is an excellent book by Douglas Adams (isbn 978-0-330-49120-4).
As usual
I'm going to quote from a few pages.
He would insult the universe. That is, he would insult
everybody in it. Individually, personally, one by one,
and (this was the thing that he really decided to grit his teeth over)
in alphabetical order.
'Eddies,' said Ford, 'in the space-time continuum.'
'Ah, nodded Arthur, 'is he? Is he?'
It was a charming and delightful day at Lord's as
Ford and Arthur tumbled haphazardly out of a space-time
anomaly and the immaculate turf rather hard.
'A what?' he said.
'An SEP.'
'An S...?'
'...EP.'
'And what's that?'
'Somebody Else's Problem,' said Ford.
The second non-absolute number is the given time of arrival,
which is now known to be one those most bizarre of concepts,
a recipriversexcluson, a number whose existence can only
be defined as being anything other than itself. In other words,
the given time of arrival is the one moment of time at which
it is impossible that any member of the party will arrive.
'Tell me it was a coincidence, Dent' it said. 'I dare you
to tell me it was a coincidence!'
'It was a coincidence,' said Arthur quickly.
It was the Cathedral of Hate.
It was the product of a min that was not merely twisted,
but actually sprained.
It was huge. It was horrific.
It had a Statue in it.
We will come to the Statue in a moment.
'I got yanked involuntarily back into the physical word,'
pursued Agrajag, 'as a bunch of petunias. In, I might add, a bowl.'
Strictly speaking, all editors since Lig Lury Jr have therefore
been designated Acting Editors, and Lig's desk is still
preserved the way he left it, with the addition of a small sign
which says 'Lig Lury Jr, Editor, Missing, presumed Fed'.
The longest and most destructive party ever held is now into its
fourth generation and still no one shows any signs of leaving.
