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In
fact
some
two
hundred
of
the
Patrician
’
s
guests
were
now
staggering
and
kicking
their
way
through
the
Serpent
Dance
,
a
quaint
Morporkian
folkway
which
consisted
of
getting
rather
drunk
,
holding
the
waist
of
the
person
in
front
,
and
then
wobbling
and
giggling
uproariously
in
a
long
crocodile
that
wound
through
as
many
rooms
as
possible
,
preferably
ones
with
breakables
in
,
while
kicking
one
leg
vaguely
in
time
with
the
beat
,
or
at
least
in
time
with
some
other
beat
.
This
dance
had
gone
on
for
half
an
hour
and
had
wound
through
every
room
in
the
palace
,
picking
up
two
trolls
,
the
cook
,
the
Patrician
’
s
head
torturer
,
three
waiters
,
a
burglar
who
happened
to
be
passing
and
a
small
pet
swamp
dragon
.
Somewhere
around
the
middle
of
the
dance
was
fat
Lord
Rodley
of
Quirm
,
heir
to
the
fabulous
Quirm
estates
,
whose
current
preoccupation
was
with
the
thin
fingers
gripping
his
waist
.
Under
its
bath
of
alcohol
his
brain
kept
trying
to
attract
his
attention
.
’
I
say
,
’
he
called
over
his
shoulder
,
as
they
oscillated
for
the
tenth
hilarious
time
through
the
enormous
kitchen
,
’
not
so
tight
,
please
.
’
I
AM
MOST
TERRIBLY
SORRY
.
’
No
offence
,
old
chap
.
Do
I
know
you
?
’
said
Lord
Rodley
,
kicking
vigorously
on
the
back
beat
.
I
THINK
IT
UNLIKELY
.
TELL
ME
,
PLEASE
,
WHAT
IS
THE
MEANING
OF
THIS
ACTIVITY
?
’
What
?
’
shouted
Lord
Rodley
,
above
the
sound
of
someone
kicking
in
the
door
of
a
glass
cabinet
amid
shrieks
of
merriment
.
WHAT
is
THIS
THING
THAT
WE
DO
?
said
the
voice
,
with
glacial
patience
.
’
Haven
’
t
you
been
to
a
party
before
?
Mind
the
glass
,
by
the
way
.
’
