Nobody noticed. It was enthralling and exciting at the same time, Ridcullyconcluded. Normally the pointy hat, robe and staff cleared the way faster thana troll with an axe.

They were being pushed! And shoved! But it was not as unpleasant as the wordssuggested. There were moderate pressures on all sides as people poured inbehind, as though the wizards were standing chest deep in the sea, and wereswaying and shifting to the slow rhythm of the tide.

‘My goodness,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘Is this football? It’s abit dull, isn’t it?’

‘Pies were mentioned,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, craning his neck.

‘People are still coming in, guv,’ said Ottomy.

‘But however do we see things?’

‘Depends on the Shove, guv. Usually people near the action shout out.’

‘Ah, I see a pie seller,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. He took acouple of steps forward, there was a random shift and sway in the crowd, and hevanished.

‘How is it now, Mister Trev?’ said Nutt, as people surged around them.

‘Hurts like buggery, excuse my Klatchian,’ muttered Trev, clutching his injuredarm to his coat. ‘Are you sure you weren’t holding a hammer?’

‘No hammer, Mister Trev. I’m sorry, but you did ask me—’

‘I know, I know. Where did you learn to punch like that?’

‘Never learned, Mister Trev. I must never raise my hand to another person! Butyou went on so, and—’

‘I mean, you’re so skinny!’

‘Long bones, Mister Trev, long muscles. I really am very sorry!’

‘My fault, Gobbo, I didn’t know your own strength—’ Suddenly Trev shot forward,cannoning into Nutt.

‘Where’ve you been, my man?’ said the person who had just slapped him hard onthe back. ‘We said to meet at the eel-pie stall!’

Now the speaker looked at Nutt and his eyes narrowed. ‘And who’s this strangerwho thinks he’s one of us?’

He did not exactly glare at Nutt, but there was a definite sense of a weighingin the balance, and on unfriendly scales.

Trev brushed himself off, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. ‘Hi, Andy.Er, this is Nutt. He works for me.’

‘What as? A bog brush?’ said Andy. There was laughter from the group behindhim. Andy always got a laugh. It was the first thing you noticed, after theglint in his eye.

‘Andy’s dad is captain of Dimwell, Gobbo.’

‘Pleased to meet you, sir,’ said Nutt, extending a hand.

‘Ooo, pleased to meet you, sir,’ Andy mimicked, and Trev grimaced as acalloused hand the size of a plate grasped Nutt’s cheese-straw fingers.

‘He’s got hands like a girl,’ Andy observed, taking a grip.

‘Mister Trev has been telling me wonderful things about the Dimmers, sir,’ saidNutt. Andy grunted. Trev saw his knuckles whiten with effort while Nuttchattered. ‘The camaraderie of the sport must be a wonderful thing.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Andy grunted, finally managing to pull his hand away, his facefull of angry puzzlement.

‘And this is my mate, Maxie,’ said Trev quickly, ‘and this is Carter theFarter—’

‘It’s Fartmeister now,’ said Carter.

‘Yeah, right. And this is Jumbo. You want to watch out for him. He’s a thief.Jumbo can pick a lock faster than you can pick your nose.’

The said Jumbo held up a small bronze badge. ‘Guild, of course,’ he said. ‘Theynail your ears to the door else.’

‘You mean you break the law for a living?’ said Nutt, horrified.

‘Ain’t you ever heard of the Thieves’ Guild?’ said Andy.

‘Gobbo’s new,’ said Trev protectively. ‘Hasn’t got out much. He’s a goblin,from the high country.’

‘Coming down here, taking our jobs, yeah?’ said Carter.

‘Like, how often do you do a hand’s turn?’ said Trev.

‘Well, I might want to one day.’

‘Milking the cows when they come home?’ said Andy. This got another laugh, oncue. And that was the introductions sorted out, to Nutt’s surprise. He’d beenexpecting chicken theft to be mentioned. Instead, Carter pulled a couple of tincans out of a pocket and tossed them to Nutt and Trev.

