Part Five V0.03 (the usual little things)
We're back, with the search closing in for Emiko and Erma in Ankh-Morpork, and hopefully, a resolution in this chapter. Or maybe in Part Six...
I want to get this done and dusted quickly, as I've just been invited back to hospital for a "follow-up procedure" EDIT: I was in for a week and I still feel a bit "bleurgggh", so please forgive the delay in continuation – head full of mince, as they say. And I have more to come, which is depressing.
Also I'm not sure what happened to Chapter Four, as when I came back from holiday, I wrote the "missing bits" from the chapter, and to make sure people knew they were there and got to read them, posted the episode as a separate chapter. When I was sure it had been up for long enough for people to realise it was there and get to read it, I reincorporated it into an expanded Chapter Four and deleted the interim Chapter Five.
Going back to it just now - what's there is the original short chapter, and none of the add-on bits. I'm not sure what happened but I've just reinstated the improved version.
Anyway, on with the tale. It's plotted, with more about Emiko and Erma's Agatean background in their Discworld alternates, just needs writing.
The following morning.
Pseudopolis Yard:
Commander Sam Vimes glared at a roomful of Watchmen, all just off the Night Watch shift, all of them hoping this would be quick, so they could get off shift and get home for some sleep. Sam Williams regarded Vimes thoughtfully. The uninhumable one, the man who had effortlessly survived more than one approach from an Assassin, the man whose name was now a by-word for any impossible Assassination-related task. The man who Miss Alice Band sent her pupils to, for a short embarrassing lesson in humility. The man whose contract fee, should it ever be reactivated, was now over seven figures, and second only to that on Vetinari himself.
More immediately, Sam could see how the name "Stoneface" applied perfectly.
Feeling more intrigued than intimidated, he carried on studying the Watch commander. It also occurred to him that Captain Romanoff looked both attentive and a little bit worried, as if she wasn't immune from a Vimes shouting-at either. The tall and imposing Air Watch sergeant with her, who Sam had to concede was attractive in a glacial blonde ice-queen sort of way, stood beside her. Sam got, from general appearance and demeanour, that Sergeant Hanna von Strafenburg was not a woman to annoy. Even she was being deferential to Vimes, in a way that suggested she was also a little bit intimidated.
It appeared that the three Air Watch personnel in the room knew this too. Flying Officers Emily Pargeter, Matilda Glossop and Stacey Matlock were standing to attention, hoping not to catch the eye of any of their superiors. Sam noted that they were also standing as far away from Sergeant von Strafenburg as protocol allowed. The rank-and-file Constables who'd also been on the eventful patrol in Dimwell during the night were also attentively nervous.
"Thanks, Carrot." Vimes said, accepting another written report from his deputy. He barely glanced at it, preferring to eyeball the room.
"I'm due at the Palace in an hour." Vimes said, in the voice of a man who is not looking forward to an eventful Duty. "I can tell you in advance that bloody Boggis is going to raise Hell about what's been happening to his Thieves' Guild members. He will bend Vetinari's ear over this. And Lord Vetinari does not like having his ear bent by people like Boggis. At which point he will look at me, and politely ask what the Watch is doing to address Mr Boggis's concerns, and how we propose to resolve the situation."
He glared at the room again.
"So." he said, the word sounding like a concrete block poised to drop from a great height. "Any ideas, ladies and gentlemen? What do you know that I can polish up and present to His Lordship, so as to demonstrate we've not been idle?"
He glared again. Sam Williams felt the eyes of Sam Vimes linger on him for a lot longer than he would have liked. He was relieved when the stony glare passed on.
"And speaking of Thieves' Guild members." Vimes said. "I hear you had an eventful night last night. We've got a bunch of Thieves in the cells right now, who you detained during the night."
He looked down at the report in his hand.
Two of them are complaining about Watch brutality." Vimes remarked. "So for the purposes of the record, we need a full and open inquiry into the allegations. Just so we can demonstrate we've investigated fully, before I find the officer not guilty, then I can rip the bloody thing up and throw it away."
Vimes almost grinned.
