Going Postal Page #10

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How could the clacks possibly lose?

Well, you've made quite a splash.

As the fish said to the man with

the lead weight tied to his feet.

(LAUGHS)

Perhaps l'm missing something.

No, my lord, it's a straight race.

But you can't possibly win.

l agree, it won't be easy.

And l must insist

that the race is run fairly

with strict rules.

l have no intention of cheating.

And l ask for no favours.

All l ask is that when l win,

Reacher Gilt hands over

the entire clacks network.

(CHUCKLES)

Very well.

But l have a condition of my own.

lf you lose, Mr Lipwig, you hang.

Really?

lt seems a little harsh.

But fair.

lf you lose, you will have

outlived your usefulness.

Having second thoughts, Postmaster?

Let's race.

Very good, sir.

The worried look. Very convincing.

Throws them off the scent.

Yes.

But how do you know

l'm not really worried?

Because you're the man

who got money out of the gods, sir.

Ah. Yeah.

Supposing l did that with a trick?

Damn good trick, sir, damn good.

A man who can trick money out of the

gods is capable of anything, sir.

Mr Groat.

Hmm?

What if l told you that, er...

There's no way a coach

can get to Uberwald

faster than the clacks machines?

Of course you have to say that, sir.

Because the walls have ears, eh?

Mum's the word.

(SlGHS)

Everything?

Everything.

But there's 1 5 years of work here.

He's grown out of pins.

Sir, pins are for life.

They stick with you.

He's starting a new life.

lsn't that right, Stanley?

So. (CLEARS THROAT) How much?

Dave, what do you think

about stamps?

So... what's the plan?

How can you possibly win?

Hmm?

Friction.

The coach will be so shiny

it'll glide through the air.

Meanwhile back in the real world(!)

The Post Office

is a hopeless underdog.

Ah, but the underdog can always

find somewhere soft to bite.

This is no time for witty banter.

We're not on a date.

Do you have a plan?

Do you trust me?

No.

Do you have a plan?

Of course.

We got 50-1 . 50-1 , sir.

You haven't done anything silly,

l hope.

No, no, no. l took all me savings,

Stanley here sold his pin collection

and we put the whole lot

on you to win the race.

The whole lot?

Erm...

Perhaps that wasn't so wise.

50-1 .

But we don't want to appear greedy.

Do we?

l mean, we want to keep

the moral high ground.

Bugger the moral high ground.

We'll be rich.

lt's all thanks

to your inspired plan, sir.

Mr Groat.

What?

Let's go and see if the golems

want to cash in. Good idea, lad.

Oh, my God.

There is no inspired plan.

There.

Right between your eyes.

The next time l see you,

that's where l'm aiming.

Messages can be blocked.

l trust you have

discovered Lipwig's plan.

l'm afraid not, sir.

Only a fool would challenge

the clacks with a horse and cart.

He must have a trick up his sleeve.

Now...

...what is it?

All l can promise you, sir,

is the clacks won't let you down.

We're clearing all messages off the

system, running double bandwidth,

l'm putting all my best operators -

You just remember,

if l'm made to look a fool,

your pretty little niece

will rue the day

her Uncle Pony

got her a job at the clacks!

Archchancellor Ridcully, my lord.

This had better be important,

l'm in the middle of an experiment.

lnvolving a knife and fork,

no doubt.

l wouldn't expect a layman

to understand the pressures

of university life.

lncredible though it may seem,

we have found a practical use

for one of your magical devices.

Have you?

The object in question is...

An Omniscope, my lord.

Enabling us to see things

at a distance, l believe.

The Omniscope is a highly complex,

very unstable piece of equipment.

You mean, it doesn't work?

Well...

Relatively speaking, it works.

Excellent, kindly have it

up and running by dawn tomorrow.

Now, listen,

magic is not some workmen's tool

that you can hire out by the hour.

Just as well, because

l wasn't intending to pay you.

Can l help?

Mr Pony.

Miss Adora.

How have you been?

lt's nice to see you

after all these years.

l'm sorry l never came

to your father's funeral.

lt didn't seem right.

What happened wasn't your fault.

You must hate me

for staying on at the clacks.

You're just doing your job, Mr Pony.

The truth is,

clacks is run on blood now.

There's not a day goes by

when l wouldn't like

to throw my resignation

in Reacher Gilt's face.

l'm 58.

Twinges in my knuckles,

a sick wife and a bad back.

You have to think twice, don't you,

before such gestures?

My father always said

you were a good man.

And a great engineer.

l'm sure he was right.

No.

Your father was a great engineer.

Gilt tried to burn these.

l'm sure you'll know

what to do with them.

l'm sorry.

Stand by to repel borders.

(SNlFFS)

Adora?

lf this is about

what l said earlier...

They killed him.

They killed John and they put

his name in a debit column.

(SOBS)

These people, they...

..they get away with murder and

everyone just looks the other way.

No, not everyone.

Just because you were right,

doesn't mean you have to gloat.

Forget gloating.

Now l really do have a plan.

Go away!

All you do is talk of plans.

Crazy, non-existent plans.

What sort of man are you?

Adora, just listen to me.

Give me the crossbow.

Those ledgers

are the key to everything!

Just hear me out.

lf you don't like the plan,

be my guest. Shoot.

This had better be good.

Now then, boys, you take the message

and ride hell-for-leather

to Uberwald.

But how are we going to get

to Uberwald overnight, sir?

You're not, Mr Groat.

Does that mean you're going to hang,

Mr Lipwig?

Not if l can help it.

l have a plan, Stan.

l need you to take a little detour.

There is a derelict clacks tower

and l need you to deliver

some canvas and ropes and rigging.

Rigging? ls this about boats, sir.

Only l can't do boats.

l get very seasick.

Not boats, Mr Groat. Sails.

We are going to block out

their message with a sail.

Block it out? Won't they notice?

Not if we put our own message

in its place.

Sorry, sir,

could you run that by me again?

Yeah. l got a bit lost at... sail.

(APPLAUSE)

Hello!

Hello, Ankh-Morpork!

Welcome to the great race!

Lovely to see you all!

Hello!

Hello.

Nice entrance.

lt will make up

for your ignominious exit.

Hello, sir.

(APPLAUSE)

Citizens of Ankh-Morpork.

As per Lord Vetinari's directive

number P1 500 -

We know why we are here.

To witness a great race!

The Postmaster has challenged

the clacks.

(CHEERlNG / APPLAUSE)

Two identical messages

must be delivered to Uberwald.

The wizard's Omniscope

will show us the finish line.

(OMNlSCOPE RUMBLES)

(CROWD SHRlEK)

Get it ready by sunrise, Ridcully,

which is when l expect to win.

And to show the spirit of fair play,

we have graciously allowed the

Post Office to choose the message.

l thought long and hard

about an appropriate message.

And then, l remembered

how nice it is to receive a parcel.

So, why not a book?

(CROWD "AH")

The authorised, illustrated

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