Jack Vettriano Private DancerJack Vettriano Portrait in Silver and BlackJack Vettriano pincer Movement
'Dean,' said Ridcully eventually, 'what have you done to your hair? It looks like a spike at the front and a duck's arse, excuse my Klatchian, at the back. And it's all shiny.'
'Lard. That'd be the bacon smell,' said the Lecturer.
'That's true,' said 'What did I just say?' he said.
'Have you been taking dried frog pills, old chap?' said Ridcully.
'Of course not, they're for the mentally unstable!' said the Dean.
'Ah. There's the trouble, then.'
The curtain went up or, rather, was jerkily pulled aside.
The Band With Rocks In blinked in the torchlight.
No‑one clapped. On the other hand, no‑one threwRidcully, 'but what about the floral smell?''mumblemumblemumblelavendermumble,' said the Dean sullenly.'Pardon, Dean?'‘I said it's because I added lavender oil,' said the Dean loudly. 'And some of us happen to think it's a nifty hairstyle, thank you so very much. Your trouble, Archchancellor, is that you don't understand people of our age!''What . . . you mean seven months older than me?' said Ridcully.This time the Dean hesitated.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Piet Mondrian Composition 2
Piet Mondrian Composition 2Steve Thoms PoppiesEdvard Munch Puberty 1894Unknown Artist Heighton After Hours
what it's all about. People join to . . . to . . . with your mind, you know, when you can't . . . things that happened . . .'
FORGET?
'Right. I'm . . .' The man's face went blank. 'Wait a minute, would you?'
He looked down at his sleeve. 'Corporal.. .' he said. He hesitated, looking worried. Then an idea struck him and he pulled at the KLATCHIAN FOREIGN LEGION . . .
'Right. The pay is three dollars a week and all the sand you can eat. I hope you like sand.'
I SEE YOU CAN REMEMBER ABOUT SAND.
'Believe me, you won't ever forget sand,' said the corporal bitterly.collar of his vest and twisted his neck until he could squint, with considerable difficulty, at the label thus revealed.'Corporal . . . Medium? Does that sound right?'I DON'T THINK SO.'Corporal . . . Hand Wash Only?'PROBABLY NOT.'Corporal . . . Cotton?'IT'S A POSSIBILITY.'Right. Well, welcome to the . . . er . . .'
what it's all about. People join to . . . to . . . with your mind, you know, when you can't . . . things that happened . . .'
FORGET?
'Right. I'm . . .' The man's face went blank. 'Wait a minute, would you?'
He looked down at his sleeve. 'Corporal.. .' he said. He hesitated, looking worried. Then an idea struck him and he pulled at the KLATCHIAN FOREIGN LEGION . . .
'Right. The pay is three dollars a week and all the sand you can eat. I hope you like sand.'
I SEE YOU CAN REMEMBER ABOUT SAND.
'Believe me, you won't ever forget sand,' said the corporal bitterly.collar of his vest and twisted his neck until he could squint, with considerable difficulty, at the label thus revealed.'Corporal . . . Medium? Does that sound right?'I DON'T THINK SO.'Corporal . . . Hand Wash Only?'PROBABLY NOT.'Corporal . . . Cotton?'IT'S A POSSIBILITY.'Right. Well, welcome to the . . . er . . .'
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Pino Soft Light
Pino Soft LightPino Long DayPino Desire
fetched some water and cleaned her fur as best he could.
What he did next would have surprised, say, a troll or a dwarf or anyone who didn't know about the human mind's reaction to , see his face in it.
He heard, far off, Fondel's 'Wedding March' scored for Monstrous Organ with Miscellaneous Farmyard Noises accompaniment. He fished out a half bottle of rum from what Sergeant Colon thought was his secure hiding place, poured himself a very small amount, and drank a toast to the sound, saying, 'Here's to Mr Vimes and Lady Ramkin!' in a clear, sincere voice which would have severely embarrassed anyone who had heard it.
There was a scratching at the door. He let Gaspode in. The little dog slunk under the tablestressful circumstances.He wrote his report. He swept the main room's floor; there was a rota, and it was his turn. He had a wash. He changed his shirt, and dressed the wound on his shoulder, and cleaned his armour, rubbing with wire wool and a graded series of cloths until he could, once again
fetched some water and cleaned her fur as best he could.
What he did next would have surprised, say, a troll or a dwarf or anyone who didn't know about the human mind's reaction to , see his face in it.
He heard, far off, Fondel's 'Wedding March' scored for Monstrous Organ with Miscellaneous Farmyard Noises accompaniment. He fished out a half bottle of rum from what Sergeant Colon thought was his secure hiding place, poured himself a very small amount, and drank a toast to the sound, saying, 'Here's to Mr Vimes and Lady Ramkin!' in a clear, sincere voice which would have severely embarrassed anyone who had heard it.
