'And that strange wobbly thing with the cuckoo?'

'The unreal time clock,' said Ponder. 'Yes, we think that's essential for working out—'

'Anyway, it's all quite immaterial, because I certainly have no intention of going anywhere,' said the Dean. 'Send a student, if you must. We've got a lot spare ones.'

'Good so be would you if, duff plum of helping second A,' said the Bursar.

The table fell silent.

'Anyone understand that?' said Ridcully.

The Bursar was not technically insane. He had passed through the rapids of insanity some time previously, and was now sculling around in some peaceful pool on the other side. He was often quite coherent, although not by normal human standards.

'Um, he's going through yesterday again,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'Backwards, this time.'

'We should send the Bursar,' said the Dean firmly.

'Certainly not! You probably can't get dried frog pills there—'

'Oook!'

The Librarian re-entered the study at a bandy-legged run, waving something in the air.

It was red, or at least had at some time been red. It might well once have been a pointy hat, but the point had crumpled and most of the brim was burned away. A word had been embroidered on it in sequins. Many had been burned off, but:

WIZZARD

... could just be made out as pale letters on the scorched cloth.

'I knew I'd seen it before,' said Ridcully. 'On a shelf in the Library, right?'

'Oook.'

The Archchancellor inspected the remnant.

'Wizzard?' he said. 'What kind of sad, hopeless person needs to write WIZZARD on their hat?'

A few bubbles broke the surface of the sea, causing the raft to rock a little. After a while, a couple of pieces of shark skin floated up.

Rincewind sighed and put down his fishing rod. The rest of the shark would be dragged ashore later, he knew it. He couldn't imagine why. It wasn't as if they were good eating. They tasted like old boots soaked in urine.