She has been condemned by 'Females Repelled by an Uncaring Male Population Society' (FRUMPS) as 'degrading to females' and 'too stupid for words'. However, Gallumbits has proven to have one of the most brilliant female business minds of all time. Her three dimensional, full size holoposter (cost of the planning permission for the house extension included in the price) helped her retain her Positively the Most Polpular Pin-Up Award for the tenth year running and boosted her earnings close to Disaster Area proportions. Her favourite saying 'I don't care if they are more interested in my body than my mind, so long as they realise that I am more interested in their money than their body' angered the FRUMPS so much, they sued. Gallumbits was acquitted by a male judge and an all male jury.
Chauvinists on Earth will be comforted by the fact that although chauvinism may be dying out on Earth, the traditions are still being upheld in other parts of the Universe.
Eccentrica Gallumbits stood at the reception, hot with anticipation. Another rumour states that she can be hot with boredom, with disgust and while doing the dusting but only two of these can be genuinely vouched for. She could see Zaphod fighting his way to the door. She curled her leg around a small Tube supporting a drink. The small Tube dropped the drink in the excitement and ran over to his crowd of Tubes in the bar to exaggerate what happened.
"Hey Babe, what's shaking?" Said Zaphod after a dramatic entrance that included kicking the door open, only to slam in Arthur's face.
"Same things as always," said Gallumbits seductively and gave a physical demonstration. "I heard the bad news on the Sub Etha."
"Had to happen one day," said Zaphod.
"I suppose so," sighed Gallumbits, as seductively as the ear would allow. As she does everything seductively, it can be safely assumed that although it will no longer be mentioned, she is being seductive. "I'm wearing three black bands in memory of the sad day."
"First time I've seen them worn there," said Ford, fascinated.
"Little Ford!" Squealed Gallumbits. "It's been ages. Have you got over your little problem yet?" Ford's ogling was distracted.
"What problem's this, little Ford?" Asked Zaphod, deciding to kick off the personal abuse for the evening.
"Who's this?" Interrupted Gallumbits.
"Oh, this is just Arthur Dent, he's a friend of Trillian. He'll be alright if you can let him have some tea," said Zaphod, verbally swinging his fist from Ford to Arthur.
"The Arthur Dent?" Squealed Gallumbits. She squealed a lot.
"Not this again, yes, the Arthur Dent," said Arthur.
Gallumbits brushed past Zaphod and Ford, exciting them more than a brush should legally be allowed to. She put her arms on Arthur's shoulders and kissed him.
"I've heard a lot about you," she smouldered. "But I don't think I've had the pleasure."
Arthur's voice decided to go falsetto when he was hoping for a rich tenor. His body was pleading for mercy and a cold shower.
"I don't think we have," he squeaked. "How do you do."
"I've had no complaints so far."
"Well," said Arthur, searching for inspirational conversation in a mind filled with other matters. "That's very good."
"Don't worry, she's always after fresh blood," said Zaphod.
"Worried, who's worried?" Said Arthur, wondering if it was her perfume. "Not me, I'm not worried. What have I got to be worried about?"
"Nice place you've got here," said Ford, glancing briefly at the decor before resuming Gallumbits watching.
"I'm proud of it," said Gallumbits, sticking her chest out. "It's taken a long time to get it how I wanted it, but I think it will keep everyone happy." Arthur was swimming in a pool of ambiguity.
"I hope it lives down to your reputation," said Zaphod.
"I've worked hard enough to get it that way. I've got to sort out some business affairs right now, but you go and enjoy yourselves, it's all on the house tonight. I'll catch up with you later. Especially you, Arthur."
She touched all of them on the cheek with delicate fingers and disappeared behind a door into which Arthur had assumed was the men's toilet because of the men queuing up outside it.
"Still looking good," sighed Ford.
"And then some," replied Zaphod.
"And plenty after that," added Arthur, his voice edging down the scale to soprano.
"Well," said Zaphod, snapping out of the trance. "Let's observe and reserve."
"What?" Asked Arthur.
"Let's pick out the suitable women," explained Zaphod. "It's just as well I'm beyond having my style cramped."
"But your getting married tomorrow," protested Arthur.
"It's because I m getting married tomorrow that we must pull tonight. Otherwise the marriage will be null and void. It's a condition. That was one of the few good things I did as President of the Universe."
"And do we all have to pull?" Asked Arthur.
"We're supposed to, but we may make an exception in your case, it would be a shame to cancel the wedding because of you," piped Ford.
"Let's discuss this over a drink," pleaded Zaphod.
They headed into one of the 42 bars that had been littered all over the complex. The barman of this one stood proudly behind his bar, polishing glasses. Ford reached the bar first.
"Do you serve Pan Galactic Gargle-Blasters?" He asked. "And don't say we serve anyone with the money." The barman reached over the bar and picked Ford off the ground by the collar of his blazer.
"I happen to be one of the most experienced Pan Galactic Gargle-Blaster mixers in the Universe," muttered the barman in Ford's ear. Ford clapped his hand down on the barman's flattish head. The smacking noise and the shock caused the barman to drop Ford.
"Is that so?" Said Ford.
"That is so," said the barman.
"Well, buddy boy, I'm going to put you to the test," said Ford. "Do you know who is in our party? No? Zaphod Beeblebrox, that's who."
"Er, really?" Said the barman, swallowing hard.
Zaphod leaned against the bar, smiled, raised a hand and emitted his coolest 'Hi'.
"So mix one up and we'll see what Zaphod has to say," said Ford.
"It won't take a minute, Mr Beeblebrox," flustered the barman.
Zaphod placed all three hands on the bar and started breathing deeply. He rolled his heads in opposite directions, which caused a flutter of applause to come from the small crowd that had formed. A small camera hovered above the bar, transmitting the pictures to all the video screens in the night-club.
Zaphod started puffing and slapping his cheeks. He decided to use his right head for the drinking and his left head for the observing. He bent his knees and squatted down, his hands still on the bar. He blew loudly several times and stood upright. He turned to his audience, now quite large, and jogged on the spot. He thrust his arms up in a 'Rocky' type pose, one he had been mastering in front of the mirror, which started the applause again.
"I will need a silver spoon, preferably the one you used to make the drink, a timing device, a glass of water and a cloth," said Zaphod like a magician looking for volunteers. The barman dutifully produced all of these items and nervously placed them in front of Zaphod, who was staring at him like a boxer. The barman avoided Zaphod's eyes and put the drink down on the bar. The barman stood back and rubbed his hands together anxiously.
Zaphod sipped the glass of water, swilled it around in his mouth, gargled with it and spat it out. His suit had sensed the atmosphere of the moment and displayed dark, moody colours.