'Keep going, keep going . . .'
'Ver . . . ry . . . mad?' said Clancy. 'Well done! See? So much easier,' said Rincewind. 'Someone mentioned something about food?' Remorse nodded to one of the men, who handed Rincewind a sack. 'There's beer and veggies and stuff and, 'cos you're a good sport, we're giving you a tin of jam, too.'
'Gooseberry?'
'Yep.'
'And I'm wondering about your hat,' said Remorse. 'Why's there all corks round it?'
'Knocks the flies out,' said Rincewind. 'That works, does it?'
'Course not,' said Clancy. 'If'n it does, some-one'd have thought of it by now.'
'Yes. Me,' said Rincewind. 'No worries.'
'Makes you look a bit of a drongo, mate,' said Clancy. 'Oh, good,' said Rincewind. 'Which way's Bugarup?'
'Just turn left at the bottom of the canyon, mate.'
'That's all?'
'You can ask again when you meet the bush rangers.'
'They've got some sort of cabin or station, have they?'
'They've . . . Well, just remember they'll find you if you get lost.'
'Really? Oh, well, I suppose that's part of their job. Good day to you.'
'G'day.'
'No worries.' The men watched Rincewind until he was out of sight. 'Didn't seem very bothered, did he?'
'He's a bit gujeroo, if you ask me.'
'Clancy?'
'Yes, boss?'
'You made that one up, didn't you . . .?'
'Well . . .'
'You bloody did, Clancy.'
Clancy looked embarrassed, but then rallied. 'All right, then,' he said hotly. 'What about that one you used yesterday, “as busy as a one- armed carpenter in Smackaroo”?'
'What about it?'
'I looked it up in the atlas and there's no such place, boss.'
'There damn well is!' There isn't. Anyway, no one'd employ a one-armed carpenter, would they? So he wouldn't be busy, would he?'
'Listen, Clancy—'
'He'd go fishing or something, wouldn't he?'
'Clancy, we're supposed to be carving a new language out of the wilderness here—'