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In
many
of
the
more
relaxed
civilizations
on
the
Outer
Eastern
Rim
of
the
Galaxy
,
the
Hitch
Hiker
's
Guide
has
already
supplanted
the
great
Encyclopedia
Galactica
as
the
standard
repository
of
all
knowledge
and
wisdom
,
for
though
it
has
many
omissions
and
contains
much
that
is
apocryphal
,
or
at
least
wildly
inaccurate
,
it
scores
over
the
older
,
more
pedestrian
work
in
two
important
respects
.
First
,
it
is
slightly
cheaper
;
and
secondly
it
has
the
words
DO
N'T
PANIC
inscribed
in
large
friendly
letters
on
its
cover
But
the
story
of
this
terrible
,
stupid
Thursday
,
the
story
of
its
extraordinary
consequences
,
and
the
story
of
how
these
consequences
are
inextricably
intertwined
with
this
remarkable
book
begins
very
simply
.
It
begins
with
a
house
.
The
house
stood
on
a
slight
rise
just
on
the
edge
of
the
village
.
It
stood
on
its
own
and
looked
over
a
broad
spread
of
West
Country
farmland
.
Not
a
remarkable
house
by
any
means
--
it
was
about
thirty
years
old
,
squattish
,
squarish
,
made
of
brick
,
and
had
four
windows
set
in
the
front
of
a
size
and
proportion
which
more
or
less
exactly
failed
to
please
the
eye
.
The
only
person
for
whom
the
house
was
in
any
way
special
was
Arthur
Dent
,
and
that
was
only
because
it
happened
to
be
the
one
he
lived
in
.
He
had
lived
in
it
for
about
three
years
,
ever
since
he
had
moved
out
of
London
because
it
made
him
nervous
and
irritable
.
He
was
about
thirty
as
well
,
dark
haired
and
never
quite
at
ease
with
himself
.
The
thing
that
used
to
worry
him
most
was
the
fact
that
people
always
used
to
ask
him
what
he
was
looking
so
worried
about
.
He
worked
in
local
radio
which
he
always
used
to
tell
his
friends
was
a
lot
more
interesting
than
they
probably
thought
.
It
was
,
too
--
most
of
his
friends
worked
in
advertising
.
It
had
n't
properly
registered
with
Arthur
that
the
council
wanted
to
knock
down
his
house
and
build
an
bypass
instead
.
At
eight
o'clock
on
Thursday
morning
Arthur
did
n't
feel
very
good
.
He
woke
up
blearily
,
got
up
,
wandered
blearily
round
his
room
,
opened
a
window
,
saw
a
bulldozer
,
found
his
slippers
,
and
stomped
off
to
the
bathroom
to
wash
.
Toothpaste
on
the
brush
--
so
.
Scrub
.
Shaving
mirror
--
pointing
at
the
ceiling
.
He
adjusted
it
.
For
a
moment
it
reflected
a
second
bulldozer
through
the
bathroom
window
.
Properly
adjusted
,
it
reflected
Arthur
Dent
's
bristles
.