"Says here that a Watchman identifiable as Witch Police Constable and Flying Officer Emily Pargeter, badge number five-hundred-and-double-four, was seen to slam the Thief, identified as Mr Reginald Consecrate of Scrote Alley, The Shades, up against a wall and, using both hands, she then jammed her issue truncheon firmly up against his neck, causing breathing difficulties and some bruising with, as Mr Consecrate stated, no regard whatsoever for the integrity of his larynx and his Adam's apple."
Vimes glared at the slightly built Emily Pargeter. Captain Olga Romanoff glanced sideways at Sergeant Hanna von Strafenburg. Both went extremely poker-faced.
"Mr Consecrate is a lot larger and taller than you, Officer Pargeter?" he asked, curiously. "But he alleges you threw him back by about six feet and then proposed to crush his throat with your truncheon?"
A flicker of a grin crossed Olga Romanoff's face.
"He may be exaggerating, sir." Emily said, politely. "It's also possible he has a pre-existing medical condition affecting his throat. Perhaps a bronchial condition with a partially obstructed airway? An accumulation of phlegm, perhaps. That can cause people to, for instance, make a noise you could mistake for a pig grunting."
Vimes eyeballed her. Emily held the eyeballing. Sam Williams was impressed. He was seeing a completely different side to his flying partner here, in the Watch world she lived in for most of her week. She was more than just an excited late-teenage nerd with a thing for Agatean culture. It surprised him he'd never seen this before.
"A noise like a pig grunting." Vimes said, flatly.
"Yes, sir." Emily replied.
Vimes looked thoughtful.
"So you thought he was taking the piss." he said. "And he was also under the misapprehension that he could oink like a pig in front of an Air Witch, and get away with it."
"I pointed out that I'm also a Witch, sir." Emily said, helpfully. "And that if he came to me with a throat problem, I was sure I could find a remedy for it."
"First aid to a member of the public, sir." Captain Olga Romanoff said. "A recognised duty of the Watchman, and also something we, as Witches, are obligated to deliver."
Vimes shook his head.
"Case thoroughly investigated under standard rules and protocol. No case to answer, case dismissed." he said.
Olga Romanoff and Hanna von Strafenburg nodded approval.
"Thank you, sir." Emily said.
Vimes glared at her.
"That's Thank you, Mister Vimes." he corrected her. "When we're both on shift together next and I'm not too busy, come and find me, and I'll show you how to do that thing with the truncheon without leaving any bruises. There's a knack to it."
He nodded dismissal, and moved on.
"Second allegation of brutality and assault is against Special Constable Williams..."
Vimes paused for a moment.
"Carrot, who the Hells is Special Constable Williams?" he demanded.
Sam Williams sighed resignedly and took a reluctant step forward.
"Actually, Commander Vimes, I think that's me..." he said.
Vimes glared at him.
"You? You're a bloody Assassin." he remarked. "And as if that's not enough, you're also that Dark Clerk Vetinari wished on us."
Olga Romanoff intervened.
"Actually, sir, I requested him." she said.
"Did you." Vimes said, taking a deep breath.
"I did send you an advisory memo, sir." Olga said, with a very slight hint of reproach. "And I made sure he is carrying accreditation."
Wordlessly, Vimes held out a hand. Sam stepped forward, and provided what was by now a slightly crumpled Accreditation. Vimes took his time reading this, then grudgingly nodded and handed it back. Irrelevantly, he thought About the only time you realise Captain Romanoff is a Rodinian is when she has to make a sincere attempt at pronouncing words like "accreditation". Then it's totally obvious where she's from...
"Captain Romanoff's authority." Vimes remarked. He briefly eyeballed Olga. Then he turned back to Sam.
"Okay. Now let's discuss your night, Mr Williams. Apparently it was eventful. The allegation made against you by a Mr Norbert Flange of the Shades. Apparently, he was seeking to politely leave the area with full respect and deference due to members of the Watch, but was accosted by a member of the public, who he states was not a Watch member, who showed him considerable violence and knocked him to the ground with consequent severe bruising, a possibly dislocated shoulder and a potential broken rib."
"Igor checked him over, sir." Captain Carrot said. "Just bruising. No fractures or dislocations."
Vimes nodded.
