Okay folks... I swore I would never write something like this... but it just had to happen, didn't it? You can blame Yap for this. Yap mentioned 'Discworld's Big Brother' and my brain went into overload trying to think of a plausible reason for having one... afraid that this is the best I could come up with! I've tried to keep everyone reasonably within character but the very nature of this daft little fic means that sometimes they slip a little. Apologies for that but I hope you at least get a good laugh out of it. I tried my best to be funny! Indicates images on screen Oh, and Big Brother= The Watcher.

Commander Vimes straightened the hang of his hated official uniform a little nervously in the long mirror. He went through to the breakfast room and allowed Lady Sybil to brush some lint off his shoulders he was quite sure was imaginary, or perhaps only visible to women.

"Don't look so worried Sam. I'm sure nothing /bad/ is going to happen."

Vimes didn't share his wife's sentiment. He nodded mournfully, privately thinking that the upcoming meeting was perhaps the best opportunity Vetinari had been presented in /years/ to seriously annoy his Chief-of-Police. And it was all Carrot's fault. Vimes was going to /kill/ him.

He kissed his wife goodbye and turned to Little Sam. He /had/ intended to pat his infant son on the head before going out, but Sam was not responding well to his mother's attempts to feed him solid (if the mush that was labelled 'baby food' could be considered solid; Vimes certainly didn't class it as such) food, although from what Vimes saw his son had a very promising career developing as a modern interior designer; he was quite skilful in plastering very specific areas (his father's face, his mother's clothes, his own hair) in the orange gunk that Sybil was unsuccessfully trying to get him to eat.

In an attempt to avoid being coated in the mess he simply transferred a kiss from his fingers to the only clean spot on Sam's cheeks before hurrying out as the baby apparently took aim.

Carrot was waiting for him patiently outside the Yard. "Good morning sir!" he said, cheerfully.

"I doubt it," Vimes replied witheringly as he quickened pace to get to the Palace on time.

"Sir... surely you're pleased that the Patrician wants to involve you as one of our most prominent members of society in the Fundraising Committee for Noble Causes?" Carrot took in Vimes's expression. /Obviously not,/ he thought.

"Don't get me wrong, Captain. I'm all for charity. I just get a little nervous when people start officialising acts of kindness."

Carrot could not think of any reply to that, so they walked the rest of the way in silence.

The door to the Oval Office was ajar, and Vimes took a deep breath before pushing it open enough for him and the Captain to pass through. Representatives from most of the major guilds were there; Assassins, Wizards, Thieves, Beggars, Seamstresses... even William de Word from /The Times./ Vimes's eyes narrowed as William gave him a 'friendly' smile.

"Ah, Commander. And Captain. So good of you to join us," said Vetinari from his place at the head of the table. "Please, take your seats. We have much to discuss."

Vimes sat down gloomily and pulled towards him the thick folder that lay on his desk. "You all know why you are here," Vetinari continued, "It has been decided that responsibility lies in the community for the treatment of the needy in society." Vetinari looked about as happy as Vimes at this decision. "As such I have called this meeting with the main representatives of all the major guilds and groups in the city to discuss a strategy for fundraising..."

*

Three hours later Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to make his headache go away.

"Look," Dr. Whiteface was saying, looking decidedly /red/ in the face despite his make-up, "Custard pie throwing is regulated by the Fool's Guild. Any unauthorised slapstick performed by non-members would clearly be in breach of Guild Laws and as such the Fool's Guild would be well within their rights to punish wrongdoers."

Vetinari cleared his throat. "Gentlemen," he said spreading his hands, "And ladies. I think we are in accordance that Idea Number Thirty Three: Throwing Custard Pies At Guild Leaders is unfeasible due to Fool's Guild law. Now, does anyone have any other ideas?"

There was a general shaking of heads. "Alright," Vetinari sighed. "This meeting is closed. We will reconvene in three days time. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your time."

There was a scraping of chairs as everyone hurried to leave, Vimes managing somehow to clear the desk from a standing start and be the first through the door; only just beating Archancellor Ridcully to it, who had /accidentally/ caught Boggis of the Thieves' Guild around the shins with his staff moments before as the man had attempted to push past.

When the room had finally cleared Vetinari permitted himself a small sigh of exasperation. He took the key from his desk that unlocked Leonard's airy prison and two minutes later was pushing open the heavy oak door with a surprising degree of care.

Leonard's experiments for today seemed fairly harmless. From the look of it he had set up a small camera, not at all like the huge cumbersome things used in the Moving Pictures industry, but instead quite small; compact even. Whatever it was filming was being projected onto a screen. It appeared to be a street scene visible from outside the skylight.

