Jingo

quick learner, sir, and I believe I have some prowess with the carving knife.” The butler’s face showed a patriotic alertness.
    “On turkeys and so on…” said Vimes.
    “Yes, sir,” said Willikins, buffing up the ceremonial helmet.
    “And you’re off to fight the screaming hordes in Klatch, are you?”
    “If it should come to that, sir,” said Willikins. “I think this is adequately polished now, sir.”
    “A very sandy place, so they say.”
    “Indeed, sir,” said Willikins, adjusting the helmet under Vimes’s chin.
    “And rocky. Very rocky. Lots of rocks. Dusty, too.”
    “Very parched in parts, sir, I believe you are correct.”
    “And so into this land of sand-colored dust and sand-colored rocks and sand-colored sand you , Willikins, will march with your expertise in cutlery and your red and white uniform?”
    “With the gold frogging, sir.” Willikins thrust out his jaw. “Yes, sir. If the need arises.”
    “You don’t see anything wrong with this picture?”
    “Sir?”
    “Oh, never mind.” Vimes yawned. “Well, we shall miss you, Willikins.” Others may not, he thought. Especially if they have time for a second shot.
    “Oh, Lord Venturi says it’ll all be over by Hogswatch, sir.”
    “Really? I didn’t know it had started.”

    Vimes ran down the stairs and into a smell of curry.
    “We saved you some, sir,” said Sergeant Colon. “You was asleep when the lad brought it round.”
    “It was Goriff’s kid,” said Nobby, chasing a bit of rice around his tin plate. “Enough for half the shift.”
    “The rewards of duty,” said Vimes, hurrying toward the door.
    “Bread and mango pickle and everything,” said Colon happily. “I’ve always said old Goriff isn’t that bad for a rag’ead.”
    A pool of sizzling oil …Vimes stopped at the door. The family, huddling together …He took out his watch. It was twenty past ten. If he ran—
    “Fred, could you just step up to my office?” he said. “It won’t take a moment.”
    “Right, sir.”
    Vimes ushered the sergeant up the stairs and closed the door.
    Nobby and the other watchmen strained to listen, but there was no sound except for a low murmuring which went on for some time.
    The door opened again. Vimes came down the stairs.
    “Nobby, come up to the University in five minutes, will you? I want to stay in touch and I’m damned if I’m taking a pigeon with this uniform on.”
    “Right, sir.”
    Vimes left.
    A few moments later Sergeant Colon walked carefully down to the main office. He had a slightly glassy look and walked back to his desk with the nonchalance that only the extremely worried try to achieve. He toyed with some paper for a while and then said:
    “You don’t mind what people call you , do you, Nobby?”
    “I’d be minding the whole time if I minded that, sarge,” said Corporal Nobbs cheerfully.
    “Right. Right! And I don’t mind what people call me , neither.” Colon scratched his head. “Don’t make sense, really. I reckon Sir Sam is missing too much sleep.”
    “He’s a very busy man, Fred.”
    “Trying to do everything, that’s his trouble. And…Nobby?”
    “Yes?”
    “It’s Sergeant Colon, thanks.”

    There was sherry. There was always sherry at these occasions. Sam Vimes could regard it dispassionately, since he always drank fruit juice these days. He’d heard they made sherry by letting wine go rotten. He couldn’t see the point of sherry.
    “And you will try to look dignified, won’t you?” said Lady Sybil, adjusting his cloak.
    “Yes, dear.”
    “What will you try to look?”
    “Dignified, dear.”
    “And please try to be diplomatic.”
    “Yes, dear.”
    “What will you try to be?”
    “Diplomatic, dear.”
    “You’re using your ‘henpecked’ voice, Sam.”
    “Yes, dear.”
    “You know that’s not fair.”
    “No, dear.” Vimes raised a hand in a theatrical gesture of submission. “All right, all right . It’s just these feathers. And these tights.” He winced and tried to do some surreptitious rearranging in an effort to prevent himself becoming the city’s first hunchgroin. “I mean, supposing people see me?”
    “Of course they’ll see you, Sam. You’re leading the procession. And I’m very proud of you.”
    She brushed some lint off his shoulder. *
    Feathers in my hat, Vimes thought glumly. And fancy tights. And a shiny breastplate. A breastplate shouldn’t be shiny. It should be too dented to take a decent polish. And diplomatic talk?