‘But Doctor Lawn is still here,’ Rincewind volunteered. ‘He makes a living outof sticking his hand in things. He’s got the knack.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said the referee. ‘Perhaps we can impose upon him to take anotherpatient.’ He turned to Ridcully. ‘You must play your other substitute.’

‘That would be Trevor Likely,’ said the Archchancellor.

‘No!’ blurted out Trev. ‘I promised my ol’ mum.’

‘I thought you were part of the team?’ said Ridcully.

‘Well, yes, sir, sort of… helpin’ out and all that… I promised my ol’ mum, sir,after Dad died. I know I was down on the list, but who would have thought itwould have turned out like this?’

Ridcully stared at the sky. ‘Well, it seems to me, gentlemen, that we cannotask a man to break a promise made to an old mum. That would be a crime moreheinous than murder. We will have to play with ten men. It appears that we willhave to go without.’

Up in his ramshackle box, the editor of the Times picked up his notebook andsaid, ‘I’m going down there. It’s ridiculous to sit up here like this.’

‘You’re going on the pitch, sir?’

‘Yes. At least that way I can see what’s happening.’

‘I don’t think the referee will allow that, sir!’

‘You’re not going to play, Trev?’ said Glenda.

‘I told you! How many times do I need to tell people? I promised my ol’ mum!’

‘But you are part of the team, Trev.’

‘I promised my ol’ mum!’

‘Yes, but I am sure she’d understand.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. We’ll never know, will we?’

‘Not necessarily,’ said a voice cheerfully.

‘Oh, hello, Doctor Hix,’ said Glenda.

‘I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and if Mister Likely could tellme where his mother is buried, and the referee was to give us a little leewayin regard to time, well it could be possible that I—’

‘Don’t you put a shovel anywhere near my ol’ mum!’ Trev screamed, tears rollingdown his face.

‘I’m sure we all understand, Trev,’ said Glenda. ‘It’s always difficult withold mums,’ and she added, not really thinking what she was saying, ‘and I thinkJuliet will understand.’

She took him by the hand and towed him off the pitch. Trev had been right. Itwas all going wrong. The buoyant certainties of the beginning of the game werefading.

‘You gave away a goal, sir,’ said Ponder as he and Ridcully lined up for thenext encounter.

‘I have great faith in Mister Nutt in goal,’ said Ridcully. ‘And I’ll show themwhat happens to people who try to poison a wizard.’

The whistle blew.

‘GET DOWN AND GIVE ME TWENTY! I’m sorry, gentlemen, I don’t quite know why Isaid that… ’

What happens to people who try to poison a wizard, at least in the short run,is that they have an advantage in a game of football. The absence of ProfessorMacarona was a deadly blow. He had been the pillar around which the universitystrategy had been built. Emboldened, United went for the kill.

Even so, the editor of the Times thought, as he lay down at the very edge ofthe pitch alongside his iconographer, the wizards were just about managing tohold their own. He scribbled as fast as he could, trying hard to ignore thegentle shower of pie wrappings, banana skins, empty greasy pea bags and theoccasional beer bottle being tossed on to the pitch. And who is that with theball now? He glanced at the little crib-sheet of numbers he had managed to jotdown. Ah, right. United had broken into the UU side of the field and there wasAndy Shank, an unpleasant man by all accounts and… surely that wasn’t a normalfootballing procedure. Other players had lined up around him. So he was runningin the middle of a group of bodyguards. Even the other team members themselvesdid not seem to know what was going on, but Mr Shack nevertheless managed acreditable strike at the goal, which was expertly snatched out of the air by…Mister Nutt. He glanced at his crib-sheet, ah yes, the orc, and added in hisnotebook: ‘who is clearly adept at grasping big round objects’. But then hefelt ashamed and crossed it out. Despite where we are lying, he said tohimself, we are not the gutter press.

The orc.

Nutt danced back and forth outside his goal, trying to find someone who lookedin a position to be able to do something with a ball.

‘Can’t hang around all day, Orc,’ said Andy, staying in front of him. ‘Got tolet it go soon, Orc. Not much help for you now, is there, Orc? They say you’vegot claws. Show us your claws, Orc. That will bust your ball.’

‘I believe that you are a man with unresolved issues, sir.’

‘What?’

Nutt dropkicked the ball over Andy’s head and somewhere in the mob that foughtfor it there was a crunch, which was followed by a yell, which was followed bythe whistle and the whistle was followed by the chant. It began somewhere inthe region of Mrs Atkinson, but spread oh so quickly: ‘Orc! Orc! Orc! Orc! Orc!Orc! Orc!’

Ridcully got to his feet, standing unsteadily. ‘The buggers have got me,Henry,’ he yelled, in a voice that could hardly be heard over the chant.‘Kneecap! Bloody kneecap!’

‘Who did it?’ the referee demanded.

‘How should I know? It’s a bloody mess, just like the old game! And can’t youget them to stop that bloody chant? That’s not the sort of thing we want tohear.’

Archchancellor Henry raised his megaphone. ‘Mister Hoggett?’

The captain of United pushed his way through the rabble, looking very sheepish.

‘Can’t you control your fans?’

Hoggett shrugged. ‘Sorry about that, sir, but what can you do?’

Henry looked around the Hippo. What could anyone do? It was the mob. The Shove.No one was in charge. It hadn’t an arse to kick, a wrist to be slapped or evenan address. It was just there and it was shouting because everybody else was.

‘Well, then can you at least control your team?’ he said. To his surprise MrHoggett looked down.

‘Not entirely, sir. Sorry about that, sir, it’s how things are.’

‘One more incident of this kind and I will cancel the match. I suggest youleave the field of play, Mustrum. Who is the substitute captain?’

‘Me!’ said Ridcully, ‘but under the circumstances I appoint Mister Nobbs as mydeputy.’

‘Not Nobby Nobbs?’ exclaimed the former Dean.

‘No relation,’ said Bledlow Nobbs very quickly.

‘Well, that was a good choice at least,’ said Trev, sighing. ‘Nobbsy is aclogger at heart.’

‘But it’s not supposed to be about clogging,’ said Glenda. ‘And you know what?’she added, raising her voice against the steel roar of the crowd. ‘Whatever theold Dean thinks he can’t stop the game, now. This place would just blow up!’

‘You think so?’ said Trev.

‘Listen,’ said Glenda. ‘Yes, I think you’re right. You ought to get out ofhere.’

‘Me? Not a chance.’

‘But you could make yourself useful and get Juliet out. Get her as far asVimesy and his lot. I bet they’re waiting right outside the gates. Do it rightnow while you can still get down the steps. Won’t get a chance once they startto play again.’

As he left, Glenda walked unheeded down the touchline, to the little area whereDr Lawn was standing guard over his patients.

‘You know that little bag you brought with you, sir?’

‘Yes?’

‘I think you’re going to need a bigger bag. How’s Professor Macarona?’

The professor was lying on his back, staring at the sky and wearing anexpression of bland happiness. ‘Sorted him out easily enough,’ said the doctor.‘He won’t be playing again any time soon. I’ve given him a little something tomake him happy. Correction, I have given him a big something to make himhappy.’

‘And the Librarian?’

‘Well, I got a couple of lads to help me turn him upside down and he’s beenthrowing up a lot. He’s still pretty groggy, but I don’t think it’s too bad.He’s as sick as a parrot.’[24]