Can I just say, this wasn't my idea. Well, here goes, WAIT! disclaimer, I don't own Discworld, and all likenesses to real people are entirely co-incidental.

The Highly Interesting Day In The Life of Cut-My-Own-Throat Dibbler

"Welcome to this weeks documentary on Crystal-Time, bringing the world to you, you lazy lard-ass! This week, we will follow top Ankh-Morpork businessman, CMOT Dibbler, as he bamboozles more and more people into buying his-" the presenter cuts out. A short pause ensues. Then, he resumes his monologue, "-his, er," he looks beseechingly at the script, as if to make it change, "-top-quality goods! Over to you, Bill!"

The camera view dissolves into a picture of downtown Ankh-Morpork, so named because it is lower down and therefore less desirable - the smell is worse - and the unmistakable features of Bill Offler slide into view.

"Thank you, Basil" cries Bill Offler, from off-screen. Once a big comedian on the "Punch and Judy" side of entertainment, he has since gone downhill and is now reduced to appearing on "documentaries" like this to scratch out a living. He has long since decided that life could not get any worse.

"Well, here I am in this thriving area of town, which is the natural habitat of this fabulous creature! I've been observing his routine for some days now and, sure enough, he'll soon venture down this alleyway!" A long, meaningful pause, during which, Dibbler appeared at another alleyway, sees Offler, blanches, and tries to escape.

"AH! There he is! Well, viewers, soon we will be able to appreciate his true style. Now, I think we'll get a close-up," he looks off-screen, "can we? Good," he follows Dibbler down the alley, shouting "Mr. Dibbler! Mr. Dibbler!"

Eventually he buttonholes the flustered businessman.

"Dibbler! Is it alright if we, er, follow you around today? We're doing a documentary. We wrote to you about it. Remember?"

"Oh. You're those people. I thought you were, err, someone else. Well, sure. Just, just, don't get in my way."

"Excellent!"

The view changes. Dibbler is in the middle of Sator Square, hawking his wares mercilessly. Some unsuspecting passers-by look interested. He also keeps looking nervously toward the camera and Bill Offler, who is, as ever, looking horrifyingly enthusiastic. Bill starts his monologue.

"Well, as you can see, in his natural environment, Dibbler is truly phenomenal, look how he attracts others with his wonderfully attractive ma-er-calls."

He saves himself from saying something truly terrible, realizing that, as he was a mime no longer, he couldn't make snide remarks about pheromones and sausages without people noticing. Some of the aforementioned passers-by have approached Dibbler and are looking over his 'wares',

"See how he concentrates on those he already has interested, but all the while keeps up his enticements to those who are not! Truly amazing..."

Dibbler begins a conversation with the two potential customers, presumably over prices. One of them looks slightly bemused, the other concerned. Clearly he has heard of Dibbler before, but it is now too late. He is trapped in Dibbler's sell-spell.

"Amazing..." he shakes his head, "This is something you won't see every day. It looks, YES! He's just made a sale, and yes they all look happy. I didn't hear the price-" one of his crew says something to him "-but I've just been informed that he made a half-dollar profit on each 'sausage-in-bun', which means he was paid by the butcher to take them. Truly fascinating..."

The view again cuts to the inside of some dark shed

"Well, this is where we will have to leave Mr. Dibbler, now, for he is going to do his freelance advertising work for Mr de Worde, who refused to allow us into The Times' printing office, but I can cheerfully announce that so far today he has made AM $6.82 from his work, and left behind a total of 17 un-satisfied custo-"

A large troll, wearing a rough approximation of a suit, had just tapped Bill on the back. By tapped, I mean slammed; Bill buckled under the force of the blow. ,

"'Ere," he said, "you know where I could find Dibbler, only I've got some business with 'im"

7 more suit-wearing trolls appeared behind the first one

"Er, of course. He's just in there" said Bill, pointing at the rough shed behind him.

"Thank. You got Chrysophrase grat...gratig...thanks" said Chrysophrase, as he and his trolls headed for, and through, the building walls.

END OF MINISTORY

a/n: you like? tell me. I may do some more 'Bill Offler' documentaries. They are fun to write.

And, any mistakes, this was done on wordpad, which has no checker, and my beta-reader isn't foolproof. Look at the monstrosity of a story she let get through last time!