"Mr Flange states that from the professional clothing worn, his attacker was a Licenced Assassin. He, Mr Flange, points out with some heat, that as he is likely not to be subject to a Guild contract, what happened was aggravated common assault in an unprovoked manner and therefore he has a common law right to sue the arse off the Guild, and the individual involved, and demand compensation."
Vimes shook his head.
"I'll give him my name, sir, if he likes." Sam Williams said. A track in his mind said that Lord Downey – and Lord Vetinari – wouldn't waste too much time or be unduly concerned about this. Although he might get a short word about wasting their time, even for a few minutes.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Captain Olga Romanoff shaking her head.
"Suing the Assassins for assault." she said. "Well, good luck with that one!"
"And he's a Dark Clerk." Vimes remarked. "Who apparently had the full course in Agatean martial arts as part of his expensive Education."
"Money well spent, sir." Olga Romanoff remarked.
"Trained by Madam Butterfly." Vimes remarked. "Are all Agatean women homicidal maniacs in kimonos, or is it just the ones I've met?"
He paused, as if associating ideas, and then remarked
"Well, we could add "attempted suicide" to the charge sheet."
Vimes grinned. He turned to Sam.
"But you're still a civilian consultant." he remarked. "Makes it tricky, legally speaking."
"Actually, sir." Captain Carrot said. "Mr Williams will be sworn in as a Special Constable as of seven o'clock last night. Which means he's legally covered."
Vimes took a long hard look at his deputy commander.
"I can't help noticing a bit of confusion over tenses there, Carrot." he remarked. "Are you saying it's not been done yet?"
He sighed, and rummaged in his pocket. He took out a handful of loose change and selected a coin.
"Step forward, Recruit Williams." he directed. Sam stepped forward, unsure as to how you actually came to attention. He was vaguely aware it happened, and that there was a drill for it, but it had just never been a part of his life. Until now.
He tried to make the step as formal as possible, to be on the safe side.
Vimes eyeballed him.
"Do you want to be a Watchman, Williams?" Vimes asked.
"Yes, sir." Sam replied, judging this to be the appropriate response. Vimes nodded, very slightly.
"Do you swear to uphold the public trust, and to defend the peace and the governance of the city of Ankh-Morpork, under properly constituted authority, et cetera et cetera?" (1)
"Yes, sir." Sam replied.
Vimes gave Sam his stoniest stare.
"Hold your hand out." he requested. Sam complied, and was surprised to find a perfectly ordinary coin, a fivepenny piece, dropped into his palm.
"In the old money, that was called a shilling." Vimes said, by way of explanation. "Used to be called The King's Shilling. The official Shilling is back in my office, always assuming Nobby hasn't nicked it again. You'll just have to make do with Vetinari's Fivepence for now."
Vimes nodded again and the suspicion of a smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.
"Speaking of His Lordship, he probably thought sending one of his Dark Clerks to work with the Watch was a huge joke." he remarked. "Well, the last time this happened, we got Pessimal. You, Special Constable Williams, managed to knock down and detain a Known Suspect last night. Which tells me you've got something going for you. Carry on like this, and I might be forced to allow you to call me Mister Vimes."
He turned to Captain Carrot.
"Carrot, if I know you, you'll be backdating this swearing-in to yesterday, just to cover everyone?"
Carrot contrived to look openly innocent.
"The record will show, sir, that on the patrol on the twenty-second into the twenty-third of May, a new recruit called Samuel Williams was sworn in at seven o'clock, sir." he confirmed.
Vimes looked up at the clock, that showed the time was now five past seven.
"But you're not making it clear which seven o'clock applies. The evening one or the morning one." he observed. "Therefore no actual lie or falsification of the record happened."
Vimes extended a hand.
"Welcome to the Watch, Mr Williams." he said.
He looked across the room and grinned at Olga Romanoff.
"As it was Captain Romanoff who asked for you, she's now your Divisional Commander." he remarked. "You're going under Air Watch supervision. Standard procedure is that she'll delegate your induction to a senior NCO, who'll get you a uniform issue, and supervise your initial training."
