman of this one stood proudly behind his bar, polishing gla.s.ses. Ford reached the bar first.

"Do you serve Pan Galactic Gargle-Blasters?" He asked. "And don't say we serve anyone with the money." The barman reached over the bar and picked Ford off the ground by the collar of his blazer.

"I happen to be one of the most experienced Pan Galactic Gargle-Blaster mixers in the Universe," muttered the barman in Ford's ear. Ford clapped his hand down on the barman's flattish head. The smacking noise and the shock caused the barman to drop Ford.

"Is that so?" Said Ford.

"That is so," said the barman.

"Well, buddy boy, I'm going to put you to the test," said Ford. "Do you know who is in our party? No? Zaphod Beeblebrox, that's who."

"Er, really?" Said the barman, swallowing hard.