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There
was
the
pedestal
,
empty
.
There
was
a
cloud
of
marble
dust
over
everything
.
And
striding
out
of
it
,
muttering
to
himself
,
was
Albert
.
The
wizards
at
the
back
of
the
crowd
started
to
have
it
away
as
quickly
and
quietly
as
possible
.
There
wasn
’
t
one
of
them
that
hadn
’
t
,
at
some
time
in
his
jolly
youth
,
put
a
common
bedroom
utensil
on
old
Albert
’
s
head
or
carved
his
name
somewhere
on
the
statue
’
s
chilly
anatomy
,
or
spilled
beer
on
the
pedestal
.
Worse
than
that
,
too
,
during
Rag
Week
when
the
drink
flowed
quickly
and
the
privy
seemed
too
far
to
stagger
.
These
had
all
seemed
hilarious
ideas
at
the
time
.
They
suddenly
didn
’
t
,
now
.
Only
two
figures
remained
to
face
the
statue
’
s
wrath
,
one
because
he
had
got
his
robe
caught
in
the
door
and
the
other
because
he
was
,
in
fact
,
an
ape
and
could
therefore
take
a
relaxed
attitude
to
human
affairs
.
Albert
grabbed
the
wizard
,
who
was
trying
desperately
to
walk
into
the
wall
.
The
man
squealed
.
’
All
right
,
all
right
,
I
admit
it
!
I
was
drunk
at
the
time
,
believe
me
,
didn
’
t
mean
it
,
gosh
,
I
’
m
sorry
,
I
’
m
so
sorry
—
’
’
What
are
you
bleating
about
,
man
?
’
said
Albert
,
genuinely
puzzled
.
’
—
so
sorry
,
if
I
tried
to
tell
you
how
sorry
I
am
we
’
d
—
’
’
Stop
this
bloody
nonsense
!
’
Albert
glanced
down
at
the
little
ape
,
who
gave
him
a
warm
friendly
smile
.
’
What
’
s
your
name
,
man
?
’
’
Yes
,
sir
,
I
’
ll
stop
,
sir
,
right
away
,
no
more
nonsense
,
sir
.
.
.
Rincewind
,
sir
.
Assistant
librarian
,
if
it
’
s
all
right
by
you
.
’
