Unseen Academicals

heavily,’ said Ridcully. The comment was unnecessary as the snores were making the goal rattle.
    He crouched down and put his ear to the Librarian’s chest. ‘I don’t think he’s been poisoned,’ he said.
    ‘Why’s that, Archchancellor?’ said Ponder.
    ‘Because if anyone has poisoned our Librarian,’ said Ridcully, ‘then, although I am not, by nature, a vindictive man, I will see to it that this university hunts down the poisoner by every thaumic, mystic and occult means available and makes the rest of their life not only as horrible as they can imagine it, but as horrible as I can imagine it. And you can depend on it, gentlemen, that I have already started work on it.’
    Ponder looked around until he saw Rincewind. ‘Professor Rincewind. You were, I mean you are, his friend, can’t you stick your fingers down his throat or something?’
    ‘Well, no,’ said Rincewind. ‘I am very attached to my fingers and I like to think of them as attached to me.’
    The noise of the crowd was getting louder. They were here to see football, not a debate.
    ‘But Doctor Lawn is still here,’ Rincewind volunteered. ‘He makes a living out of sticking his hand in things. He’s got the knack.’
    ‘Ah, yes,’ said the referee. ‘Perhaps we can impose upon him to take another patient.’ He turned to Ridcully. ‘You must play your other substitute.’
    ‘That would be Trevor Likely,’ said the Archchancellor.
    ‘No!’ blurted out Trev. ‘I promised my ol’ mum.’
    ‘I thought you were part of the team?’ said Ridcully.
    ‘Well, yes, sir, sort of…helpin’ out and all that…I promised my ol’ mum, sir, after Dad died. I know I was down on the list, but who would have thought it would have turned out like this?’
    Ridcully stared at the sky. ‘Well, it seems to me, gentlemen, that we cannot ask a man to break a promise made to an old mum. That would be a crime more heinous than murder. We will have to play with ten men. It appears that we will have to go without.’

    Up in his ramshackle box, the editor of the Times picked up his notebook and said, ‘I’m going down there. It’s ridiculous to sit up here like this.’
    ‘You’re going on the pitch, sir?’
    ‘Yes. At least that way I can see what’s happening.’
    ‘I don’t think the referee will allow that, sir!’

    ‘You’re not going to play, Trev?’ said Glenda.
    ‘I told you! How many times do I need to tell people? I promised my ol’ mum!’
    ‘But you are part of the team, Trev.’
    ‘I promised my ol’ mum!’
    ‘Yes, but I am sure she’d understand.’
    ‘That’s easy for you to say. We’ll never know, will we?’
    ‘Not necessarily,’ said a voice cheerfully.
    ‘Oh, hello, Doctor Hix,’ said Glenda.
    ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and if Mister Likely could tell me where his mother is buried, and the referee was to give us a little leeway in regard to time, well it could be possible that I—’
    ‘Don’t you put a shovel anywhere near my ol’ mum!’ Trev screamed, tears rolling down his face.
    ‘I’m sure we all understand, Trev,’ said Glenda. ‘It’s always difficult with old mums,’ and she added, not really thinking what she was saying, ‘and I think Juliet will understand.’
    She took him by the hand and towed him off the pitch. Trev had been right. It was all going wrong. The buoyant certainties of the beginning of the game were fading.
    ‘You gave away a goal, sir,’ said Ponder as he and Ridcully lined up for the next encounter.
    ‘I have great faith in Mister Nutt in goal,’ said Ridcully. ‘And I’ll show them what happens to people who try to poison a wizard.’
    The whistle blew.
    ‘GET DOWN AND GIVE ME TWENTY! I’m sorry, gentlemen, I don’t quite know why I said that…’

    What happens to people who try to poison a wizard, at least in the short run, is that they have an advantage in a game of football. The absence of Professor Macarona was a deadly blow. He had been the pillar around which the university strategy had been built. Emboldened, United went for the kill.
    Even so, the editor of the Times thought, as he lay down at the very edge of the pitch alongside his iconographer, the wizards were just about managing to hold their own. He scribbled as fast as he could, trying hard to ignore the gentle shower of pie wrappings, banana skins, empty greasy pea bags and the occasional beer bottle being tossed on to the pitch. And who is that with the