Unseen Academicals

part of the game. Regrettably, so do the supporters’ clubs.’
    ‘What is the nature of this problem?’ Ridcully enquired.
    ‘They hit one another over the head with them. It would be true to say that brawling and mindless violence, such as occurred yesterday afternoon, is one of the cornerstones of the sport.’
    ‘A far cry from its ancient beginnings, then,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, shaking his head.
    ‘Well, yes. I understand that in those days the losing team was throttled. However, I suppose this would be called mindful violence that took place with the enthusiastic consent of the entire community, or at least that part of it that was still capable of breath. Fortunately, we do not yet have supporters, so that this is not at present our problem, and I propose we go directly to the pies.’
    There was a chorus of general agreement from the wizards. Food was their cup of tea, and if possible slice of cake too. Some of them were already watching the door in anticipation of the tea trolley. It seemed like an age since nine.
    ‘Central to the game is the pie,’ Ponder went on, ‘which is generally of shortcrust pastry containing appropriate pie-like substances. I collected half a dozen and tested them on the usual subjects.’
    ‘The students?’ said Ridcully.
    ‘Yes. They said they were pretty awful. Not a patch on the pies here, they said. They finished them off, however. Examination of the ingredients suggests that they consisted of gravy, fat and salt, and insofar as it was possible to tell, none of the students appears to have died…’
    ‘So we are ahead on pies, then,’ said Ridcully cheerfully.
    ‘I suppose so, Archchancellor, although I do not believe that the pie quality plays any role—’ He stopped, because the door had swung open to allow the ingress of a reinforced, heavy-duty tea trolley. Since it was not being propelled by Her, the wizards paid no further attention and settled down to the passing of cups, the handing round of the sugar bowl, the inspection of the quality of the chocolate biscuits with a view to taking more than one’s entitlement and all the other little diversions without which a committee would be a clever device for making worthwhile decisions quickly.
    When the rattling had ceased, and the last biscuit had been fought for, Ridcully tinkled his teaspoon on the rim of his cup for silence, although since he was Ridcully this only added the crash of broken crockery to the hubbub. Once the girl in charge of the trolley had sponged everybody down, he continued: ‘The chanting, gentlemen, appears to be another inconsequentiality at first sight, but I have reason to believe that it has a certain power, and we will ignore it at our peril. I see the museum’s translators say the modern chants were originally hymns to the goddess calling on her to grant her favours to the team of choice, while naiads danced on the edges of the field of play, the better to encourage the players to greater feats of prowess.’
    ‘Naiads?’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘They’re water nymphs, aren’t they? Young women with very thin damp clothing? Why would anyone want them around? Besides, didn’t they drown sailors by singing to them?’
    Ridcully let the thoughtful pause hang in the air for a while before volunteering: ‘Fortunately, I don’t think anyone these days would expect that we play football underwater.’
    ‘The pies would float,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.
    ‘Not necessarily,’ said Ponder.
    ‘What about clothing, Mister Stibbons? I assume there will be some?’
    ‘Temperatures were somewhat warmer in olden days. I can assure you that no one will insist on nudity.’
    Ponder might have noticed the rattle as the girl with the tea trolley almost dropped a cup, but was gracious enough not to notice that he had noticed. He went on. ‘Currently the teams wear old shirts and short trousers.’
    ‘How short?’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, urgency in his voice.
    ‘About mid-knee, I believe,’ said Ponder. ‘Is this likely to be a problem?’
    ‘Yes, it is. The knees should be covered. It is a well-known fact that a glimpse of the male knee can drive women into a frenzy of libidinousness.’ There was another rattle from the tea trolley, but Ponder ignored it because his own head had rattled a bit, too.
    ‘Are you sure about that, sir?’
    ‘It is established fact, young Stibbons.’
    Ponder had found a grey hair on