‘Oh, come now, Sam,’ said Ridcully. ‘It’s only a jolly day out.’

‘People are queueing up at the gates,’ said Vimes. ‘The actual city gates. How much of this is magical?’

‘None, Sam, as far as we’re aware. There will be no magic used during the game, this has been discussed and agreed and the D—’ Ridcully swallowed hard. ‘The Archchancellor of Brazeneck University is making himself responsible for thaumic damping of the stadium.’

‘Then let me tell you this,’ said the commander. ‘None of my men will set a foot on the field of play, no matter what happens. Do I make myself clear?’

‘As crystal, Sam.’

‘Sorry, Archchancellor, for now I am Commander of the City Watch, not Sam, if it’s all the same to you,’ said Vimes. ‘The whole damn city is an accident waiting to—no, an accident that already has happened and anything that goes bad will get worse very quickly. I’m not going to have it said that the Watch were the problem. Honestly, Mustrum, I really would have expected better from you.’

‘That will be Archchancellor,’ said Ridcully coldly.

‘As far as I’m concerned,’ said Vimes, ‘this is a scuffle between rival gangs. Do you know what my job is, Archchancellor? It’s to keep the peace, and for two pins, I’d arrest the whole boiling of ya, but his lordship won’t have it.’

Ridcully coughed. ‘May I extend my congratulations, sir, on the very good work you have been doing in Koom Valley.’

‘Thank you,’ said Vimes. ‘And so I suspect you can imagine how cheerful I am to see you involved in another kind of war.’ The commander turned to Archchancellor Henry. ‘Nice to see you again, sir[20], it’s good to see that you’ve moved up in the world. I’m formally telling you that I am laying down the law, here, and as the referee, you have to pick it up. Inside these lines it’s football–step over the line and it’s me.’ He turned back to Ridcully. ‘Mind how you go, Archchancellor.’

He departed, watchmen falling into place behind him.

‘Well, now, I suspect the good commander has a lot on his mind these days,’ said Archchancellor Henry, brightly. He pulled out his watch. ‘I would like to speak to the team captains.’

‘Well, I know I’m one of them,’ said Ridcully.

A man stepped forward from the ranks of United.

‘Joseph Hoggett, of the Pork Packers, as it happens. Captain, for my sins.’

Hoggett held out his hand to Ridcully and, to his credit, hardly winced when it was taken in a firm handshake.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ said the former Dean. ‘I am sure you know the rules, we’ve been through them often enough. I want a good clean game. One long, er, peep from my whistle means that I am interrupting play for an infringement or injury or for some other reason at that point known only to myself. One even longer peep, which I suppose will be more of a parrp, will mean the end of one half and time for refreshment, after which the game will recommence. During the interval, I believe that there will be a marching display by the Ankh-Morpork accordion band, but I suppose these things are sent to try us. May I remind you gentlemen that you change ends at the half-time. Also, please impress on your team that the goal they are aiming for should not be behind them. If I see any serious infringement, that player will be removed from the pitch. A considerably longer parrp, which as far as I am concerned will continue until I am out of breath, will mark the end of the game. May I also remind you, as Commander Vimes has reminded us, that within these four, rather sticky lines of chalk, I am a wielder of power second only to the gods themselves, and then only perhaps. If at any time it becomes clear that the rules themselves are impractical, I will change them. When I blow the whistle, I shall raise my staff and unleash a spell which will prevent any further magic being used within these hallowed lines until the close of play. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr Hoggett.

‘Mustrum?’ said the former Dean, in a meaningful voice.

‘Yes, yes, all right,’ grumbled Ridcully. ‘You are making the most of your little moment, aren’t you? Let’s get on with it, shall we?’

‘Gentlemen, would you please form up your teams for the singing of the National Anthem. Mister Stibbons, I believe you have found me a megaphone, thank you very much.’ He raised the horn to his lips and shouted through it, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, be upstanding for the National Anthem.’

The singing of the National Anthem was always a ragged affair, the good people of Ankh-Morpork feeling that it was unpatriotic to sing songs about how patriotic you were, taking the view that someone singing a song about how patriotic they were was either up to something or a Head of State[21].

An additional problem today lay in the acoustics of the arena, which were rather too good, coupled with the fact that the speed of sound at one end of the stadium was slightly off beat compared with the other end, a drawback exacerbated when both sides tried to recover the gap.

These acoustical anomalies did not count for much if you were standing next to Mustrum Ridcully, as the Archchancellor was one of those gentlemen who will sing it beautifully, correctly enunciated and very, very loudly.

‘“When dragons belch and hippos flee, my thoughts, Ankh-Morpork, are of thee,”’ he began.

Trev noticed, to his surprise, that Nutt was standing stiffly to attention. His own mouth operating on automatic, he looked along the massed rank of Ankh-Morpork United. About fifty-fifty, he thought. Half of them decent old cloggers and half of them Andy and his chums. His gaze lighted on Andy just as he thought that and Andy flashed him a little smile and pointed a finger briefly. But I’m not playing, Trev thought, because of my old mum. He glanced down at the palm of his hand, no star there, he was sure of that. Anyway, he thought, staring at the opponents, when it all goes bad the referee is a wizard, after all.

‘“Let others boast of martial dash, for we have boldly fought with cash,”’ roared the crowd at various pitches and speeds.

I mean, Trev thought, he wouldn’t switch off his own magic, would he?

‘“We own all your helmets, we own all your shoes.”’

I mean, he really wouldn’t do that, would he? The only person who could stop it if it all went wrong wouldn’t have made a mistake like that?

‘“We own all your generals–touch us and you’ll lose.”’

Yes, he has done! He has done just that!

‘“Morporkia! Morporkia! Morporkia owns the day,”’ Trev shouted to quell his own rising panic. He has done that, we all saw him! He’s kept his own staff inside the field where you can’t do magic. He looked at Andy and Andy nodded. Yes, he had worked it out as well.

‘“We can rule you wholesale. Touch us and you’ll pay.”’

It is considered in the Sto Plains that only scoundrels know the second verse of their national anthem, since anyone spending time memorizing that would be up to no good purpose. The Ankh-Morpork national anthem, therefore, had a second verse that was deliberately written as ner ner ners and the occasional coherent word desperately trying to stay afloat, on the basis that this is how it would sound in any case. Trev listened to it with even more agony than usual.

But everyone joined in cheerful unison for the last line, which everybody knew, ‘“We can rule you wholesale, credit where it’s due.”’

Glenda, one arm as far across her bosom as it would go, risked a look at what would still probably be called the Royal Box, just as Vetinari raised the gold-ish coloured urn and a cheer went up. Ankh-Morpork was not particularly keen on cheering the Patrician but it would cheer money any day of the week. Yet it seemed to Glenda that there was some strange harmonic to the cheer, coming up from under the ground itself, as if the place was one huge mouth… Then the feeling went away. And the day came back.