The crowd swivelled round.
“Ah my dear fellow,” called out the Captain, “Got any matches on you? Or a lighter? Anything like that?”
“No,” said Ford, sounding a little deflated. It wasn’t what he’d prepared. He decided he’d better be a little stronger on the subject.
“No I haven’t,” he continued, “No matches. Instead I bring you news…”
“Pity,” said the Captain, “We’ve all run out you see. Haven’t had a hot bath in weeks.”
Ford refused to be headed off.
“I bring you news,” he said, “of a discovery that might interest you.”
“Is it on the agenda?” snapped the man whom Ford had interrupted.
Ford smiled a broad country-rock singer smile.
“Now, come on,” he said.
“Well I’m sorry,” said the man huffily, “but speaking as a management consultant of many years’ standing, I must insist on the importance of observing the committee structure.”
Ford looked round the crowd.
“He’s mad you know,” he said, “this is a prehistoric planet.”
“Address the chair!” snapped the management consultant.
“There isn’t chair,” explained Ford, “there’s only a rock.”
The management consultant decided that testiness was what the situation now called for.
“Well, call it a chair,” he said testily.
“Why not call it a rock?” asked Ford.
“You obviously have no conception,” said the management consultant, not abandoning testiness in favour of good old fashioned hauteur, “of modern business methods.”
“And you have no conception of where you are,” said Ford.
A girl with a strident voice leapt to her feet and used it.
“Shut up, you two,” she said, “I want to table a motion.”
“You mean boulder a motion,” tittered a hairdresser.
“Order, order!” yapped the management consultant.