"Ah! My lord," Leonard called from his comfortable seat, "Come in, come in!"

Vetinari shut the door behind him. "What are you doing, Leonard?" he asked, not unkindly.

Leonard looked slightly shamefaced. "Uh, observing, my lord. It is... fascinating I must admit."

Vetinari smiled thinly. "This camera is impressive, Leonard."

"Thank you."

"Tell me Leonard, can you think of a method of fundraising which no-one in this city could object to?"

Leonard thought for a moment. "Well..."

*

Vimes sat down at his place at the table again and once more pulled the folder towards him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I think I may have the answer to our problems," Vetinari said. Vimes glanced up and met his eyes, not liking the slightly amused look in the icy blue gaze /at all./

He flicked through the papers on which Leonard's plan was outlined and swore under his breath. "You cannot be serious?"

"You seriously want to put seven people in a house and broadcast their antics to the general public?"

"And get them to /pay/ to vote out one person each week?"

"It'll never work."

"Never."

"There's just no possibility that people would /pay/ to see such rubbish!"

"I agree," Vimes said, fairly quietly, "Anyway, who'd be likely to volunteer to be stuck in a house like that?"

Vetinari met his gaze again. /Oh no,/ thought Vimes, /You had to ask, didn't you?/

"I was hoping, Commander, that the members of this committee would be willing to volunteer."

"I was afraid of that," muttered Vimes.

*

His bags were packed and he had kissed his wife and son goodbye twenty minutes ago. Sitting on the hard backed chair waiting for his name to be called Vimes wondered again just how he had managed to get into this mess. Volunteering for charity work... if it hadn't been for William de Word printing all the names of those asked to participate in the secret fundraising project in his wretched newspaper Vimes was quite certain he would have been able to weasel his way out of it, somehow.

Now he was contemplating spending possibly eight weeks in a house with six other people, with cameras broadcasting all of the action into Unseen University's Great Hall where the public could pay to view it! And what was even worse was that it was already proving popular! Tickets to watch the entrance of the housemates had already sold out!

He took out his engraved cigar case and stared at the writing. He was slightly ashamed to admit it, but he was going to miss his wife and son. He'd grown quite used to hurrying home to spend time in their company and now he might not see them for quite a while.

With any look he'd be evicted at the end of this week and could go home. He put the cigar case away. The surname 'Vimes' meant he was going to be the last man to enter the specially constructed house that had been built in UU's gardens over the past two months.

A junior wizard appeared at the door and favoured Vimes with a small smile. "Time to go now, sir."

"Oh great."

Vimes followed the younger man slowly down the path to the house, surrounded by menacing fences. The gate was opened and he passed through into the house.

Seated around the table were the six other contestants; Otto Chriek, CMOT Dibbler, Detritus, Cheery Littlebottom, the soprano singer Christine and the Librarian.

"Morning," Vimes said, extracting his cigars again.

"Good mornink."

"Mornin'"

"Morning squire."

"Good morning!!"

"Ook!"

"Morning sir," replied Cheery, "This is the kitchen and sitting room; the bedrooms are through those doors over there and that is the diary room."

"Diary room?"

"Yes sir. You did read the briefing material, didn't you sir?"

"Briefly. And drop the sir, Cheery. First name basis in the Watching-People-House."

"Yes si-Sir Samuel."

Vimes gritted his teeth. "Cheery. For gods' sake! Sam! Vimes if you really must!"

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Vimes lit one of his cigars, fervently hoping his supplies would last the next week.

*

There was an air of expectancy in the Great Hall of Unseen University; people were fidgeting in their seats and minor fights were breaking out as various members of society sought to get the best view possible of the wall sized screen on which the first day's antics of the housemates would be broadcast.

The screen flickered into life and a hush descended on the Hall. The opening credits rolled, a huge eye blinked down at the assembled multitude.

"Hello! This is the Watcher! And welcome to our first edition of Watching-People-House!" said the narrator. "The housemates have now spent twelve hours in the house and today they have been set their weekly challenge, been instructed to make a shopping list and we will shortly be going LIVE to the house in order to surprise the housemates! But first we want to introduce you to the seven new housemates!"

The picture on the screen changed to show Otto's face.

"Otto Chriek: a member of the black-ribboners and photographer for /The Times/. Otto has taken in three pairs of sunglasses and his luxury item was his factor three-hundred and forty suncream."

Christine's pale visage appeared on screen.

"Christine is a soprano at the Opera House in Ankh Morpork. She bought in her ballgown and her luxury item was her vanity case."

CMOT Dibbler's grin replaced Christine's.

