Going Postal Page #7

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Deputy Postmaster Groat.

l want them...

Did you say deputy postmaster, sir?

l did.

And, what's more,

l want your men out on the streets

delivering the mail today.

Yes, sir.

Looks like the clacks is down again.

This really is my lucky day.

Special today, ladies and gentlemen,

mail to Pseudopolis

reduced to three pence.

Three pence only.

And if anyone has a message

already stuck in the clacks,

we'll deliver it for free.

No matter how hard l scrape my shoe,

Lipwig remains stuck to it.

lt says here he was unscathed.

Does this mean we have to try again?

No.

He may be alive,

but he's yesterday's man.

Knowing Lipwig, he'll rebuild.

With what?

lt'll cost a fortune.

And the... Post Office is bankrupt.

Nevertheless, people...

..seem to have a fondness

for the post.

My latest innovation

will change all that.

lnnovation?

We closed down research

and development years ago.

This isn't about research, Horsefry.

This is about dazzling the masses

with a bauble.

l believe the respectable term is...

..marketing.

(FANFARE PLAYS)

We are proud

to usher in a new era.

The mobile era.

A network of towers like this

will move around Discworld

as demand requires.

This doesn't look good.

ln future,

if you can't get to a clacks tower,

the clacks tower

will be brought to you.

Full coverage for the entire Disc.

Mr Gilt, today's increase

in the price of clacks messages

is the fifth this year.

Surely that is extortion.

This is the future

of long-distance communication,

and new technology is not cheap.

Would you really have that

when you can have this?

But he had the Post Office

destroyed.

(LlPWlG) We have no proof, Mr Pump.

We must do something.

Follow me.

(CROWD GASPS)

Arrest those men!

For what?

Vandalising clacks property.

l think you'll find the only offence

here is trespass.

Your map was being paraded

on Post Office property.

l'll see you paraded

through hell, Lipwig.

Are you going to send another

assassin to sort me out?

Assassin? l have no idea

what you're talking about.

Mr Gryle and l

had a very interesting chat.

l know exactly

what you've been up to.

Where's your proof?

All in good time.

You're such a fraud.

And you're such a murderer.

(CROWD EXCLAlMS)

That is slander.

This is a declaration of war.

Can l quote you on that?

lf you want a quote,

Miss Cripslock, try this.

Neither rain nor fire

can stop the post.

Very stirring.

But his quote had "war" in it.

Fine talk, sir. Fine talk.

You do give a good bite of sound.

lf you don't mind me saying,

it's bugger all help.

l know, l know.

They come through with a new

technological breakthrough.

"A modern miracle that will change

communications for ever."

And we haven't even got a roof.

Oh, one decent downpour

and all this will be papier-mache.

Big roofs cost big money.

That's it, Mr Groat.

Rain.

Rainy days.

The problem with people who put

money away for a rainy day

is they never know when it's raining.

(LAUGHS)

Well, l think it's about to pour.

Stress.

lt does funny things to a man.

Sausage?

Mrs Leakall's

Premium Reserve sausages.

A special offering.

Because l have a special prayer.

Well, you're off to a good start.

Tell me, how do you actually

get the sausages up there?

Frying. The gift of sausages ascends

onto Offler, the sacred crocodile,

by means of smell.

And then you... eat the sausage?

A common misconception.

But the true sausagidity

goes to Offler.

He eats the... essence

of the sausages.

While we priests

eat the earthly shell.

That would explain

why the smell of sausages

is always better than

the actual taste, perhaps.

You should have been a theologian.

So, what is your prayer

to accompany Mrs Leakall's finest?

Just the usual.

Pennies from heaven.

$1 50,000... to be precise.

Might take more than a few sausages

to get something that... specific.

But... let's give it a shot.

(MOlST) Post!

Post!

Good work, Stanley. That'll do it.

Forwards, Stanley, forwards.

Post.

Come on.

Everyone loves getting a letter.

l think it's best

you stay away from Miss Adora.

Stay away?

l can't do that, she loves me.

But she just tried to kill you.

Well, the human heart

is a complex thing, Mr Pump.

Love, hate,

they're just a breath apart.

She doesn't know it yet,

but she loves me.

(WHlSTLES)

Mr Pump.

That's your third delivery today.

Many letters survived the fire.

We are working round the clock

to deliver them.

Round the clock?

Without a break.

That is how much we believe

in Postmaster Lipwig.

But that's exploitation.

The Golem Trust can't allow it.

You misunderstand.

We volunteered.

Volunteered?

That is the worst form

of exploitation.

Rats.

What are you doing, Horsefry?

l need it for my budget.

Budget?

l need to know how many towers

we're going to build.

Do you know what l really like

about you, Horsefry?

Your naivety.

Sorry, don't quite get you.

We put up the clacks charges

to finance a fleet of towers, right?

But we don't actually build any.

So the extra revenue

becomes pure profit.

But won't people

want to see some towers?

Well, we'll wheel out that fancy

model every now and then,

give the idiots

some eye candy to gawp at.

Meanwhile, the mobile clacks project

is officially in development.

Shame.

l thought it was a good idea.

Horsefry, Horsefry.

They aim of business is?

Erm...

Not to provide a good service,

but to provide the...

Only.

..only service.

They seem very taken with

the new-fangled towers, sir.

lt's the oldest trick in the book.

Dazzle the punter

with a pretty picture.

What's a punter?

They haven't even built

the mobiles yet, have they?

lt's all promise.

Know what happens to promises.

Will the people

ever come back to us?

How would they be able to resist

when we have our new

state-of-the-art Post Office?

Not in our lifetime.

You underestimate me, Mr Groat.

l don't want to hurt your feelings,

but praying for money

is a bit desperate, don't you think?

There's a god out there for everyone.

The trick is hooking up with -

Mr Lipwig! Mr Lipwig!

Mr Lipwig!

The light.

The wonderful light.

Glory be to Offler.

The sacred crocodile god.

Oh!

He's blind. He's blind.

Mr Lipwig, sir.

Mr Lipwig! Mr Lipwig!

One regular white,

one skinny Klatchian.

And two figgins, please.

(GROAT) Somebody call a doctor.

Can you see nothing at all?

Are you totally blind?

Only blind to this world, my friend.

Now l perceive the inner truth.

Yes.

The angels of Offler...

..whisper onto me.

One... hundred... and...

..fifty thousand dollars.

Buried... in a forest.

Offler.

l am not worthy.

Let the angels choose a holy witness.

Me, me!

(ALL SHOUT)

l'll give you the front page.

You...

..are chosen.

Offler says... to the hop gate.

And bring a shovel.

(MOlST lNTONES)

(GROAT) Divine intervention.

Show me the way!

The praying man.

lt is here.

The praying man

under the praying tree.

Looks like an elephant to me.

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