Category: polly



oliver/ozzer/polly perks

coolcurrybooks: From Monstrous Regiment by Ter…


From Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett:

Polly shivered, and was aware that someone was walking beside her. She looked up and groaned. It was a tall robed figure, with a scythe.
“You’re a hallucination, right?”
“If you’re a hallucination, how do you know that?”
“I’m not going to die, am I? I mean, right now?”


Terry Pratchett’s Monstrous Regiment has got to be one of my favorite books of all time. Polly Perks disguises herself as a boy to join the army, and hilariousness ensues.

The winter setting is a deviation from canon. My best guess is that the scene actually took place in late summer or early fall. But a winter setting provides such a great contrast for the red of her coat, don’t you think?

plintoon: Send in the ‘Mascots’  Maladict, Pol…


Send in the ‘Mascots’  

Maladict, Polly and Igorina from Monstrous Regiment – Terry Pratchett

And a process gif just for fun


“Going to join up, lads?” she said, cheerily.
There was some mumbling on the theme of “yes.”
“Good. Then stand up straight,” said Polly. “Let’s have a look at you. Chins up. Ah. Well done. Shame you didn’t practice walking in trousers, and I notice you didn’t bring an extra pair of socks.”
They stared, mouths open.
“What are your names?” said Polly. “Your real names, please?”
“Er… Rosemary,” one of them began.
“I’m Mary,” said the other. “I heard girls were joining, but everyone laughed, so I thought I’d better pretend to–”
“Oh, you can join as men if you want,” said Polly. “We need a few good men.”
The girls looked at one another.
“You get better swear words,” said Polly. “And the trousers are useful. But it’s your choice.”
“A choice?” said Rosemary.
“Certainly,” said Polly. She put a hand on the shoulder of each girl, winked at Maladicta and added: “You are my little lads – or not, as the case may be – and I will look after… you.”
And the new day was a great big fish.

– on the future |
Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment


Polly decided that she knew enough of the truth to be going on with. The enemy wasn’t men, or women, or the old, or even the dead. It was just bleedin’ stupid people, who came in all varieties. And no one had the right to be stupid.

– Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment


The Duchess was smaller than she’d thought. But if you had to protect it by standing in the doorway with a sword, you were too late. Caring for small things had to start with caring for big things, and maybe the world wasn’t big enough.

– on caring for the small things |
Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment


“Perks!” said Jackrum, as she reached the door. Polly stepped back into the room.
“Yes, sarge?”
“I… expected better of ‘em, really. I thought they’d be better at it than men. Trouble was, they were better than men at being like men. They do say the army can make a man of you, eh? So… whatever it is you are going to do next, do it as you. Good or bad, do it as you. Too many lies and there’s no truth to go back to.”

– do it as you |
Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment


“You’re a liar, sarge,” said Polly. “Best I’ve ever heard. One last lie pays for all! Why not? You could show him the locket. You could tell him about the girl you left behind you…”
Jackrum looked away, but said: “You’re a shining bastard of a thinker, Perks. And where would I get a grand coach, anyway?”
“Oh, sarge! Today? There are… men in high places who’ll give you anything you ask for, right now. You know that. Especially if it means they’d see the back of you. You never put the bite on them for anything much. If I was you, sarge, I’d cash in a few favors while you can. That’s the Ins-and-Outs, sarge. Take the cheese whil eit’s there, ‘cos kissin’ don’t last.”

– on the last lie |
Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment


“I just thought you might want to show someone that locket of yours, sarge,” said Polly cheerfully. “The one round your neck. And don’t glare at me, sarge. Oh, yeah, I could walk away and I’d never be sure, really sure, and maybe you’d never show it to anyone else, ever, or tell them the story, and one day we’ll both be dead and… well, what a waste, eh?”
Jackrum glared.
“Upon your oath, you are not a dishonest man,” said Polly. “Good one, sarge. You told people every day.”
Around them, beyond the dome, the kitchen buzzed with the busyness of women. Women always seemed to be doing things with their hands – holding babies, or pans, or plates, or wool, or a brush, or a needle. Even when they were talking, busyness was happening.
“No one would believe yer,” said Jackrum, at last.
“Who would I want to tell?” said Polly. “And you’re right. No one would believe me. I’d believe you, though.”

– on a truth |
Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment


“For the good of our great countries,” said Heinrich, “it is suggested that we publicly shake the hand of friendship.” He smiled again, or at least allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up.
Because she could think of no other way out, Polly took the huge hand and obediently shook it.
“Oh, ver’ good,” said Otto, grasping his picture box. “I can only take zer vun, of course, because unfortunately I shall have to use flash. Just vun moment…”
Polly was learning that an art form which happens in a fraction of a second nevertheless needs a long time to take place, allowing a smile to freeze into a mad grimace or, in the worst cases, a death rictus. Otto muttered to himself as he adjusted the equipment. Heinrich and Polly maintained the grip and stared at the picture box.
“So,” muttered the Prince, “the soldier boy isn’t a soldier boy. That is your good luck!”
Polly kept her fixed grin. “Do you often menace frightened women?” she said.
“Oh, that was nothing! You are only a peasant girl, after all! What do you know of life? And you showed spirit!”
“Everyone say chiz!” Otto commanded. “Vun, two, three… oh, bug–”
By the time the after-images had died away, Otto was back on his feet again. “Vun day I hope to find a filter zat vorks,” he muttered. “Thank you, everyvun.”
“That was for peace and goodwill between nations,” said Polly, smiling sweetly and letting go of the Prince’s hand. “And this, your highness, is for me…”
Actually, she didn’t kick. Life was a process of finding out how far you could go, and you could probably go too far in finding out how far you could go. But a mere twitch of a leg was enough, just to see the idiot collapse in the ridiculous, knock-kneed, protective crouch.
She marched away, singing inside. This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs.

– on handshakes and other things |
Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment