The Haggunennons of Azizatus Three have the most impatient chromosomes of any life-forms in the galaxy. Where as most races are content to evolve slowly and carefully over thousands of generations - discarding a prehensile toe here, nervously hazarding another nostril there, the Haggunennons would do for Charles Darwin what a squadron of Arcturan Stunt-Apples would have done for Sir Isaac Newton. Their genetic structure, based on the quadruple-striated octo-helix, is so chronically unstable, that far from passing their basic shape onto their children, they will quite frequently evolve several times over lunch. But they do this with such reckless abandon that if, sitting at table, they are unable to reach a coffee spoon, they are liable without a moments consideration to mutate into something with far longer arms - but which is probably quite incapable of drinking the coffee. This, not unnaturally, produces a terrible sense of personal insecurity and a jealous resentment of all stable life-forms, or “filthy rotten stinking samelings” as they call them. They justify this by claiming that as they have personally experienced what it is like to be virtually everybody else they can think of, they are in a very good position to appreciate all their worst points. This appreciation is usually military in nature and is carried out with unmitigated savagery from the gunrooms of their horribly beweaponed, chameleoid death flotilla. Experience has shown that the most effective way of dealing with any Haggunennon you may meet is to run away… terribly fast.
...
ZAPHOD:
That chair is scratching its leg.
TRILLIAN:
It’s just been asleep all this time.
FORD:
Arthur! For god’s sake get back here quick!
ZAPHOD:
Yeah stand up when you sit on the admiral, primate!
TRILLIAN:
It’s moving! Look, it’s starting to evolve!
(A loud roar)
ZAPHOD:
(Screams)
FORD:
Eat your heart out Galapagos Islands.
ZAPHOD:
G-force you know what that is?
TRILLIAN:
Let me guess, terrible! Am I wrong?
(Another loud roar)
ZAPHOD:
It’s a carbon copy of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal - or I’m a Vogon’s Grandmother!
ARTHUR:
The Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal! Is it safe?
(Sound of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal salivating)
FORD:
Oh Yes! It’s perfectly safe - it’s just us who are in trouble. If that’s the admiral and he still wants his coffee it ain’t sponge fingers he’s gonna dunk in it.
(A loud roar)
ZAPHOD:
Wuuahhhhhhhh!
TRILLIAN:
Ford! Throw some furniture at it!
FORD:
What do I do?! Pick up this table by the ears?
ARTHUR:
(Shouts)Oh god, the whole place is coming alive!
(We hear the contents of the spaceship slowly waking up…)
ZAPHOD:
Yeah, and we’re coming dead!
TRILLIAN:
These ashtrays! Just turned into a jar full of anacondas!
ZAPHOD:
Just- just tell it we’ll let them know!
TRILLIAN:
Ah! Urgh!
FORD:
Get off me you filthy sofa!
ARTHUR:
God! And I thought Times Furnishing was a riffing!
ZAPHOD:
(Shouts)
FORD:
Arthur and I’ll take this one! Zaphod you and the others take the left-hand one!
ZAPHOD:
Right!
(Over the roaring we hear the escape capsule opening)
FORD:
Press the go start Arthur.
(The escape capsule leaves the ship)
http://www.clivebanks.co.uk/THHGTTG/THHGTTGradio6.htmOr did they? Tune in to later, highly contradictory episodes, to find out ...