He knew something was wrong by the smell of the house and the sounds and colours of uneasy light that told him the mood of things was all akilter.

These he had given to the little girl, over the howled protests of the officers and despite repeated blows from a riflebutt in the small of his back.

Zaphod Beeblebrox, adventurer, ex-hippy, good-timer, (crook? quite possibly), manic self-publicist, terribly bad at personal relationships, often thought to be completely out to lunch.

Be prepared to slip and duck his jab to infight or to counter with a quick punch to the head or body.