Category: vetinari

wherehipposdrome: becausebirds: Pretentious F…

wherehipposdrome:

becausebirds:

Pretentious Flamingos.

This implies the existence of non-pretentious flamingos.

Regular

thiswaycomessomethingwicked:

Downey: I’m gonna choose that kid over there as my nemesis. 
Ludo: Who?
Downey: That one.
Ludo: Vetinari?
Downey: You mean Dog-botherer. 
Ludo:
Downey:
Ludo:
Downey:
Ludo: Oh gods.
Downey: IT’S PUNNY 

Regular

Drumknott looked around the office and focused on the slab where the little stone armies were endlessly in combat. “Ah, I see you have won, my lord,” he said.
“Yes, I must make a note of the gambit.”
“But Mr. Gilt, I notice, is not here…”
Vetinari sighed. “You have to admire a man who really believes in freedom of choice,” he said, looking at the open doorway. “Sadly, he did not believe in angels.”


Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“–brings me to my point, Mr. Gilt. The Royal Mint needs an entirely new approach. Frankly, it’s moribund and not at all what we need in the Century of the Anchovy. Yes, there is a way forward. In recent months, Mr. Lipwig’s celebrated stamps have become a second currency in this city. So light, so easy to carry, you can even send them through the mail! Fascinating, Mr. Gilt. At last people are loosening their grip on the idea that money should be shiny. Do you know that a typical one-penny stamp may change hands up to twelve times before being affixed to an envelope and redeemed? What the Mint needs to see it through is a man who understands the dream of currency. There will be a salary and, I believe, a hat.”
You are offering me a job?”
“Yes, Mr. Stippler,” said Vetinari. “And, to show the sincerity of my offer, let me point out the door behind you. If at any time in this interview you feel you wish to leave, you have only to step through it, and you will never hear from me again…”

– on another offer |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“What I truly meant was that a great many people depend on the Trunk for their living. Out of sheer humanitarian considerations, we must do something. Sort things out, Postmaster.”
“But I’m going to have my hands more than full with the Post Office!” Moist protested.
“I hope you are. But, in my experience, the best way to get something done is to give it to someone who is busy,” said Vetinari.

– this is why Ponder Stibbons is so effective |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Moist strolled toward the door, while the hubbub rose, and had almost made it when Lord Vetinari’s voice came out of the throng like a knife.
“Leaving so soon, Mr. Lipwig? Do wait a moment. I shall give you a lift back to your famous Post Office.”
For a moment just a slice of a second, Moist contemplated running. He did not do so. What would be the point?
The crowd parted hurriedly as Lord Vetinari headed toward the door; behind him, the Watch closed in.
Ultimately, there is the freedom to take the consequences.

– on freedom |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“Silence,” said Vetinari.
It wasn’t a very loud word, but it had an effect rather like that of a drop of black ink in a glass of clear water. The word spread out in coils and tendrils, getting everywhere. It strangled the noise.
Of course, there is always someone not paying attention. “And furthermore,” Stowley went on, oblivious to the unfolding hush in his own little world o righteous indignation, “it’s plain that–”
“I will have silence,” Vetinari stated.
Stowley stopped, looked around, and deflated. Silence ruled.

– a request for silence |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“I do hope you know what you are doing. You do know what you are doing, don’t you, Mr. Lipwig?”
“Faith moves mountains, my lord,” said Moist.
“There are a lot of them between here and Genua, indeed,” said Lord Vetinari.

– Havelock could you maybe chill |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Lord Vetinari sat down opposite him, after dusting some ash off a chair.
“You have read this morning’s Times?” he said.
“I was there when it was printed, sir.” Moist’s neck seemed to have developed extra bones. He tried to twist his neck straight.
“Ah, yes. Ankh-Morpork to Genua is about two thousand miles, Mr. Lipwig. And you say you can get a message there faster than the clacks. You have issued that as a challenge. Most intriguing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Even the fastest coach takes almost two months, Mr. Lipwig, and I’m given to understand that if you traveled nonstop your kidneys would be jolted out of your ears.”
“Yes, sir. I know that,” said Moist, yawning.
“It would be cheating, you know, to use magic.”
Moist yawned again. “I know that too, sir.”
“Did you ask the Archchancellor of Unseen University before you suggested that he should devise the message for this curious race?” Lord Vetinari demanded, unfolding the newspaper. Moist caught sight of the headlines:
THE RACE IS ON!
“Flying Postman” vs. Grand Trunk
“No, my lord. I said the message should be prepared by a well-respected citizen of great probity, such as the Archchancellor, sir.”
“Well, he’s hardly likely to say no now, is he?” said Vetinari.
“I’d like to think so, sir. Gilt won’t be able to bribe him, at least.”

– on the race |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Moist stared at the woodwork in front of him. Why is this man ruling just one city? he thought. Why isn’t he ruling the world? Is this how he treats other people? It’s like being a puppet. The difference is, he arranges for you to pull your own strings.

– on Lord Vetinari |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal