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October 30 - November 2, 2022
William wrote this down. It was a puzzle why things were always dragged kicking and screaming. No one ever seemed to want to, for example, lead them gently by the hand.
Right? Weird.
It has to be added that when one says “they thought” it means “Mr. Pin thought.” Mr. Tulip used his head all the time, from a distance of about eight inches, but he was not, except in one or two unexpected areas, a man given much to using his brain. On the whole, he left Mr. Pin to do the polysyllabic cogitation. Mr. Pin, on the other hand, was not very good at sustained, mindless violence, and admired the fact that Mr. Tulip had an apparently bottomless supply. When they had first met, and had recognized in each other the qualities that would make their partnership greater than the sum of its
...more
This is all very Pet Shop Boys, innit?
“You didn’t tell me about the dwarfs!”
He absolutely did.
“It’s just my news sheet,” said William. “But bigger. Er . . . people like to know things.” “Which people?” “Well . . . everyone, really.” “Do they? Did they tell you this?”
Yes, they did, when they paid 20p each for it.
William wondered why he always disliked people who said “no offense meant.” Maybe it was because they found it easier to say “no offense meant” than actually to refrain from giving offense.
Right? I need to be more careful about this.
“And you’ll let me see what you’ve written?” “Of course. I’ll make sure you get one of the first papers off the press, sir.” “I meant before it gets published, and you know it.” “To tell you the truth, no, I don’t think I should do that, sir.” “I am the commander of the Watch, lad.” “Yes, sir. And I’m not. I think that’s my point, really, although I’ll work on it some more.”
William finding his feet.
rumyou a really good dressbling of
“‘The Truth Shall Make Ye Fret’?”
Not that I don't enjoy all the ways the motto comes out wrong, but if this appears in the paper every day, why haven't they just made a single large block of the header?
“Find out who’s running the book, and when you have found out that it is Nobby, take it off him.”
Hah!
“That —ing zombie is going to end up on the end of a couple of —ing handy and versatile kebab skewers,” said Mr. Tulip. “An’ then I’m gonna put an edge on this —ing spatula. An’ then . . . then I’m gonna get medieval on his arse.” There were more pressing problems, but this one intrigued Mr. Pin. “How, exactly?” he said. “I thought maybe a maypole,” said Mr. Tulip reflectively. “An’ then a display of country dancing, land tillage under the three-field system, several plagues, and, if my —ing hand ain’t too tired, the invention of the —ing horse collar.”
Nice to have someone finally explain that phrase.
Spit or swallow, he thought, the eternal conundrum.
Hmmm...not the sort of joke one expects from Pratchett.
“Is this the bit where my whole life passes in front of my eyes?” he said. NO, THAT WAS THE BIT JUST NOW. “Which bit?” THE BIT, said Death, BETWEEN YOU BEING BORN AND YOU DYING.
Ah.
