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fn25 The moment Moist heard the name he went for the dictionary and was relieved to find that fornacite was a rare lead, copper chromate arsenate hydroxide mineral. The troll was a lovely bluey green colour.

fn26 Humans would have said, ‘Put it where the sun don’t shine.’

fn27 There had been some discussion about the word ‘hygienic’, and Moist had lost. Hygienic, everyone else thought, gave the project a certain tone, a sort of je ne sais quoi. Lady King said this herself and who was going to argue with the Duchess?

fn28 Although in the eyes of her spouse she had always been the Duchess, a pet name he reserved for just her.

fn29 The feared kitten torture was actually one dreamed up by Moist, and Vetinari had been impressed. In the dungeons of the palace there was a large iron maiden, seldom used. In these modern times the kitten torture regime was the punishment that would cause the miscreant to pause before doing anything that would place them in the dungeon again. The mechanism and the kittens were presided over by Cedric: not clever, but grateful for the pay packet every month, and he was very fond of kittens, with which the streets of Ankh-Morpork were overflowing. The kittens would be placed in the iron maiden in large numbers, along with the miscreant who could just about sit. At the bottom was a little hatch, large enough to push through a sizeable saucer of milk. Every time a kitten was in distress and made its distress noticeable, Cedric would open up the maiden and give the victim a whack with his cudgel, the amount of cudgelling being contingent on the state of upset of said kitten. There were some idiots who thought this laughable, but it worked, and after a certain amount of cudgelling visitors were said to be amazed at the general atmosphere of happiness inside the iron maiden, where the purring was so loud it resonated throughout the dungeon.

fn30 A discipline where the hands move in time as well as in space, the exponent twisting space behind his own back whilst doing so.

fn31 All’s mastery of artery-clogging cuisine had made him a number of friends in interesting places – trading sources for sauces had turned out to be very good business practice.

fn32 A dismay shared by many of the journalists, who worried they would get mud on their new shoes and be attacked by pheasants.

fn33 Proctector of the Eight Protectorates and Empress of the Long Thin Debated Piece Hubwards of Sto Kerrig.

fn34 There were in fact two waiting rooms, one for men and families and the other for single ladies; as predicted, Effie was very firm that all aspects of the railway should be clean and wholesome, indeed hygienic, something she was very keen on.

fn35 The caption as it turned out was ‘Let the train take the strain’. It appeared that Mr de Worde and his wife were very impressed with the toilet facilities.

fn36 And when a troll announces, you really are announced at.

fn37 Even Professor Rincewind, who spent most of the journey hiding under his seat in the firm belief that locomotion was exactly the kind of thing that usually led to certain death, conceded that trains could come in very handy when one wanted to get somewhere, or, more importantly, away from somewhere, quickly.

fn38 Which, it has to be noted, included a certain amount of hinterland, as with most city states.

fn39 The jailers couldn’t understand how he’d escaped until they realized they weren’t getting their washing back.

fn40 He knew he couldn’t use that colloquial term around there, of course, but after all, the people of Quirm called the people of Ankh-Morpork sphincters, mostly in fun. Mostly.

fn41 For humans he would have been in too deep. Way too deep.

fn42 An Ankh-Morpork citizen will never yield to the idea that there are other cities at least as good as their own and treat the concept that there could be with humorous disdain. The phrase originated when an Ankh-Morpork citizen was shown an equestrian statue in Pseudopolis and when faced with the beast, said, ‘Maybe it’s a Big Horse I’m Morporkian’, an incident that gave rise to a popular bar room song.

fn43 Which instead of masking the ubiquitous goblin smell merely lent it an extra piquancy.

fn44 Unggue pots, as they were called, had a major and sacred part in goblin society. In Ankh-Morpork sensible goblins were making quasi unggue pots for sale, looking like the real thing, Adora Belle said, but with the magic taken out and the wonderful sparkle left in. However, it helped if you didn’t pay too much attention to what the pots traditionally held …

fn45 There was no point in speculating on what else they could have. Just the thought turned Moist’s stomach.

fn46 Any young goblin is thought of as being a twig.

fn47 Which consists of a troll with a comfortable pannier on either side that can carry up to four people.

fn48 Apart from occasionally going with a few clients down to the Pink PussyCat Club to appear to have a good time and stick money down the garters of the gyrating young ladies, which really was hardly evil at all in the light of early-onset middle age, just rather sad, although extremely enjoyable at the time and a death warrant if Adora Belle ever found out.

fn49 Colon and Nobby had lived a long time in a dangerous occupation and they knew how not to be dead. To wit, by arriving when the bad guys had got away.

fn50 It would be impolite to ask Otto how he got around so quickly. Of course, everybody knew that he was a vampire, but he was a fervent black ribboner and so whatever anybody thought they knew about him, they didn’t talk about it.

fn51 A development that proved fatal to the Brassica Carriage Company, which had elected to construct its engines and tracks to a gauge based on the horse-drawn cabbage delivery carts.

fn52 And yet Harry was still a Titan, a humorous term meaning deep trousers and short fingers, owing to his tendency to look on the disgorging of money in much the same light as root canal surgery delivered by a troll dentist.

fn53 Feeney was privileged. To a goblin, the name is always the name, untouchable and part of the goblin itself.

fn54 Or indeed, the fruits de mer of his labour.


Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy