Betelgeusean adj.

A planet a day was their schedule; they may / Be in lands Betelgeusean now!

What on Eron’s the idea of that analysis you sent me just now, you Betelguesian [sic] slime worm?

The network of agents, both Imperial and bribed Betelgeusean—who ultimately were under his command—were finding the going suddenly rugged.

Altai meant Golden in the language of the planet’s human colonists; or so the Betelgeusean trader who passed on his knowledge electronically to Flandry had insisted.

157,000 fully paid up Earthmen are members of the Trust now. All dedicated volunteers, too. Make a tidy old fifth column would that lot. All like as not under brain control from red planets out there in the wild blue yonder or transubstantiated from other worlds waiting for UFO Landing Day and the big takeover. [...] They call themselves the National Trust all right, but have they ever said to what nation they’re referring? British? Venusian? Even, maybe, Betelgeusian?

The chief communications console operator sat with his eyes glued to a red tracer screen, muffled earphones clapped to the sides of his head. An empty food tray stood forgotten on top of his console, nearly full containers of condiments and spices resting among the emptied dishes of roast Betelgeusan swamp hen and iced Plorusian slug-jell.

‘So... er, what happens next?’ asked Arthur. ‘Oh, er, well the hatchway in front of us will open automatically in a few moments and we will shoot out into deep space I expect and asphyxiate. If you take a lungfulof air with you you can last for up to thirty seconds of course...’ said Ford. He stuck his hands behind his back, raised his eyebrows and started to hum an old Betelgeusian battle hymn.

Gastronomy. Of various ideas we tried out to do with inventing alien cultures and societies, this proved to be much the easiest and most fun. All you have to do is describe the alien dish named, again rather after the manner of Call My Bluff: Betelgeusian squop-nuts, Altairian flatties, blue snoop, great hyperspatial whistling dipple, &c.

Space may be the final frontier, but there’s at least one more earthbound arena ripe for socio-political struggle before it’s time to start worrying about Martian mineral rights and the exploitation of Betelgeusian guest workers. Electronics.

It had been a beautiful ceremony, in the way that all chaos is beautiful [...] She’d invited over five hundred of the galaxy’s most noted and influential sentients, of not only this era but (thanks to time travel) others; she’d seated them in floating tiers above the molten floor of the Betelgeusian Church of Universal Entropy and given them each a queen’s ransom in pure phlogiston just as a reward for showing up.