‘Did a few hours’ unloading down the docks, didn’t I?’ he said defensively, asthough a bit of casual labour was some kind of offence. ‘This come off a boatfrom Fourecks.’

Jumbo fished in his pocket again and pulled out someone else’s watch.

‘Game on in five minutes,’ he declared. ‘Let’s shove… er, if that’s all rightwith you, Andy?’

Andy nodded. Jumbo looked relieved. It was always important that things wereall right with Andy. And Andy was still watching Nutt as a cat watches anunexpectedly cheeky mouse, while massaging his hand.

Mr Ottomy cleared his throat, causing his red Adam’s apple to bob up and downlike an indecisive sunset. Shouting in public, yes, he liked that, he was goodat that. Speaking in public, now, that was a different kettle of humiliation.

‘Well, er, gents, what we will have here is your actual football, what isbasically about the Shove, which is what you gentlemen will be doing soon—’

‘I thought we watched two groups of players vie with one another to get theball in the opponents’ goal?’

‘Could be, sir, could very much be,’ the bledlow conceded, ‘but in the streets,see, your actual supporters on both sides try and endeavour to shorten thelength of the field, as it were, depending on the flow of play, so to speak.’

‘Like living walls, d’y’mean?’ said Ridcully.

‘That style of thing, sir, yes, sir,’ said Ottomy loyally.

‘What about the goals?’

‘Oh, they’re allowed to move the goals, too.’

‘Sorry?’ said Ponder. ‘The spectators can move the goals?’

‘You have put your finger firmly on it, sir.’

‘But that’s sheer anarchy! It’s a mess!’

‘Some of the old boys do say the game has gone downhill, sir, that is true.’

‘Downhill, into and out through the bottom of the world, I’d say.’

‘Good one to play with magic, though,’ said Dr Hix. ‘Well worth a try.’

‘A word to the wise, sir,’ said Ottomy with unwitting accuracy, ‘but you’d bewearing your guts for garters if you tried it with some of the types who playthese days. They take it seriously.’

‘Mister Ottomy, I’m sure none of my blokes wear garters—’ Ridcully stopped andlistened to Ponder Stibbons’s whispered interjection and continued, ‘well,possibly one, two at most, and it would be a very dull world if we were all thesame, that’s what I say.’ He looked around and shrugged. ‘So, this isfootball, is it? Rather a wizened shell of a game, yes? I, for one, don’t wantto stand around all day in the rain while other people have all the fun. Let’sgo and find the ball, gentlemen. We are wizards. That must count forsomething.’

‘I thought we were blokes now,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

‘Same thing,’ said Ridcully, straining to see over the heads of the crowd.

‘Surely not!’

‘Well,’ said Ridcully, ‘isn’t a bloke someone who likes drinking with his matesand without the company of women? Anyway, I’m fed up with this. Form up behindme, nevertheless. We’re going to see some football.’

The progress of the wizards astonished Ottomy and Nobbs, who had hitherto seenthem as fluffy plump creatures quite divorced from real life. But to get to bea senior wizard and stay there called for deep reserves of determination,viciousness and the sugared arrogance that is the mark of every true gentleman,as in ‘Oh, was that your foot? I’m so terribly sorry.’

And, of course, there was Dr Hix, a good man to have in a tight spot because hewas (by college statute) an officially bad person, in accordance with UU’shappy grasp of the inevitable[8].

A less mature organization than UU might have taken the view that the wayforward would be to hunt such renegades down, at great risk and expense. UU, onthe other hand, had given Hix and his team a department and a budget and acareer structure, and also the chance to go out into dark caves occasionallyand throw fireballs at unofficial evil wizards; it all worked rather well solong as nobody pointed out that the Department of Post-Mortem Communicationswas really, when you got right down to it, just a politer form of necromancy,wasn’t it?