Arthur’s edition of the New Hitchhiker’s Guide had this to say about failure: Failure is the only constant that will survive the end of the universe.

Dirk knocked on the sturdy wooden door with persistent determination. The kind of determination of a rain shower on a newly washed car. Fidgeting with his coat and adjusting his red hat, he knocked again with greater effort.

Arthur knew it was a bad idea. He was quite accustomed to failure, and had in fact won himself a case of Trovortian beetle larvae playing Rink Trenkix to a draw in prodigal chess. The object of which was to succeed at failing without trying to lose. It was one thing to see life, the universe, and everything vanish, but another to lose his towel.

“Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detecti…” is about as much as Dirk managed to say before taking an unconscious step back, slipping on the stairs, and blacking out.

“Arthur Dent” said the frightful man as Dirk slowly rose and dusted himself off.

“Was that a bathrobe?” asked Dirk.