Sam, with a growing sense of the inevitable, followed Vimes' eyes to the stony and severe Sergeant von Strafenburg. He considered he knew what was coming next.
"When you made a sincere try at coming to attention just now, I saw Hanna von Strafenburg wincing." Vimes said, cheerfully. "No doubt she'll be pleased to fit in some training in the basic necessary foot drill, when there's a spare five minutes."
"As the Commandant wishes!" Hanna barked. Sam felt the diamond piercing stare hot against his neck, and tried not to wince.
"Also, as an educated man, Olga might find you useful in the office." Vimes said. "I know she grumbles at the amount of paperwork. Somebody to sift through it and sort out what's important might actually be useful. Just promise not to share it with the Secretariat, and this could be a useful arrangement."
This time, Vimes actually grinned at the room.
"And now we've sorted out the incidentals." he said. "Let's get on with discussing the important things, like the current vexing situation concerning the mysterious Agatean ladies? I believe you have some possibly useful things I can report on to Vetinari and bloody Boggis?"
Crooked Nixon's Alley, just off Knickknack Street, Dimwell.
In the early morning gloom, two naked women were squatting in the cover of a narrow and shabby back alley, taking advantage of the natural dog-leg kink of the alleyway to shield themselves against observation from the main street. Knowing this was not a usual thing even for Ankh-Morpork, both were tacitly in agreement to keep this as brief and to-the-point as possible. The fact that Sergeant Sally von Humperdinck was holding up her cloak to allow some sort of a modesty screen was appreciated by both.
"So what do you know, Kitsune-san?" Angua von Überwald asked. The fact that she and Sally had actually found an Agatean were-fox on virtually the first attempt had been – briefly – elating. Then from Angua's point of view, it had become a flat "Oh. It's you."
The two-tailed fox had made no attempt to evade or run, but had grinned a vulpine grin at the werewolf. A conversation had followed in Universal Canine. Foxes spoke their own dialect, as did wolves, but the meaning had been clear.
Shall we Change, Angua-san, and talk as people?
Angua had sighed resignedly. Urban foxes in Ankh-Morpork tended to run like Hells and avoid werewolves, knowing trouble on four paws when they saw it. A vampire who could turn into a flock of bats at will was also bad news. Angua could get information out of a fox if she had to, usually by running it down and applying threats, but they were tricky little sods who delighted in passing on misinformation. Angua, darkly, suspected foxes were too clever by half. And as for this one...
Kitsune-san, who in her human form was an accredited cultural attaché at the Agatean Embassy, looked gravely at Angua, and then grinned. Even in human form, it was a fox's grin, that said "I am amused by this and I am not wholly to be trusted". Angua knew her from the loose association of werecreatures in Ankh-Morpork, a disparate grouping who recognised they had one thing in common, and set aside their species differences – most of the time – in a sort of Understanding. (2)
The slightly built Agatean woman inclined in a respectful half-bow.
"I am out here tonight for the same reason as you, Angua-chan." she said. "There is a new kitsune in this city, one who is not yet declared or known. This, on its own, interests and intrigues me."
"How do you know?" Angua probed. Kitsune shrugged.
"The same way you would, I imagine." she said. "Through the nose. It came on the breeze, Angua-chan. The smell of a vixen, which is hard to hide. Especially when the vixen is also human."
"Could we hurry this up, please?" Sally asked, with a hint of urgency. "It'll be full daylight soon, and I haven't got any barrier cream."
Kitsune made a respectful bow to Sally.
"As you wish, Kyuuketsuki-Himé." she said. "You carry Angua-chan's clothes in that backpack, so she can dress. For myself, my clothing is back at the Embassy. I will need to race back there in my other form, so as not to offend against public morals."
She did the vulpine grin again.
"Twoflower-sama has received certain despatches from Home." she said. "He has been respectfully asked, by ones who it is not wise to ignore or offend, to make inquiries as to newcomers into this City. The Person who made the request provided names and descriptions. One is described as a Majo, but too young as yet to be an Onibaba or an Akuba, who has an Affinity with the fox-kamis."
"Agatean words for Witches of various kinds." Sally said, helpfully.
Kitsune made the half-bow again.
