'Can't you control your fans?'
Hoggett shrugged. 'Sorry about that, sir, but what can you do?'
Henry looked around the Hippo. What could anyone do? It was the mob. The Shove. No one was in charge. It hadn't an arse to kick, a wrist to be slapped or even an address. It was just there and it was shouting because everybody else was.
'Well, then can you at least control your team?' he said. To his surprise Mr Hoggett looked down.
'Not entirely, sir. Sorry about that, sir, it's how things are.'
'One more incident of this kind and I will cancel the match. I suggest you leave the field of play, Mustrum. Who is the substitute captain?'
'Me!' said Ridcully, 'but under the circumstances I appoint Mister Nobbs as my deputy.'
'Not Nobby Nobbs?' exclaimed the former Dean.
'No relation,' said Bledlow Nobbs very quickly.
'Well, that was a good choice at least,' said Trev, sighing. 'Nobbsy is a clogger at heart.'
'But it's not supposed to be about clogging,' said Glenda. 'And you know what?' she added, raising her voice against the steel roar of the crowd. 'Whatever the old Dean thinks he can't stop the game, now. This place would just blow up!'
'You think so?' said Trev.
'Listen,' said Glenda. 'Yes, I think you're right. You ought to get out of here.'
'Me? Not a chance.'
'But you could make yourself useful and get Juliet out. Get her as far as Vimesy and his lot. I bet they're waiting right outside the gates. Do it right now while you can still get down the steps. Won't get a chance once they start to play again.'
As he left, Glenda walked unheeded down the touchline, to the little area where Dr Lawn was standing guard over his patients.
'You know that little bag you brought with you, sir?'
'Yes?'
'I think you're going to need a bigger bag. How's Professor Macarona?'
The professor was lying on his back, staring at the sky and wearing an expression of bland happiness. 'Sorted him out easily enough,' said the doctor. 'He won't be playing again any time soon. I've given him a little something to make him happy. Correction, I have given him a big something to make him happy.'
'And the Librarian?'
'Well, I got a couple of lads to help me turn him upside down and he's been throwing up a lot. He's still pretty groggy, but I don't think it's too bad. He's as sick as a parrot.'
'This wasn't how it was supposed to go, you know,' said Glenda out of a feeling that she should defend the bloody mess.
'It generally isn't,' said the doctor.
They turned as the noise of the nearby crowd changed. Juliet was coming down the steps glittering. The silence followed her like a lovesick dog. So did Pepe and the reassuring bulk of Madame Sharn, who might be a useful barricade in case the Hippo became a cauldron. Trev, tagging along behind them, seemed like an afterthought in comparison.
'All right, dear, what's this all about?' said Pepe.
'I ain't going,' said Juliet, 'not while Trev's in here. I ain't leaving without Trev. Pepe says he's going to win the match.'
'What have you been saying?' said Glenda.
'He'll win,' said Pepe, winking. 'He's got a star in his hand. You want to see him do it, missy?'
'What are you playin' at?' said Trev, angrily.