“What?”
“What use is your life to anyone? When I think of what you’ve made of it the phrase ‘pig’s ear’ comes irresistibly to my mind.”
“But I was President of the Galaxy, man!”
“Huh,” muttered his ancestor, “And what kind of a job is that for a Beeblebrox?”
“Hey, what? Only President you know! Of the whole Galaxy!”
“Conceited little megapuppy.”
Zaphod blinked in bewilderment.
“Hey, er, what are you at, man? I mean Great Grandfather.”
The hunched up little figure stalked up to his great grandson and tapped him sternly on the knee. This had the effect of reminding Zaphod that he was talking to a ghost because he didn’t feel a thing.
“You know and I know what being President means, young Zaphod. You know because you’ve been it, and I know because I’m dead and it gives one such a wonderfully uncluttered perspective. We have a saying up here. ‘Life is wasted on the living.’”
“Yeah,” said Zaphod bitterly, “very good. Very deep. Right now I need aphorisms like I need holes in my heads.”
“Fifty seconds,” grunted Ford Prefect.
“Where was I?” said Zaphod Beeblebrox the Fourth.
“Pontificating,” said Zaphod Beeblebrox.
“Oh yes.”