"I came out tonight to ask friends in the world of the foxes what they know." she said. "They tell me there is indeed a two-tailed one who is unfamiliar to them and new here. I suspect she is not a natural shape-changer, as I am. She is what you would call a Witch, who chose foxes as her Affinity. I anticipate she will have at least a fox-tail, maybe a whole pelt, which she uses to affect the Change."
"Like Tony." Angua said, thoughtfully.
Kitsune did the half-bow again.
"Like the esteemed Tony-chan, with his leopardskin." she confirmed. (3) "Finding out more concerning this Witch is also a duty for me, Angua-chan. She may have been in this city for some time, but has not approached the Embassy, or sought to make contact with other Agateans here. Knowing something about the Great Ones at home, who are keen to know if the one they seek is in this City, I believe I understand why."
Angua frowned.
"Can you share a name or a description with me?" she asked.
Kitsune considered this.
"I believe it will be in everybody's best interests if she – and her interesting daughter – are taken into protective custody." she said. "I would not wish harm on a fellow kitsune, and the City Watch, who now employ Witches of their own, may be the best agency to deal with this. Angua-chan, the Name I have is Emiko Yureimoto. She has a daughter called Erma, who may also require considerate and respectful handling..."
After a while, a graceful and agile two-tailed vixen ran off and disappeared into the morning gloom. A werewolf and a vampire also sped off in the direction of Pseudopolis Yard.
Unseen University.
"Alright." Rincewind grumbled, as the Luggage scratched insistently at the door. Rincewind considered that at least he'd got the bloody thing house-trained, to the point that it wasn't smashing the door down. That was a sort of progress, he thought. Although he wished it didn't leave the occasional little pile of sawdust and wood-chippings in the corner of the room. He'd never been able to wean it off that.
"I want breakfast first." he pointed out, reasonably. "Then we go for a walk in town, alright? And no eating anybody, if you can possibly help it."
He sighed. Owning a Luggage had its downside.
Blairwood Close, morning.
Emiko Yureimoto tried, without success, to stave off the awful pit-of-her-stomach feeling that something bad was going to happen. It had been with her ever since she'd evaded the local keisatsu, the City Watch. She'd encountered them twice, in fact, once in the air and once running as a fox. And in between she'd discovered, on a windless night, somebody or something had closed the window she had purposely left open.
As she prepared breakfast for herself and Erma, she gloomily wondered what the day would bring. She sighed.
"Unmei" she said, firmly. "Shōyū."
She watched Erma, who had a copy of Warrior Unicorn Princess to hand while she ate. She was eating with one hand, but clearly absorbed in her comic. At least Mrs Dustbin's shop had some useful things and she'd been able to approximate an Agatean breakfast, with steamed rice and flaked fish – admittedly, out of a tin. Onsen tamego had also been simple too, with most of the ingredients locally available.
Again, she wondered what was going to happen to resolve all this. It wasn't just about her. Not at all. For want of anything better to do, she sat and stared out of the window. She heard her Luggage, Chow-Mein, stir restlessly in place, and heard the lid and hinges creak.
The Patrician's Palace, Ankh-Morpork.
Lord Vetinari looked down at the letter on his desk. Drumknott, his secretary, reflected that something was not quite right about the paper it was written on, something out of the ordinary. Although he had a natural affinity with stationery items and an expert-level knowledge of them, it bothered him that he couldn't quite work out what made it stand out. He fancied the paper was of Agatean manufacture, a sort of genkoyoshi, which he knew had a different and unique manufacturing process. He'd spent an absorbing few hours reading about how it was made, originally from bamboo pulp and rice-plant fibres. (4)
Whatever it was, his Lordship was in frowning contemplation of the contents. It had been couriered over from the Agatean Embassy in the early hours of the morning; Drumknott was aware they had means of their own of receiving and delivering messages from the Homeland that worked independently of any external agency. It was a mystery, however, as to exactly how. It was certainly faster than messenger albatrosses(5), and the Embassy liked to make it clear they were not wholly dependent on the Pegasus Service or the Klatchian Flying Carpet Service for conveying their reports to and fro.