"CMOT Dibbler describes himself as a merchant adventurer. He's taken in a bottle of Wow-Wow sauce and a poster from the film 'Blown Away.'

Detritus replaced Dibbler.

"Detritus the troll, Sergeant in Ankh-Morpork City Watch, opted to take in as many shale buns as he could, his luxury item was his clockwork cooling helmet."

The Librarian ooked excitedly on screen.

"The Librarian packed his case with bananas. His luxury item was his green dressing gown."

Cheery Littlebottom waved to all the viewers on screen.

"Cheery, Corporal in the Watch, took into the house her mining helmet and her luxury item was her high heeled iron boots."

Vimes scowled down from the screen.

"Commander Vimes, here representing the Ankh-Morpork nobility (rather grudgingly) managed to pack only three shirts, using the rest of the space available to pack as many cigars as he could. The Watcher has calculated that he has a supply of three hundred and thirty. We are reliably informed this might last him a week. His luxury item was his silver cigar case."

The pictures disappeared. "Today in the house the housemates have been busy settling in and personalising the Watching-People-House."

Vimes finished tacking up his picture of Sybil and Sam over his bed with a sigh. Over the other side of the room Detritus was lovingly arranging his rockery on his bedside table. /Just don't ask,/ thought Vimes, /Just don't ask!/

Otto had already colonised the walk-in-wardrobe as his bed, on the premise that it was dark enough and had a bar for him to hang on; also the smell mothballs reminded him of Uberwald. CMOT Dibbler had put up his poster and was busy cooking their first meal.

"Dinner's ready!" shouted Dibbler from the kitchen.

The others assembled around the table quickly. Dibbler revealed the fruits of his labour, highly suspicious sausages coated in what was probably (all though with Dibbler nothing was ever certain) Wow-Wow sauce. The air shimmered above the plate of hot dogs in a heat haze. There was the suggesting of blistering of the varnish on the wooden table top.

Vimes, feeling perhaps it was his duty to take the first sausage, picked one up gingerly and took a bite. Encouraged by the fact that his expression did not change greatly as he chewed, the others followed suite. Vimes swallowed.

There was a brief pause in which nothing more happened than Vimes's eyes beginning to cross. He managed to say something that sounded a bit like 'Margh!' but modulated and about three octaves higher than his normal vocal range; suggesting an action normally associated with the secret horseman's words.

He ran out of the house and into the garden, closely followed by most of the other hosuemates. There was a splash as he hit the water of the swimming pool and then the hiss of rising steam. Only Detritus remained sitting, chewing pensively on his sausage. A grin spread slowly across his face. "Nice! Dis is just like what my Uncle Gneiss used to cook from the volcanic lava when I were a pebble!" The Librarian, hanging from the ceiling, hadn't eaten any of the sausages; he peeled a banana reflectively with his feet.

"Never ever EVER cook again," said Vimes, slightly damply, from the garden.

"Oh no!! I'm all wet!! My mascara's running!!!"

"That's what happens when you jump headfirst into a swimming pool," Cheery bit back at Christine, in tones of withering scorn.

"Ook Ook Ooook!"

"Was that 'help there's an escaped panda in the swimming pool?'" said Cheery nastily.

"Now now ladies," said Otto, "No fighting please."

*

"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. Would someone please come to the Diary Room?"

"I'll go!" shouted Vimes, who had been snoozing on the sofas whilst the others were outside in the garden (apart from Otto, who was in the wardrobe.)

"Hello Sam," said the Watcher, as soon as Vimes closed the door. "On the chair is this week's task. Can you take it out of the Diary Room and read it to the other housemates?"

"Can do," Vimes replied, picking up the paper. "EVERYONE! Message from The Watcher!" he shouted as he headed out into the garden.

The others sat up or swam over to the edge of the swimming pool as Vimes prepared to read. Otto appeared, in his sunglasses and smothered in suncream.

"What does it say?!" asked Christine.

"Housemates, the Watcher has set this week's challenge. Housemates are required to be locked in the girls bedroom for ten minutes whilst the equipment is set up." Vimes turned the paper over a few times. "That's it."

After fifteen minutes had actually transpired Vimes tried the handle of the bedroom door and found that they could get into the house again.

"Oh! Look! In the garden!" said Cheery.

In the garden there were now seven tailor's dummies. Vimes picked up a piece of paper laid on the ground by the largest of the dummies, which was labelled 'Detritus.'

"Housemates" he read aloud, "This week's task is to inflict as much damage as possible on your dummy in thirty seconds," Vimes's face split into a grin, "The housemates will be called in no particular order at any time of the day or night over the next four days. In order to pass this week's challenge every housemate must score over fifty damage points. Excess damage points caused by other housemates will not be taken into consideration on the overall score."

