"When Mister Safety Catch Is Not On, Mister Crossbow Is Not Your Friend."
Ridcully ducked as a stuffed badger, the origin of which was never ascertained, flew across the lawn and smashed through a window.
“Twenty-five dollars or I walk out the door,” he said. It was probably a phrase never ever said before by any prisoner anywhere on any world.
“Want some breakfast? There’s kidneys.” This time it was Vimes’s smile that drained. “Lamb” the doctor added.
His glare ran from face to face, causing most of the squad to do an immediate impression of the Floorboard and Ceiling Inspectors Synchronized Observation Team.
'Is that Narrative Causality or Historical Imperative or just plain weird?'
'I'm not a criminal madman,' said Vimes.
'Never mind, you'll soon fit in,' said Lawn.
'Taxation is just a sophisticated way of demanding money with menaces.'
'I *could* tell you.' Havelock smiled again. 'But then I would have to find someone to pay me to kill you.'
'No! Please! I'll tell you whatever you want to know!' the man yelled.
'Really?' said Vimes. 'What's the orbital velocity of the moon?'
If Ankh-Morpork had a grid, there would have been a gridlock. Since it did not it was, in the words of Sergeant Colon, 'a case of no one being able to move because of everyone else'. Admittedly, this phrase, while accurate, did not have the same snap.
'You can take our lives but you'll never take our freedom!' he screamed.
Carcer's men looked at one another, puzzled by what sounded like the most badly thought-out war cry in the history of the universe.
