'But--'
'One puppy is not a rain. It fell out of a window. Look, we are not interested in pet precipitation, spontaneous combustion, or people being carried off by weird things from out of the sky--'
'Unless it happens,' said Sacharissa.
'Well, obviously we are if it does happen,' said William. 'But when it doesn't, we're not. Okay? News is unusual things happening--'
'And usual things happening,' said Sacharissa, screwing up a report from the Ankh-Morpork Funny Vegetable Society.
'And usual things, yes,' said William. 'But news is mainly what someone somewhere doesn't want you to put in the paper--'
'Except that sometimes it isn't,' said Sacharissa again.
'News is--' said William, and stopped. They watched him politely as he stood with his mouth open and one finger raised.
'News,' he said, 'all depends. But you'll know it when you see it. Clear? Right. Now go and find some.'
That was a bit abrupt,' said Sacharissa after they'd filed out.
'Well, I was thinking,' said William. 'I mean, it's been a... a funny old time all round, what with one thing and another--'
'--people trying to kill us, your being imprisoned, a plague of dogs, the place catching on fire, your being cheeky to Lord Vetinari--' said Sacharissa.
'Yes, well... so would it really matter if you and I, you know... you and I... took the afternoon off? I mean,' he added desperately, 'it doesn't say anywhere that we have to publish every day, does it?'
'Except at the top of the newspaper,' said Sacharissa.
'Yes, but you can't believe everything you read in the newspapers.'
'Well... all right. I'll just finish this report--'
'Messages for you, Mr William,' said one of the dwarfs, dropping a pile of paper on his desk. William grunted and glanced through them. There were a few test clackses from Lancre and Sto Lat, and already he could see that pretty soon he'd have to go out into the country to train some real, yes, reporters of news, because he could see there was only a limited future in these earnest missives from village grocers and publicans who'd be paid a penny a line. There were a couple of carrier pigeon messages, too, from those people who couldn't get a grip on the new technology.
'Ye gods,' he said, under his breath. The Mayor of Quirm has been struck by a meteorite... again.'
'Can that happen?' said Sacharissa.
'Apparently. This is from Mr Pune at the council offices there. Sensible chap, not much imagination. He says that this time it was waiting for the mayor in an alley,'
'Really? The woman we get our linen from has got a son who is the lecturer in Vindictive Astronomy at the University.'
'Would he give us a quote?'
'He smiles at me when he sees me in the shop,' said Sacharissa firmly. 'So he will.'
'O-kay. If you can--'
'Afternoon, folks!'
Mr Wintler was standing at the counter. He was holding a cardboard box.
'Oh, dear...' murmured William.
'Just you take a look at this one,' said Mr Wintler, a man who would not take a hint if it was wrapped around a lead pipe.
'I think we've had enough funny ve--' William began.
And stopped.