Mark Carwardine's role, essentially, was to be the one who knew what he was talking about. My role, and one for which I was entirely qualified, was to be an extremely ignorant non-zoologist to whom everything that happened would come as a complete surprise.

One of the things Ford Prefect had always found hardest to understand about humans was their habit of continually stating and repeating the very very obvious.

Dirk turned on the car wipers, which grumbled because they didn't have quite enough rain to wipe away, so he turned them off again. Rain quickly speckled the windscreen. He turned on the wipers again, but they still refused to feel that the exercise was worthwhile, and scraped and squeaked in protest.

The World Wide Web is the only thing I know of whose shortened form takes three times longer to say than what it's short for.

Six pints of bitter, said Ford Prefect. And quickly please, the world's about to end.

He has personality problems beyond the dreams of analysts.

If everyone knew exactly what I was going to say, then there would be no point in my saying it, would there?