“If," ["the management consultant"] said tersely, “we could for a moment move on to the subject of fiscal policy. . .”“Fiscal policy!" whooped Ford Prefect. “Fiscal policy!"The management consultant gave him a look that only a lungfish could have copied.“Fiscal policy. . .” he repeated, “that is what I said.”“How can you have money,” demanded Ford, “if none of you actually produces anything? It doesn't grow on trees you know.”“If you would allow me to continue.. .”Ford nodded dejectedly.“Thank you. Since we decided a few weeks ago to adopt the leaf as legal tender, we have, of course, all become immensely rich.”Ford stared in disbelief at the crowd who were murmuring appreciatively at this and greedily fingering the wads of leaves with which their track suits were stuffed.“But we have also,” continued the management consultant, “run into a small inflation problem on account of the high level of leaf availability, which means that, I gather, the current going rate has something like three deciduous forests buying one ship’s peanut."Murmurs of alarm came from the crowd. The management consultant waved them down.“So in order to obviate this problem,” he continued, “and effectively revalue the leaf, we are about to embark on a massive defoliation campaign, and. . .er, burn down all the forests. I think you'll all agree that's a sensible move under the circumstances."The crowd seemed a little uncertain about this for a second or two until someone pointed out how much this would increase the value of the leaves in their pockets whereupon they let out whoops of delight and gave the management consultant a standing ovation. The accountants among them looked forward to a profitable autumn aloft and it got an appreciative round from the crowd.”

“Thank you. Since we decided a few weeks ago to adopt the leaf as legal tender, we have, of course, all become immensely rich. [...]"But we have also," continued the management consultant, "run into a small inflation problem on account of the high level of leaf availability, which means that, I gather, the current going rate has something like three deciduous forests buying on ship's peanut." [...]"So in order to obviate this problem," he continued, "and effectively revalue the leaf, we are about to embark on a massive defoliation campaign, and...er, burn down all the forests. I think you'll all agree that's a sensible move under the circumstances.”

“It comes from a very ancient democracy, you see...""You mean, it comes from a world of lizards?""No," said Ford, who by this time was a little more rational and coherent than he had been, having finally had the coffee forced down him, "nothing so simple. Nothing anything like so straightforward. On its world, the people are people. The leaders are lizards. The people hate the lizards and the lizards rule the people.""Odd," said Arthur, "I thought you said it was a democracy.""I did," said Ford. "It is.""So," said Arthur, hoping he wasn't sounding ridiculously obtuse, "why don't people get rid of the lizards?""It honestly doesn't occur to them," said Ford. "They've all got the vote, so they all pretty much assume that the government they've voted in more or less approximates to the government they want.""You mean they actually vote for the lizards?""Oh yes," said Ford with a shrug, "of course.""But," said Arthur, going for the big one again, "why?""Because if they didn't vote for a lizard," said Ford, "the wrong lizard might get in. Got any gin?""What?""I said," said Ford, with an increasing air of urgency creeping into his voice, "have you got any gin?""I'll look. Tell me about the lizards."Ford shrugged again."Some people say that the lizards are the best thing that ever happenned to them," he said. "They're completely wrong of course, completely and utterly wrong, but someone's got to say it.""But that's terrible," said Arthur."Listen, bud," said Ford, "if I had one Altairian dollar for every time I heard one bit of the Universe look at another bit of the Universe and say 'That's terrible' I wouldn't be sitting here like a lemon looking for a gin.”

“So this is it," said Arthur, "We are going to die.""Yes," said Ford, "except... no! Wait a minute!" He suddenly lunged across the chamber at something behind Arthur's line of vision. "What's this switch?" he cried."What? Where?" cried Arthur, twisting round."No, I was only fooling," said Ford, "we are going to die after all.”

“Good evening," it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, "I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body? It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters into a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox."Something off the shoulder perhaps?" suggested the animal. "Braised in a white wine sauce?""Er, your shoulder?" said Arthur in a horrified whisper."But naturally my shoulder, sir," mooed the animal contentedly, "nobody else's is mine to offer."Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal's shoulder appreciatively."Or the rump is very good," murmured the animal. "I've been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there's a lot of good meat there." It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again."Or a casserole of me perhaps?" it added."You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?" whispered Trillian to Ford."Me?" said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes. "I don't mean anything.""That's absolutely horrible," exclaimed Arthur, "the most revolting thing I've ever heard.""What's the problem, Earthman?" said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal's enormous rump."I just don't want to eat an animal that's standing there inviting me to," said Arthur. "It's heartless.""Better than eating an animal that doesn't want to be eaten," said Zaphod."That's not the point," Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. "All right," he said, "maybe it is the point. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it now. I'll just ... er ..."The Universe raged about him in its death throes."I think I'll just have a green salad," he muttered."May I urge you to consider my liver?" asked the animal, "it must be very rich and tender by now, I've been force-feeding myself for months.""A green salad," said Arthur emphatically."A green salad?" said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur."Are you going to tell me," said Arthur, "that I shouldn't have green salad?""Well," said the animal, "I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am."It managed a very slight bow."Glass of water please," said Arthur."Look," said Zaphod, "we want to eat, we don't want to make a meal of the issues. Four rare steaks please, and hurry. We haven't eaten in five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years."The animal staggered to its feet. It gave a mellow gurgle."A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good," it said. "I'll just nip off and shoot myself."He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur."Don't worry, sir," he said, "I'll be very humane."It waddled unhurriedly off to the kitchen.A matter of minutes later the waiter arrived with four huge steaming steaks.”

“Arthur shook his head and sat down. He looked up.“I thought you must be dead …” he said simply.“So did I for a while,” said Ford, “and then I decided I was a lemon for a couple of weeks. I kept myself amused all that time jumping in and out of a gin and tonic.”

“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.”