“My name?’ said the old man, and the same distant sadness came into his face again. He paused. ‘My name,’ he said, ‘. . . is Slartibartfast.’ Arthur practically choked. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he spluttered. ‘Slartibartfast,’ repeated the old man quietly. ‘Slartibartfast?’ The old man looked at him gravely. ‘I said it wasn’t important,’ he said.”