The Wit And Wisdom Of Discworld

being unexpected.
    ‘What about the show? We can’t just stop! You never stop the show, not even if someone dies!’
    ‘Oh, we have stopped when people died …’
    ‘Yes, but only as long as it took to get the body off-stage!’
    *
    ‘Corporal Nobbs has got some papers to prove he’s a human being.’
    ‘Forged?’
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    † Er. That is to say, they went to bed at the same time as the chickens went to bed, and got up at the same time as the cows got up. Loosely worded sayings can really cause misunderstandings.

 
    HERE’S a werewolf with Pre-Lunar Tension in Ankfe-Morpork. And a dwarf with attitude and a golem who’s begun to think for itself.
    But for Commander Vimes, Head of Ankh-Morpork City Watch, that’s only the start…
    There’s treason in the air.
    A crime has happened.
    He’s not only got to find out whodunit, but howdunit too. He’s not even sure what they dum.
    But as soon as he knows what the questions are, he’s going to want some answers.
    ‘Your sedan chair is outside, sir.’
    It had been a wedding present from the Patrician. Lord Vetinari knew that Vimes loved walking the streets of the city, and so it was very typical of the man that he presented him with something that did not allow him to do so.
    It was waiting outside. The two bearers straightened up expectantly.
    Vimes looked at the front man and motioned with a thumb to the chair’s door. ‘Get in,’ he commanded.
    ‘But sir—’
    ‘It’s a nice morning,’ said Vimes, taking off his coat. ‘I’ll drive myself
    *
    Through werewolf eyes the world was different.
    For one thing, it was in black-and-white. At least, that small part of it which as a human she’d thought of as ‘vision’ was monochrome - but who cared that vision had to take a back seat when smell drove instead, laughing and sticking its arm out of the window and making rude gestures at all the other senses?
    *
    She kept telling herself she had it under control and she did, in a way. She prowled the city on moonlit nights and, okay, there was the occasional chicken, but she always remembered where she’d been and went round next day to shove some money under the door.
    It was hard to be a vegetarian who had to pick bits of meat out of her teeth in the morning.
    It was easy to be a vegetarian by day. It was preventing yourself from becoming a humanitarian at night that took the real effort.
    *
    Vimes has some problems with his imp-driven personal organizer:
    ‘Memo: See Corporal Nobbs re timekeeping; also re Earldom.’
    ‘Got it,’ said the imp. ‘Would you like to be reminded of this at any particular time?’
    ‘I think I’ll write it in my notebook, if you don’t mind,’ said Vimes.
    ‘Oh, well, if you prefer, I can recognize handwriting,’ said the imp proudly. ‘I’m quite advanced.’
    Vimes pulled out his notebook and held it up. ‘Like this?’ he said.
    The imp squinted for a moment. ‘Yep,’ it said. ‘That’s handwriting, sure enough. Curly bits, spiky bits, all joined together. Yep. Handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere.’
    *
    Mr Raddley drew himself up.
    ‘We want to take Father Tubelcek away to bury him,’ he said.
    Detritus turned to Cheery Littlebottom. ‘You done everyt’ing you need?’
    ‘I suppose so …’
    ‘He dead?’
    ‘Oh, yes.’
    ‘He gonna get any better?’
    ‘Better than dead? I doubt it.’
    ‘Okay den you people can take him away’

    The Patrician is taken unwell and receives a visit from horse doctor Doughnut Jimmy.
    ‘Commander Vimes is right. It could be arsenic,’ Cheery said. ‘It looks like arsenic poisoning to me. Look at his colour.’
    ‘Nasty stuff,’ said Doughnut Jimmy. ‘Has he been eating his bedding?’
    ‘All the sheets seem to be here, so I suppose the answer is no.’
    ‘How’s he pissing?’
    ‘Er. The usual way, I assume.’
    ‘Walk him round a bit on the loose rein,’ Doughnut said.
    The Patrician opened his eyes. ‘You are a doctor, aren’t you?’ he said.
    ‘Well, yeah … I have a lot of patients,’ he said.
    ‘Indeed? I have very little,’ said the Patrician.

    ‘Do you remember your father, Nobby?’
    ‘Old Sconner, sir? Not much, sir. Never used to see him much except when the milit’ry police used to come for to drag him outa the attic’
    Vimes waved a hand vaguely. ‘He didn’t … leave you anything? Or anything?’
    ‘Coupla scars, sir. And this trick elbow of mine. It aches sometimes, when the weather changes.