My mistake. And now for an excerpt from...a book.

Today was the day; today was the day when they would realize what
Zaphod had been up to. Today was what Zaphod Beeblebrox's
Presidency was all about. Today was also his two hundredth
birthday, but that was just another meaningless coincidence.
As he skipped his boat across the seas of Damogran he smiled
quietly to himself about what a wonderful exciting day it was
going to be. He relaxed and spread his two arms lazily across the
seat back. He steered with an extra arm he'd recently fitted just
beneath his right one to help improve his ski-boxing.
''Hey,'' he cooed to himself, ''you're a real cool boy you.'' But his
nerves sang a song shriller than a dog whistle.
The island of France was about twenty miles long, five miles
across the middle, sandy and crescent shaped. In fact it seemed
to exist not so much as an island in its own right as simply a
means of defining the sweep and curve of a huge bay. This
impression was heightened by the fact that the inner coastline of
the crescent consisted almost entirely of steep cliffs. From the
top of the cliff the land sloped slowly down five miles to the
opposite shore.