Jingo, Terry David John Pratchett
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Terry David John Pratchett

Jingo

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And finally,” said the Patrician, “the beautiful Beti will do an exotic dance.”

The crowd fell silent.

Then someone at the back said, “How much do we have to pay for her not to?”
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“So perhaps Jabbar tells them when it's wise to charge?” said Vimes brightly.

“It's always wise to charge, offendi,” said Jabbar. He bowed again. “My tent is your tent,” he said.

“It is?” said Vimes.

“My wives are your wives.,.”

Vimes looked panicky. “They are? Really?”
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They're D'regs, sir,” said Carrot. “But – this is all wrong…”

“What do you mean?”

“We're not dead yet.”
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Well, initially,” said Jackson. “That's obvious. But you know what they say, lad. ‘Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life.’ See my point?”
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In fact, men, the general has this to say about ensuring against defeat when outnumbered, out-weaponed and outpositioned. It is…” he turned the page, “‘Don't Have a Battle
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“And when they were thirsty in the desert, sir, the Four Tribes of Khanli were succoured by a sudden and supernatural rain of rain, sir.”

“A rain of rain?” said Vimes, almost mesmerized by Visit's absolute conviction.

“Perfectly normal phenomenon,” sneered Reg Shoe. “Probably water was evaporated from the ocean, was blown through the sky, condensed around nuclei when it ran into cold air, and precipitated…” He stopped, and continued irritably, “Anyway, I don't believe it.”
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“Leonard keeps talking about hieroglyphs,” said Nobby. “What're they, sarge?”

Colon hesitated, but not for long. “A type of mollusc, corporal.”

“Cor, you know everything, sarge,” said Nobby admiringly. “That's what hieroglyphs are, is it? So, if we go any deeper, they'll be loweroglyphs?”

There was something slightly off-putting about Nobby's grin. Sergeant Colon decided to go for broke.

“Don't be daft, Nobby. ‘Loweroglphys if you go lower…’ Oh my me.”

“Sorry, sarge.”

“Everyone knows you don't get loweroglyphs in these waters.”
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“Listen, you don't have an appointment for being assassinated!”

The demon went silent for a moment, and then said:

“You mean it should be on your To Do list?” Its voice was trembling.

“You mean like: ‘To Do: Die’?”

“Look, it's no good taking it out on me just because you're not on the right time line!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Aha, I knew you didn't read the manual!
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And the Patrician was against printing because if people knew too much it would only bother them
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But Carrot really did believe that personal wasn't the same as important. Of course, Vimes believed the same thing. You had to hope that when push came to shove you'd act the right way. But there was something slightly creepy about someone who didnt just believe it, but lived their life by it. It was as unnerving as meeting a really poor priest.

Obviously, it was a consideration that if someone
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“Yessir! I said, ‘It ain't compuls'ry, you just gotta,’ sir.”

“Detritus, I wanted volunteers.”

“'sright, sir. They volunteered all right, I saw to that
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“'sright, sarge,” said Nobby vehemently. “I know no one ever locked their houses down our street.”

“That's what I'm talking about. That's my point.”

“It was 'cos the bastards even used to steal the locks.”

Colon considered the truth of this.

“Yes, but at least it was each other's stuff they were nicking, Nobby. It's not like they was foreigners.”

“Right.”
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“Oh, they've got the same god, sir. Apparently it's over a word in their holy book, sir. The Elharibians say it translates as ‘god’ and the Smalies say it's ‘man’.”

“How can you mix them up?”

“Well, there's only one tiny dot difference in the script, you see. And some people reckon it's only a bit of fly dirt in any case.”

“Centuries of war because a fly crapped in the wrong place?”

“It could have been worse,” said Carrot. “If it had been slightly to the left the word would have been ‘liquorice’.”
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Ankh-Morpork no longer had a fire brigade. The citizens had a rather disturbingly direct way of thinking at times, and it did not take long for people to see the rather obvious flaw in paying a group of people by the number of fires they put out. The penny really dropped shortly after Charcoal Tuesday
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Oh, hello, Littlebottom,” he said. “What now? Don't tell me – someone's set fire to the Klatchian embassy.”

“All right, sir,” said the dwarf. She stood uncertainly in the middle of the alley, looking worried.

“Well?” said Vimes.

“Er… you said—”

With a sinking feeling Vimes remembered that the generic dwarfish skill with iron was matched only by the fumblefingered grasp of irony.

“The Klatchian embassy is really on fire?”
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One of Leonard's saving graces, in a very real sense from Vetinari's point of view, was his strange attention span. It wasn't that he soon got bored with things. He didn't seem to get bored with anything. But since he was interested in everything in the universe all the time the end result tended to
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Sitting or standing around the office were Lord Rust and the others. Vimes never quite understood how the civic leaders were chosen. They just seemed to turn up, like a tack on the sole of your shoe
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“Please! We're just robbers and thieves! We're not bad men!”
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Indeed. Very… civic. As I'm sure you recall. It demonstrates the friendly alliance between the University and the civil government which, I may say, seems to consist of their promising to do anything we ask provided we promise not to ask them to do anything. Anyway, it is your duty. Tradition decrees it. And Lady Sybil has agreed to see to it that you are there with a crisp bright shining morning face.”

Vimes took a deep breath. “You asked my wife
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meant: why don't they like us now? Do we owe them money?”

“No. Mostly they owe us money. Which is, of course, a far better reason for their dislike.”
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