Drumknott remembered that Clerk Samuel Williams had tentatively proposed an idea as to what that mechanism was. He reflected to ask Samuel about this. He needed debriefing as to whether anything useful about a Certain Situation was emerging from his time on attachment to the Watch. He could ask about the Embassy at the same time.
"Ah, Drumknott." Vetinari said, raising his head and seemingly remembering his secretary was in the room.
"Refresh my memory. Sir Samuel Vimes is due in shortly, is he not?"
"One of your first appointments, sir." Drumknott said. "You also requested Mr Boggis of the Thieves' Guild to be present."
Vetinari smiled a gnomic smile.
"Ah, yes. I'm sure knowing this, Sir Samuel has been suitably motivated to deal with a certain situation, as a priority. I rather anticipate he will have some interesting news to report."
Vetinari looked down at the letter again. He frowned.
"Advise Lord Twoflower he is going to be speaking to me later in the day, please? Use my honorary title of Shogun when you make the request. He will know what that implies. Thank you."
Vetinari shook his head.
"Lord Osamu and Lady Amaya." he said, to himself. "Such an interesting way to start the day."
Pseudopolis Yard:
"Okay." vimes said, breathing heavily. "It's something, at least, and I can brief Vetinari now. And let Boggis know we've not been idle."
He glared at Olga.
"We now know the Persons of Interest visit your bath-house." he said. "And as they're from a cleanliness culture, they're likely to go back regularly. Olga, I want that place staking out."
"On it, sir." Olga said. "I've also primed Rosa to contact us immediately when they next turn up."
Vimes nodded.
"Just be careful, Olga." he said. "This kiddie sounds lethal. I don't want anyone getting damaged when you do the bust."
Sam Williams cleared his throat.
"Agateans can get intense if they're interrupted in the bath, sir." he said. It might be best to make the arrest... the detention... after they're finished up and dressed. And Agatean clothing allows for any number of places to conceal weapons."
Vimes accepted this. He nodded at Emily Pargeter.
"I know Officer Williams is an expert in Agatean culture." he said. "But he can't body-search a woman and a girl. I want him to tell you how to do it and where they're likely to be concealing weapons, and then you do the search. Got it? Thanks."
Vimes frowned.
"One thing I don't get." he said. "Apparently this kiddie has the power to turn anyone she looks at into a demented screaming basket case. We know she's done that at least seven times in this city, which is why we need to pull her in. But three of you got to look her full in the face last night. You're all still here and sane? You all saw a pleasant, appealing, little girl with long dark hair who just smiled at you and then waved goodbye and flew away. I mean. How?"
"If I can answer that, sir?" Sam Williams requested. "In Agatea, the onryö is a spirit entity with a natural sense of justice and fairness. It doesn't always have to turn a person's mind into cream cheese. What you get is pretty much what you bring in. If your intent is bad, or you show violence or greed or seek to harm the entity in any way, then it responds by frying your mind. If it sees you showing malice or violence to another person who can't fight back, it intervenes and attacks the bully. But if you're basically decent and acting out of good motives, like Captain Carrot was last night, or Officer Pargeter, she'll acknowledge this and smile and wave before she flies off. It's recorded that human beings who have good intentions and decent minds have actually befriended onryö. In some cases, even married them and raised a family. Errr.."
Vimes digested this. He shook his head.
So what you're saying is that when she grows up, she'll make a natural copper." he remarked.
Olga Romanoff grinned.
"We recruit her, is that what you're saying?" she asked.
"Why not?" Vimes said, practically. "We've got every bloody thing else, so why not an undead Agatean spirit with a sense of natural justice?" he asked.
He looked speculatively at Olga again.
"She'd be a good fit for your Air Cadets, then." he observed. "And speaking of every bloody thing else, send Angua and Sally to me? They should be due off their patrol any time now. It's getting on for full daylight, for one thing."
I'll post this and come back – 6000 words. Back soon! it was bothering me that I hadn't posted any sort of continuation. Just didn't have the energy or the brainpower.
(1) Or something. I'll have to look up the precise wording of the Swearing In.
(2) Kitsune-san appears in The Many Worlds Interpretation as a sort of guide and mentor to a new Were in town, a were-deer. Or perhaps a gazelle. And yes, I know. Stalled tale.
