Unseen Academicals

(Bug), D. Maus (Chubb), Magistaludorum (QIS), Octavium (Hons), PHGK (Blit), DMSK, Mack, D. Thau (Bra), Visiting Professor in Chickens (Jahn the Conqueror University (Floor 2, Shrimp Packers Building, Genua)), Primo Octo (Deux), Visiting Professor of Blit/Slood Exchanges (Al Khali), KCbfJ, Reciprocating Professor of Blit Theory (Unki), D. Thau (Unki), Didimus Supremius (Unki), Emeritus Professor in Blit Substrate Determinations (Chubb), Chair of Blit and Music Studies (Quirm College for Young Ladies), oooonnnnnnnly one Professor Bengo Macaroooonaaaah D. Thau (Bug), D. Maus (Chubb), Magistaludorum (QIS), Octavium (Hons), PHGK (Blit), DMSK, Mack, D. Thau (Bra), Visiting Professor in Chickens (Jahn the Conqueror University (Floor 2, Shrimp Packers Building, Genua)), Primo Octo (Deux), Visiting Professor of Blit/Slood Exchanges (Al Khali), KCbfJ, Reciprocating Professor of Blit Theory (Unki), D. Thau (Unki), Didimus Supremius (Unki), Emeritus Professor in Blit Substrate Determinations (Chubb), Chair of Blit and Music Studies (Quirm College for Young Ladies). But wouldn’t he be off-the-side, sir?’
    ‘That would indeed appear to be the complaint of the luckless warriors of United,’ said the editor. ‘They are clustering around the referee and what would I give to be a fly on that wall?’
    ‘There is no wall, sir.’
    ‘It would seem—’ and the editor stopped dead. ‘Who is that?’
    ‘What is that, sir?’
    ‘Look over there at the stands! The upper-class stands, I might add, to which we were not invited.’
    The sun usefully took this opportunity to appear from behind the clouds and the bowl of the Hippo seemed to fill with light.
    ‘That’s the micromail girl, sir,’ said the assistant.
    Even some of the protesting United team were looking up at the stands now. She hurt the eyes, but they were dragged towards it again.
    ‘I’ve got her picture on my bedroom wall,’ said the assistant. ‘Everyone has been looking for her.’ He coughed. ‘They say it doesn’t chafe, you know.’

    Now, all the footballers on the field, bar the unfortunate Charlie Barton, who was having a dizzy spell, were clustered around the referee, who said, ‘I repeat; it was a perfectly acceptable goal. A trifle unkind and showy, perhaps, but nevertheless entirely within the rules. You’ve watched the Unseen lads training. The game moves about. It doesn’t send you a clacks to tell you what’s happening next.’
    A voice a little lower down said, ‘It is an elementary mistake to believe that even the most doughty keeper of the net can single-handedly defend against the full might of the opposing team.’ This was Nutt.
    ‘Mister Nutt, you are not supposed to tell them that sort of thing,’ said Ridcully.
    Mr Hoggett looked downcast. A man betrayed by team, history and expectations. ‘I can see we’ve got a lot to learn,’ he said.
    Trev pulled Nutt off to one side. ‘And this is where it all goes bad,’ he said.
    ‘Oh, come now, Mister Trev. We’re doing very well. Bengo is, anyway.’
    ‘I’m not watching him. I’m watching Andy and Andy is watchin’ Bengo. They’re bidin’ their time. They’re lettin’ the poor old buggers get into a hell of a fix and then they’ll just take over.’
    And then Trev was given a short lesson in why wizards are wizards.
    ‘I have a modest proposal and I wonder if you will hear me out, referee. While we at Unseen University are absolute novices, we have had rather more time to get to grips with the new football than our current opponents have. Therefore, I propose to give them one of our goals,’ said Ridcully.
    ‘You can’t do that, sir!’ said Ponder.
    ‘Why, is it against the rules?’ Ridcully’s tone deepened and became noticeably more pompous. ‘I ask you, are good sportsmanship, fellowship and generosity against the rules, pray?’ By the end of the sentence, his voice was audible nearly to the very back of the stadium.
    ‘Well, of course there is nothing against it, sir. There isn’t a rule stopping you washing your laundry during the middle of the game-and that is because no one would do it.’
    ‘Right. Mister Hoggett? One of our goals is now yours. We are, as it were, level.’
    Hoggett, transfixed, looked around at his fellow players, ‘Well, er, if you insist, sir.’
    ‘Wouldn’t dream of taking no for an answer,’ said Ridcully expansively.
    ‘What in the world made him do that?’ said the editor of the Times , as an exhausted runner