Unseen Academicals

saying, ‘Did he really say that?’ and then someone high in the stands started to clap, at first slowly and then at an accelerating tempo, as it reached the crowd’s tipping point, when not clapping would be unthinkable. Ceasing to clap was also unthinkable and within a minute the applause was a storm.
    Nutt turned back to the rest of the team with tears streaming down his face. ‘Do I have worth?’ he said to Glenda.
    She ran towards him and hugged him. ‘You always did.’
    ‘Then when the match is over there are things we have to do.’
    ‘But it’s been over for ages,’ said Glenda.
    ‘No, it’s not over until the referee blows his whistle. Everyone knows that.’
    ‘By Io he’s right,’ said Ridcully. ‘Go on, Dean. Give it the works!’
    The Archchancellor of Brazeneck University felt gracious enough to let that one pass. He put the gigantic whistle to his lips, filled his lungs with air and sent the pea rattling. Despite everything, the shade of Evans the Striped had the last word: ‘NO BOY IS TO FIDDLE ABOUT IN THE SHOWERS!’
    As the crowd streamed down from the stands, trampling the now sacred turf, Ridcully tapped a gloomy Mr Hoggett on the shoulder and said, ‘It would be my privilege to change shirts with you, sir.’ He dropped his hat on the ground, pulled off his shirt and revealed a chest so hairy that it looked like two sleeping lions. The United shirt he received in return was somewhat of a tight fit, but that was unimportant because, as Andy had predicted, the Unseen Academicals were indeed picked up by the yelling crowd (except for Mrs Whitlow who fought back) and carried in glory through the city. It was a triumph. Whether you won or lost, it was still a triumph. *

You think it’s all over?

The wizards of Unseen University knew how to party. Pepe and Madame Sharn * were impressed. However, business was business and they had to think about Juliet. ‘I can’t see her anywhere,’ said Madame.
    ‘I think I saw two of her a while ago,’ said Pepe. ‘These fellows do themselves well–I have never seen such a large cheeseboard. It almost makes celibacy seem worthwhile.’
    ‘Oh, do you think so?’
    ‘No. By the way, have you noticed that very tall wizard giving you the eye, my dear?’
    ‘That’s Professor Bengo Macarona. Do you think he—’ Madame began.
    ‘Without a shadow of a doubt, my dear. I know he’s hurt his legs, but I doubt if that would be a problem.’
    Once again, Madame craned to search the crowd for the glittering figure. ‘I do hope our young model is not getting involved in any hanky panky.’
    ‘How could she? She’s totally surrounded by admirers.’
    ‘It’s still possible.’
    In fact, Juliet and Trev were sitting in the darkness of the Night Kitchen. ‘I’ll find somethin’ to do,’ said Trev. ‘I’ll go wherever you go.’
    ‘You ought to stay here and play football,’ said Juliet. ‘You know what some people said when we were drinking? They said Dave Likely was your father.’
    ‘Well, yes, that’s true.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Juliet, ‘but they used to say you were his son.’
    ‘Well, maybe a bit of football,’ Trev conceded, ‘but I don’t think I’ll get away with the tin can again.’
    They kissed.
    There and then, that was all that appeared necessary.
    However…

    Glenda and Nutt had also wanted to find a place a little out of the way and, if possible, dark. Fortuitously she had pulled out of her pocket a pair of tickets, placed there by Dr Hix in his attempt to spread darkness and despondency throughout the world by the means of amateur dramatics, to the Dolly Sisters Players’ production of Starcrossed by Hwel the Playwright. They sat hand in hand, watching it solemnly, feeling the ripples move them, then discussed it as they walked back through the city, carefully skirting the chanting bands of happy, drunken supporters.
    ‘What did you think?’ said Nutt, after a while. ‘About the play, I mean.’
    ‘I don’t see that it was that romantic,’ said Glenda. ‘To be honest, I thought it was a bit silly.’
    ‘It is widely regarded as one of the great romantic plays of the last fifty years,’ said Nutt.
    ‘Really? But what type of example are they setting? First of all, didn’t anyone in Genua, even in those days, know how to take a pulse? Is a little first-aid knowledge too much to expect? Even a hand mirror would have helped and there are quite a number of respectable places where you can take a