“There’s three more of them out there, Modo says,” said the Bursar.
They fell silent.
“We could go and pick up our staffs, couldn’t we?” said the Dean.
The Archchancellor prodded a piece of exploded heap with the toe of his boot.
“Dead things coming alive,” he murmured. “I don’t like that. What’s next? Walking statues?”
The wizards looked up at the statues of dead Archchancellors that lined the Great Hall and, indeed, most of the corridors of the University. The University had been in existence for thousands of years and the average Archchancellor remained in office for about eleven months, so there were plenty of statues.
“You know, I really wish you hadn’t said that,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“It was just a thought,” said Ridcully. “Come on, let’s have a look at the rest of those heaps.”
“Yeah!” said the Dean, now in the grip of a wild, unwizardly machismo. “We’re mean! Yeah! Are we mean?”
The Archchancellor raised his eyebrows, and then turned to the rest of the wizards.
“Are we mean?” he said.
“Er. I’m feeling reasonably mean,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“I’m definitely very mean, I think,” said the Bursar. “It’s having no boots that does it,” he added.
“I’ll be mean if everyone else is,” said the Senior Wrangler.
The Archchancellor turned back to the Dean.
“Yes,” he said, “it appears that we are all mean.”
“Yo!” said the Dean.
“Yo what?” said Ridcully.
“It’s not a yo what, it’s just a yo,” said the Senior Wrangler, behind him. “It’s a general street greeting and affirmative with convivial military ingroup and masculine bonding-ritual overtones.”
“What? What? Like ‘jolly good’?” said Ridcully.
“I suppose so,” said the Senior Wrangler, reluctantly.
Ridcully was pleased. Ankh-Morpork had never offered very good prospects for hunting. He’d never thought it was possible to have so much fun in his own university.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s get those heaps!”
“Yo!”
“Yo!”
“Yo!”
“Yo-yo.”
Ridcully sighed. “Bursar?”
“Yes, Archchancellor?”
“Just try to understand, all right?”