Palace Rectangular
Last night Lord Vetinari hosted a glittering masked ball whereat
a multitude of the disk's most illustrious citizens were
entertained most royally. Our reporter was unable to secure a
guest-list as, apparently, it is required for further action.
Music was performed by a most seemly quartet as guests arrived for cock-tails1. A genuine Genuan troupe played for dancing at the end of the evening.
A few intruders failed to spoil the evening and were ejected by the City Watch.
The prize for the best mask at the ball was awarded to Mistress Mary Blundell who stitched it herself. The seamstress' guild can be proud of her.
[1] The rest of the cocks were served at dinner in a cheese sauce.
Agatean Empire Win - (tight)
Circle Cities - washout
by Graham Higgins
Unwittngly miss Thog's Master Class, (expletive in development), while chewing pencil in the Sniper's Gallery, trying to think of something to write.
Delayed on way to Maskerade making a mask for Isobel Pearson, (ah there, you see, there was no contest). All cannot be as chaotic as it may feel when such underlying symmetries manifest themselves. Arriving late at the door to the Maskerade, a mysterious feathere figure bars my way, lounging in an armchair at the entrance. 'You can't go in once the Maskerade's started' it intones, giving it some laconic, evidently glad of an audience of at least one old geezer. How civilised it would be in the real world if door security was maintained by the use of dubious fashion statements.
went.... SPLITSPLAT! as expected. No-one seemed to mind. Crowds. What possessed them? We all proved we'd once been kids. Tomorrow? Somebody think of something - see you there daredevils.
Then caught Paul Kidby. He was worried about the silences. We were putti in his hands. If we could storm Centre Parcs and take it over as a running Convention, what a very interesting village to live in that would be. Already I begin to feel the imminence of ejection into Grit Street and the diurnal round.
Stop Press: Today's Charity Auction - raised ..... £1028-20p (so far)
Four teams entered the Leonard of Quirm great egg race with the AFP team winning at 0.7 seconds with their entry TSBOAFP™. The object of the game was to safely transort "Lord Philanthropic III of Quirm" and without him touching the floor. The 'vehicles' were constructed from items bought, stolen and borrowed. Oddly enough, there were no eggs involved!
Ridcully casts his salesman spell to pull in the bids for a host
of items . Here the "Thaumagotchi" goes under the hammer
(though not literally, you understand). The total amount raised at the
auction was £4185 Another £748 represents the proceeds from
the Maskerade Dinner.
It's 5:45am on Monday Morning. We're sitting with a cup of tea with our feet in a bath of warm water during one of our rare off duty moments.... OK, so rare isn't the right word - a Gopher can do as much or as little work as they want to, or can fit into one weekend - but the rest is absoloutely true....
The first Gophering point we want to make is that it's a helluva lot of fun (Would we lie to you? Oh alright, we might bend the truth a little when trying to sell you something, but otherwise....).
Basically a gopher helps out by fetching and carrying, selling, waving 'Chronicle Live's at people and generally doing what people want - within reason. There are Specialist Gophers, but they're too clever for us.
The Second Point is that people appreciate us! We don't know about you, but this was a novel experience for us!
But its not all hard work - Gophers can choose what they do - they don't have to be on duty all the time and can't be drafted if they don't want to be. We got to do other things, (such as late night foot massages by complete strangers, (You know who you are, even if we don't), but that's another story.....).
So if you come to the next Convention, Go For It! Be a Gopher.
Oh, and one final point...... All Hail Ben - King of the Gophers!
The winner of the 'Luggage Wars', was Andrew Langhammer
of Rising Star Enterprises with 'Have a Nice Day', the veteran
robot of the Intuition Easter Con '98. Congratulations. (He also
built 'The Bonzer Basher with Working Chomp'). Claire-Louise
appeared rather put out by the news of The Comittee's Entry's
Defeat.
by Diane Duane
Now the word came to the Kingdom that the son of the greatest and most powerful King in those parts was passing through on a Progress, and that he needed a place to stay, because the rack rate at the local hotel was terrible, and if you are a Royal Person they will not let you have the corporate rate, no matter how much you may call yourself "the Firm". So the King and Queen said yes, of course, and the King went off to see if the guest room bed had been made, and the Queen went to check the guest bathroom to make sure that none of the cats had left dead mice in the tub again.
And the day appointed came, and everyone in the kingdom was very excited. The Queen was concerned, though, because she had not seen a lot of her daughter since the news about the Prince arrived. And when the news came that the Prince's coach was coming, the Princess was nowhere to be found. The Queen sighed, and went down to the front steps of the palace to meet the coach with her husband. All the people from all around were there, dressed in their Tuesday best, and the coach rolled up. The Prince's footmen jumped down and blew a great blast on their sackbuts, and the coach door swung open, and the Prince got out. He was richly dressed in gold and silver brocade, and he was about six feet tall, and he had the head of a duck.
Eveyone gasped. Then out of the crowd came a young woman who threw back the hood of her cloak and stepped forward with a happy ducky smile. "What kept you?" said the Princess, and took the Prince by the hand to show him the way to the guest bedroom.
The Queen went off to make herself a bacon sandwich expressive of perfect joy. The Prince and Princess naturally got on with living happily ever after.
And the Fairy Viagra leaned over the King's shoulder and whispered, "Next time, dummy, follow the package instructions."
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