(3) Tony is a Howondalandian were-leopard, who appears in several tales (Why and Were) and who also has a tutelary duty towards a were-deer. Or maybe a were-gazelle.
(4) There is a strong warning about never using woodpulp from jubboko wood to make paper. Otherwise, paper cuts will be the least of your worries.
(5) Messenger albatrosses? Think of messenger pigeons, but scaled up to cover thousands of miles between destinations. As seen in the canonical novels The Colour of Magic and Interesting Times. For communications with Agatea, Vetinari considers it worthwhile to keep a very specialised aviary (more of an overscale dovecot) on the roof of the Palace.
Notes Dump:
Got to add this in.
A name for a "Hubsvensskan" character:
Gråtrunka: defined in Swedish as "to cry and masturbate at the same time" , used as a sort of embodiment of futility, or "to sit at home in a state of depression, introversion and anxiety while at the same time jerking off and shivering in their own self-pity."
Related words conveying the same metaphorical meaning are "prunka" (apparently to masturbate in a standing/pissing position) and "brunka" (to masturbate whilst sitting on the toilet and simultaneously evacuating one's bowels).
Apologies for the tastelessness, but sometimes you discover a word like this and go "wow, who thought this one up?"
In local news (Stockport, England, December 2024)
Got to laugh. Travelling to a local hospital this morning (for tests and a progress assessment), passed a fine old building on the A6 which is currently swaddled in scaffolding and heavy-duty clingfilm (apparently mandatory if sandblasting is to be perpetrated) with a board up saying the Guild Hall is still open for business, but is undergoing conservation and refurbishment of external stonework. I recall reading that this is not going as quickly as the management would like, because of a difficulty in finding enough suitably qualified masons.
I mean.
This is the local Masonic Lodge. Saying they can't find enough masons is on a par with (a few years ago) Gerry Adams complaining his Christmas tree wasn't up to par because he couldn't set a timer. (Let that one sink in too. Gerry Adams, not having anyone in his contacts list who could adequately set a timing device).
So much for the romantic fable about how Freemasonry originated in the first place!
Also... the latest of a cocktail of drugs prescribed to keep me alive and breathing is called "Rybelsus". Apparently it's a semaglutide.
But... Rybelsus. It makes me think of a remote town in South Africa, founded by the great Dutch/Boer pioneer Martin van Rybelsus, somewhere in the remoter reaches of Natal or the Free State. A backwater dop where nothing ever happens and "justnow" is thought of as acting with precipitate and unwise haste.
Via Facebook:
"Dutch words for annoying people"
"Mieurenneuker": (Ant-fucker) – a pedant, somebody over-concerned with annoying nitpicking details;
"Graftak" (Grave-branch) – a whiny irritating older person;
"Takkewijf" (Twig-woman) - a rude argumentative woman who delights in argument and picking fights;
"Roepteuter" (Shout-horn) A mansplainer, somebody who over-shares his or her detailed explanations and opinions
"Sneuneus" (Sad-nose) Somebody who desperately wants to be cool, but comes over as merely ridiculous.
To use a common word in both languages – Lekker!
The actual day of the procedure was miserable, as I was on "nil-by-mouth" from being woken up at about seven. The Procedure itself didn't happen until a quarter to five, so by then I was leaping. to keep me hydrated they put me on an IV drip: I was asking testy things like why I couldn't actually DRINK a glass of water, and cut out the middleman. (Apparently the process might mean I threw up at some point, which isn't what you want in an operating theatre, but, I mean. A glass of water?) I do have to say I felt better for it afterwards, as if something in my chest had settled down a bit (arrythmia became rhythmia?) But the day was... uggh. Glad it's done! Ooc:
And here's another Air Witch:
Soviet Air Force Ace Pilot Lydia Litvyak earned the moniker "White Lily" ("белая лилия" belaya liliya) for having Nose Art of a white lily on her Yak-1. She was known for perfuming her cockpit and decorating it with flower bouquets, and said in interviews before her reported death in action during the Battle of Kursk that she didn't think military service was any reason to sacrifice her femininity.
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