*

"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. Cheery, you have ten seconds to prepare yourself to attack your dummy!"

Cheery let out a yelp of surprise and ran into the garden. A klaxon blared and she set about the wooden man, egged on by her fellow housemates.

"Hit it!!" That was Christine.

"Kick it!" Dibbler advised.

It soon became apparent that every time a point was scored there was a beep. Vimes tried to count under his breath but the bleeps were to numerous, too fast.

"Get de head!" That was Detritus.

"Cheery, elbow it! Elbow it in the stomach!" bellowed Vimes, red in the face.

"Oh! I am not sure all zis violence is a good thing." That was Otto.

"Ook!"

The klaxon blared again and Cheery stopped. "I only counted forty-seven bleeps," she said, ashen faced.

"Nah," said Dibbler, "I got at least fifty three."

"You did good, Cheery," Detritus informed her and Vimes nodded his assent.

"I wonder who'll be next?!" said Christine.

There was laughter in the Great Hall as the Watching-People-House eye reappeared on screen. "We now go live to the Watching-People House in order to surprise out housemates!"

The eye changed into the view of the sitting room where the housemates were gathered.

"Watching-People-House, this is the Watcher. You are live in the Great Hall, please do not swear!"

"Hello Watcher!!" said Christine, echoed by Dibbler and Cheery.

"You will now be called into the Diary Room in alphabetical order," said the Watcher, "You must not discuss what is said in the Diary Room with other housemates. Will Otto please come to the Diary Room?"

The vampire complied, looking rather nervous.

"Hello Otto," said the voice of the Watcher as the door shut. Otto perched apprehensively on the comfortable chair. "Would you please nominate the two housemates you would like to put up for eviction."

"Vat? Now?"

"Yes Otto."

"But I thought..?"

"The Watcher needs the name of your first nominee now Otto."

"Okay," said Otto. He thought for a moment. "My first nomination is Sam Vimes."

"Can you tell us why?" prompted the Watcher.

"Vell... he doesn't seem very happy about me living in the wardrobe... and out of all the housemates here I think I'll be able to bond with him the least." He looked uncomfortable.

"And your second nomination?"

"I think it will have to be Dibbler," Otto said. "His cooking is terrible!"

"Thank you Otto. Will Christine please come to the Diary Room!"

Christine perched on the chair. "What is it, Mister Watcher!?" she squeaked.

"The Watcher require your nominations."

"Oh. Okay! Um! Firstly, Mister Dibbler!! Because his cooking is just awful!! And secondly, Cheery! Because I don't think I can stand another /day/ with her!!"

"Thank you Christine. Will Dibbler please come to the Diary Room!"

Dibbler looked uneasy on his seat. "I'll have to nominate Christine," he said. "Her voice is annoying me terribly. And secondly, Mister Vimes. Because he's very bad tempered."

"Thank you Dibbler. Can Detritus please come to the Diary Room!"

"Well. I fink I'll have to nominate Christine. Because she upset Cheery. And Dibbler because the others don't like his cookin'."

"Thanks Detritus. Can Cheery please come to the Diary Room!"

"I think I'll nominate Christine, because she annoys me and I think she might fail the task for us. And Dibbler, because his cooking was so foul!"

"Thank you Cheery. Librarian to the Diary Room, please!"

"Ook. Ook, ook ook eeek! EEEK! Ook."

"Can we just confirm that was 'Christine because she ate one of your bananas' and 'Dibbler because he can't cook?'"

"Ook."

"Thank you. Can Sam come to the diary room please!"

Vimes sat down looking unsettled. "Yes. I'd like to nominate Otto, because I think of all the housemates he's the one I get on the least with. And Christine because I don't think she's really enjoying life in the house and I think she might jeopardise the task."

"There you have it!" said the Watcher to the audience in the Great Hall, who were talking so loudly amongst themselves it was a wonder the narrator could be heard. To both the hall and house they added: "This weeks housemates up for nomination are going to be, in alphabetical order.... Christine.... and CMOT Dibbler."

Christine immediately burst into tears and ran into the girls's bedroom. Cheery appeared to fight an internal battle, lose, and then followed her into the room to comfort her. Dibbler simply nodded to himself, still smiling after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence conversation began again.

"Who goes?" said the Watcher to the Great Hall audience. "You decide! To vote for Christine put a penny in Christine's box. To vote for Dibbler, put a penny in Dibbler's box. The housemate who's box contains the most money by Friday is out!"