There was a scratching at the door. He let Gaspode in. The little dog slunk under the tablestressful circumstances.He wrote his report. He swept the main room's floor; there was a rota, and it was his turn. He had a wash. He changed his shirt, and dressed the wound on his shoulder, and cleaned his armour, rubbing with wire wool and a graded series of cloths until he could, once again
Monday, May 4, 2009
George Bellows Red Sun
George Bellows Red SunGeorge Bellows Polo CrowdGeorge Bellows Gull Rock and Whitehead
dropped it on the cobbles. It didn't look any better to Angua's lupine eyes.
'What for?' she said.
'Stuffed with nourishin' marrowbone jelly, that bone,' he said accusingly.
'Forget it,' said'That was a good bone,' he said. 'Hardly even started going green. Hah! I bet you wouldn't say no to a box of chocolates from Mr Hunk, though.'
He cringed as she rounded on him.
'What are you talking about?'
'Nothing! Nothing!' Angua. 'Now, how do you normally get into the Assassins' Guild?''And maybe afterwards we could kind of hang out in the middens along Phedre Road?' said Gaspode, his stump of a tail still thumping the ground. 'There's rats along there that'll make your hair stand on—No, all right, forget I mentioned it,' he finished quickly, when fire flashed for a moment in Angua's eyes.He sighed.'There's a drain by the kitchens,' he said.'Big enough for a human?''Not even for a dwarf. But it won't be worth it. It's spaghetti tonight. You don't get many bones in spaghetti—''Come on.'He limped along.
dropped it on the cobbles. It didn't look any better to Angua's lupine eyes.
'What for?' she said.
'Stuffed with nourishin' marrowbone jelly, that bone,' he said accusingly.
'Forget it,' said'That was a good bone,' he said. 'Hardly even started going green. Hah! I bet you wouldn't say no to a box of chocolates from Mr Hunk, though.'
He cringed as she rounded on him.
'What are you talking about?'
'Nothing! Nothing!' Angua. 'Now, how do you normally get into the Assassins' Guild?''And maybe afterwards we could kind of hang out in the middens along Phedre Road?' said Gaspode, his stump of a tail still thumping the ground. 'There's rats along there that'll make your hair stand on—No, all right, forget I mentioned it,' he finished quickly, when fire flashed for a moment in Angua's eyes.He sighed.'There's a drain by the kitchens,' he said.'Big enough for a human?''Not even for a dwarf. But it won't be worth it. It's spaghetti tonight. You don't get many bones in spaghetti—''Come on.'He limped along.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Vincent van Gogh Roses
Vincent van Gogh RosesFrancois Boucher The Marquise de PompadourFrank Dicksee PassionAndrea del Sarto Holy Family
took a deep breath.
'Interesting stuff, captain. Me and Nobby did some detectoring up at the Fools' Guild. I've writ it all down what we found out. It's all here. A proper report.'
'Fine.'
'All written down, look. Properly. Punctuation and everything.'
'Well done.'
'It's got commas and everything, look.'
'I'm sure I shall enjoy it, Fred.'
'And the—and Cuddy and Detritus have found out stuff, too. Cuddy's done a report, too. But it's not got so much punctuation as mine.'
'How long by eight-and-two?'
Longer pause.
'Two-enty-nine . . .?'have I been asleep?''Six hours.'Vimes tried to make mental space for all of this, and failed.'I've got to get something inside me,' he said. 'Some coffee or something. And then the world will somehow be better.' Anyone strolling along Phedre Road might have seen a troll and a dwarf apparently shouting at one another in excitement.A two-thirtytwo, and eight, and a one!''See? How many bricks in that pile?'Pause.A sixteen, an eight, a four, a one!''Remember what I said about dividing
'Right!'
'Right!'
'You can get there!'
took a deep breath.
'Interesting stuff, captain. Me and Nobby did some detectoring up at the Fools' Guild. I've writ it all down what we found out. It's all here. A proper report.'
'Fine.'
'All written down, look. Properly. Punctuation and everything.'
'Well done.'
'It's got commas and everything, look.'
'I'm sure I shall enjoy it, Fred.'
'And the—and Cuddy and Detritus have found out stuff, too. Cuddy's done a report, too. But it's not got so much punctuation as mine.'
'How long by eight-and-two?'
Longer pause.
'Two-enty-nine . . .?'have I been asleep?''Six hours.'Vimes tried to make mental space for all of this, and failed.'I've got to get something inside me,' he said. 'Some coffee or something. And then the world will somehow be better.' Anyone strolling along Phedre Road might have seen a troll and a dwarf apparently shouting at one another in excitement.A two-thirtytwo, and eight, and a one!''See? How many bricks in that pile?'Pause.A sixteen, an eight, a four, a one!''Remember what I said about dividing
'Right!'
