I don't do book reviews usually, but I just could not pass on sharing this masterpiece with the rest of the world:
The book is a guide book, a travel book.
It is one of the most remarkable, certainly the most successful, books ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor—more popular than Life Begins at Five Hundred and Fifty, better selling than The Big Bang Theory—A Personal View by Eccentrica Gallumbits (the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six) and more controversial then Oolon Colluphid's latest blockbusting title Everything You Never Wanted to Know About Sex but Have Been Forced to Find Out.
(And in many of the more relaxed civilizations on the Outer Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, it has long supplanted the great Encyclopedia Galactica as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom, for though it has many omissions and contains much that is apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate, it scores over the older more pedestrian work in two important respects. First, it is slightly cheaper, and secondly it has the words DON'T PANIC printed in large friendly letters on its cover.)
It is of course that invaluable companion for all those who want to see the marvels of the known Universe for less than thirty Altairian dollars a day—The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
From page 170 of The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, Proprietary Edition, 2017, in which this part of the novel The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (Adams, 1980) was republished.