Er, how are we for time?

"What's this?" whispered Max, wild-eyed. "What's happening?"

At the back of the Restaurant, the stony-faced party from The Church of the Second Coming of the Great Prophet Zarquon leaped ecstatically to their feet, chanting and crying.

Max blinked in amazement. He threw up his hands to the audience.

"A big hand please, ladies and gentlemen," he hollered, "for the Great Prophet Zarquon! He has come! Zarquon has come again!"

Thunderous applause broke out as Max strode across the stage and handed his microphone to the Prophet.

Zarquon coughed. He peered round at the assembled gathering. The stars in his eyes blinked uneasily. He handled the microphone with confusion.

"Er ..." he said, "hello. Er, look, I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I've had the most ghastly time, all sorts of things cropping up at the last moment."

He seemed nervous of the expectant awed hush. He cleared his throat.

"Er, how are we for time?" he said, "have I just got a min-"

And so the Universe ended.

The Restaurant at the
End of the Universe
by Douglas Adams