'Right!'
'You can get there!'
Paul Cezanne The Banks of the Marne
Paul Cezanne The Banks of the MarnePaul Cezanne Still Life with OnionsPaul Cezanne Still Life with KettlePaul Cezanne Still Life with Fruit
'Cos you a man,' said Detritus.
Angua was bright enough to pause for a moment to think this over.
'A woman,' she said.
'Same thing.'I haven't really had a chance to look around,' she said. 'But I saw a place in Gleam Street.'
Which meant that they had to cross the river, at least two of them trying to indicate to passers-by that they weren't with at least one of the other two. Which meant that, with desperate nonchalance, they were looking around.
Which meant that Cuddy saw the dwarf in the water.''Only in broad terms. Come on, let's go and have a drink . . .'The transient moment of camaraderie in adversity completely evaporated.'Drink with a troll?''Drink with a dwarf?''All right,' said Angua. 'How about you and you coming and having a drink with me?'Angua removed her helmet and shook out her hair. Female trolls don't have hair, although the more fortunate ones are able to cultivate a fine growth of lichen, and a female dwarf is more likely to be complimented on the silkiness of her beard than on her scalp. But it was just possible the sight of Angua scraped little sparks off some shared, ancient, cosmic maleness.
'Cos you a man,' said Detritus.
Angua was bright enough to pause for a moment to think this over.
'A woman,' she said.
'Same thing.'I haven't really had a chance to look around,' she said. 'But I saw a place in Gleam Street.'
Which meant that they had to cross the river, at least two of them trying to indicate to passers-by that they weren't with at least one of the other two. Which meant that, with desperate nonchalance, they were looking around.
Which meant that Cuddy saw the dwarf in the water.''Only in broad terms. Come on, let's go and have a drink . . .'The transient moment of camaraderie in adversity completely evaporated.'Drink with a troll?''Drink with a dwarf?''All right,' said Angua. 'How about you and you coming and having a drink with me?'Angua removed her helmet and shook out her hair. Female trolls don't have hair, although the more fortunate ones are able to cultivate a fine growth of lichen, and a female dwarf is more likely to be complimented on the silkiness of her beard than on her scalp. But it was just possible the sight of Angua scraped little sparks off some shared, ancient, cosmic maleness.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
John William Waterhouse Waterhouse Ophelia
John William Waterhouse Waterhouse OpheliaLeonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra BenciLeonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the CarnationLeonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self Portrait
'Well?' said one of them. 'I think I've seen him walking around the city. So? He's just a watchman, Edward.'
'Of course. It is essential that he should be. A humble station in life. It all fits the classic p-attern.' Edward d'Eath gave a signal. There was a click as another glass slide was slotted in. 'This one was not p-ainted from life. King P-paragore. Taken 'Yes, Mr Edward.'
Click!
'And this is a rather good – well done, Bl-enkin – image of the bust of Queen Coanna.'
'Thank you, Mr Edward.'from an old p-ainting. This one' – click! - 'is King Veltrick III. From another p-portrait. This one is Queen Alguinna IV . . . note the line of the chin? This one' – click! —'is a sevenpenny p-iece from the reign of Webblethorpe the Unconscious, note again the detail of the chin and general b-bone structure, and this' – click! - 'is. . .an upside d-own picture of a vase of flowers. D-elphiniums, I believe. Why is this?''Er, sorry, Mr Edward, I 'ad a few glass plates left and the demons weren't tired and—''Next slide, please. And then you may leave us.''Yes, Mr Edward.''Report to the d-uty torturer.'
'Well?' said one of them. 'I think I've seen him walking around the city. So? He's just a watchman, Edward.'
'Of course. It is essential that he should be. A humble station in life. It all fits the classic p-attern.' Edward d'Eath gave a signal. There was a click as another glass slide was slotted in. 'This one was not p-ainted from life. King P-paragore. Taken 'Yes, Mr Edward.'
Click!
'And this is a rather good – well done, Bl-enkin – image of the bust of Queen Coanna.'
'Thank you, Mr Edward.'from an old p-ainting. This one' – click! - 'is King Veltrick III. From another p-portrait. This one is Queen Alguinna IV . . . note the line of the chin? This one' – click! —'is a sevenpenny p-iece from the reign of Webblethorpe the Unconscious, note again the detail of the chin and general b-bone structure, and this' – click! - 'is. . .an upside d-own picture of a vase of flowers. D-elphiniums, I believe. Why is this?''Er, sorry, Mr Edward, I 'ad a few glass plates left and the demons weren't tired and—''Next slide, please. And then you may leave us.''Yes, Mr Edward.''Report to the d-uty torturer.'
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