Jack Vettriano A Test of True Love

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can we get out?' said Glod. 'Every time they see us they force us to play some more!'
Hibiscus shrugged. 'I don't care,' he said. 'But you owe me a dollar for the beer and twenty‑five dollars for the broken furniture–'
Cliff shut the door.
'I could negotiate with him,' said Glod.
'No, we can't afford it,' said Buddy.
They looked at one up the rest of the bottle, 'we all knew what to play?'
'Gook.'
'And also,' said Glod, 'what you were singing.'
'Er...
'"Don't Tread On My New Blue Boots"?' said Cliff. 'Gook.'
'"Good Gracious Miss Polly"?' said Glod.
'Er...'
'"Sto Helit Lace"?' said Cliff.another.'Well, the crowd loved us,' said Buddy. 'I think we were a big success. Er.'In the silence Cliff bit the end off a beer bottle and poured the contents we all want to know is,' said Glod, 'what you thought you were doing out there?''Gook.''And how come,' said Cliff, crunching

Jack Vettriano Games of Power

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'Adrian Turnipseed, Archchancellor.'
'So why're you called Big Mad Drongo, Mr Turnipseed?' said Ridcully.
'Um . . . um . . .'
'He once drank a Mended Drum beer tankard with a beer mat fastened over the top with a piece of string.
'What have you got in there, Archchancellor?' said Ponder Stibbons.
'A piece of music, lad.'
'Music? But you can't trap music like that.'
‘I wish I was a clever bugger like you and knew every damn thing,' said Ridcully. 'That big flask over there . . . You ‑ Big Mad Adrian ‑take the top off it, and be ready to slam it down again when I say. Ready with that lid, Mad Adrian . . . right!'
There was a brief angry chord as Ridcully pulled the beer mat off the mug and upended a whole pint of shandy,' said Stibbons, who had the decency to look embarrassed.Ridcully gave him a carefully blank look. Oh, well. They'd have to do.'All right, you lot,' he said, 'what do you make of this?'He produced from his robe

Alphonse Maria Mucha JOB

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squeaking under his breath.
Susan looked at it, too. There was no doubt that all the sand was in the bottom bulb. But something else had filled the top and was pouring through the pinch. It was pale blue and coiling in frantically on itself, like excited smoke.
'Have you ever seen anything like it?' she said.
SQUEAK.strange dimension.
She'd wanted to save his life, and that was right. She knew it. As soon as she'd seen his name she . . . well, it was important. She'd inherited some of Death's memory. She couldn't have met the boy, but perhaps he had. She felt that the name and the face had established themselves so deeply in her mind now that the rest of her thoughts were forced to orbit them.
Something else had saved him first.
She held the lifetimer up to her ear again.'Nor me.'Susan stood up. The shadows around the walls, now that she'd got used to them, seemed to be of things ‑not exactly machinery, but not exactly furniture either. There had been an orrery on the lawn at the college. The distant shapes put her in mind of it, although what stars it measured in what dark courses she really couldn't say. They seemed to be projections of things too strange even for this

Franz Marc Tiger

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'Llicence?' said Imp.
'Very hot on licences, the Guild of Musicians,' said Nobby. 'They catch you playing music without a licence, they take your instrument and they shove–’
'Now, now,' said were very law‑abiding.
‘I shallll go there directlly,' he said.
The guards watched him go.
'He's wearing a nightdress,' said Corporal Nobbs.
‘Bardic robe, Nobby,' said Sergeant Colon. The guards strolled onwards. 'Very bardic, the Llamedese.'
'How long d'you give him, sarge?'the other watchman. 'Don't go scaring the boy.''Let's just say it's not much fun if you're a piccolo player,' said Nobby.'But surelly music is as free as the air and the sky, see,' said Imp.'Not round here it's not. Just a word to the wise, friend,' said Nobby.'I never ever heard of a Guilld of Musicians,' said Imp.'It's in Tin Lid Alley,' said Nobby. 'You want to be a musician, you got to join the Guild.'Imp had been brought up to obey the rules. The Llamedese

George Frederick Watts Orpheus and Eurydice detail

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someone who'd discovered that the instrument didn't just have three keyboards but a whole range of special acoustic effects, ranging from Flatulence to Humorous Chicken Squawk. The occasional 'oook!' of appreciation could be heard amidst the sonic explosion.
Somewhere under the table, Vimes screamed at Ridcully: 'Amazing! Who built it!'
'I don't know! But it's got the name B.S. Johnson on the keyboard cover!'
There was a descending wail, one last Hurdy-Gurdy Effect, and then silence.
'Twenty minutes those lads were pumping up the reservoirs,' said Ridcully, dusting himself off as he stood op. 'Go easy on the Vox Dei stop, there's a good chap!'
'Ook!'
The Archchancellor turned back to Vimes, who was wearing the standard waxen pre-nuptial grimace. The hall was filling up ?'
'Oh, yes,' said the Dean, who'd spent all the previous day with Lady Deirdre Waggon's Book of Etiquette. 'She's got to marry someone once she's turned up. You can't have unmarried brides flapping around the place, being a danger to society.'
'I completely forgot about a best man!' said Vimes.quite well now.'I'm not an expert on this stuff,' he said, 'but you've got the ring, have you?''Yes.''Who's giving away the bride?''Her Uncle Lofthouse. He's a bit gaga, but she insisted.''And the best man?''What?''The best man. You know? He hands you the ring and has to marry the bride if you run away and so on. The Dean's been reading up on it, haven't you, Dean
The Librarian, who'd given up on the organ