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carried on. "And Arthur," he said, "this is my semi-cousin Zaphod Beeb ..." "We've met," said Arthur sharply. When you're cruising down the road in the fast lane and you lazily sail past a few hard driving cars and are feeling pretty pleased with yourself and then accidentally change down from fourth to first instead of third thus making your engine of the Galaxy as . "What do you mean you've met?" he demanded. "This is Zaphod Beeblebrox from Betelgeuse Five you know, not bloody Martin Smith from Croydon." "I don't care," said Arthur coldly. We've met, haven't we Zaphod Beeblebrox - or should I say ... Phil?" "What!" shouted Ford. "You'll have to remind me," said Zaphod. "I've a terrible memory for species." "It was at a party," pursued Arthur. "Yeah, well I doubt that," said Zaphod. "Cool it will you Arthur!" demanded Ford. Arthur would not be deterred. "A party six months ago. On Earth ... England ..." Zaphod shook his head with a tight-lipped smile.leap out of your bonnet in a rather ugly mess, it tends to throw you off your stride in much the same way that this remark threw Ford Prefect off his. "Err ... what?" "I said we've met." Zaphod gave an awkward start of surprise and jabbed a gum sharply. "Hey ... er, have we? Hey ... er ..." Ford rounded on Arthur with an angry flash in his the affairs