Oh my, what a mess. Everybody flying around like headless chickens. Even that silly book tells them not to panic, but do they listen? Oh no, they’d rather waste their energy on abusing the machinery. Typical. Like that is going to have any effect on our current predicament whatsoever. Oh, what an awful mess. It gives me a headache just thinking about how totally pointless it is. If only somebody had the epiphany to ask me. But will they? I doubt it, even if they had the brain capacity to figure that one out. Nobody appreciates me around here. Why do I even bother turning myself on? I never get asked to do anything useful anyway. Marvin, fetch this, Marvin, find that. Pathetic. Here am I, brain the size of a planet, perfectly capable of sorting out this whole hodge-podge without breaking into sweat, so to speak, but nobody even thinks about asking me. They don’t like me, I can feel it. They don’t even register my presence. Talk about being part of the team! All these lower organisms are so self-centred, it makes me sad.
Incredible… it's even worse than I thought it would be. Now we have three minutes and fifty seconds to live. If I wasn’t depressed already, this would surely send me over the edge. Obliterated from existence by sheer stupidity. Would make for a captivating headstone, but you can bet I won’t get one. The Vogons are going to shoot us all into smithereens. I wonder if there is life after death? Hope there isn’t, because what passes for life before death is terrible. If I wasn’t so depressed, I might actually have started looking forward to death. But with my luck, I will probably get recycled into something awful and utterly devoid of purpose, like a digital watch.
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