Going Postal Page #3

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Ah, it doesn't look

in bad shape at all. (CHUCKLES)

This is not the Post Office.

That is.

"No glom of nit

can stay these mes

engers abot their duty."

What the hell does that mean?

lt means, you have work to do.

Really. Where do they find them?

We should be, er,

going now, Reacher.

Have you seen this, Horsefry?

lt looks likes some other fool

has been suckered in

to running the Post Office.

lf we're late for Vetinari,

we'll be in big trouble.

Oh.

Remind me to look

appropriately scared.

(DOOR CREAKS)

They can't expect me

to fix this on my own.

Oh! You won't be on your own, sir.

(LAUGHS)

(CLEARS THROAT)

Groat, sir, junior postman Groat.

One word from you, sir,

and l will. .. (COUGHS)

l will leap into action.

Junior postman Groat?

lndeed, sir, yes -

it should be senior,

but nobody's ever stayed

long enough to promote me.

And you are it?

Oh, no, sir, that would be

ridiculous. No, no.

Well, l want to meet

my entire staff.

Oh, certainly, l'll take you

straight to him, sir.

Come this way.

(LAUGHS)

Stanley!

Mr Lipwig, the new postmaster.

Oh.

Oh, l see you know something

about pins, Stanley.

No, sir.

l know everything about pins.

Last year,

the pinneries of Ankh-Morpork

turned out 27,880,972 pins.

Born in the sorting room, sir.

Learned to read from envelopes.

We did our best for him,

but he's a bit "return to sender",

if you know what l mean.

That includes wax-headed, steels,

brasses, silver-headed,

extra-large...

..and novelty.

Yes.

l saw a magazine about this once.

Pins Monthly?

(SLAMS BOOK SHUT)

That rag is for hobbyists.

True pinheads only read Total Pins.

Ah. Erm, will you be staying down

here with us, sir?

(LAUGHS) No, no. l was told

there's an official apartment.

Oh, you want to stay there?

There is the hat, too, sir.

The hat of office. (LAUGHS)

Ah!

Ah, ha-ha. Magnificent.

(SPlTS)

(CLEARS THROAT)

lt's magnificent, isn't it, sir?

You don't seriously expect me

to put that on my head?

lt's a time-honoured tradition, sir,

and it must sit

on the postmaster's head.

Get off me!

Sit with dignity.

Stop it, Mr Groat! Enough!

This is going straight

to the city dump.

(SOUND OF DESPAlR) We expected more

keenness from the postmaster.

Keenness?

Like him and his pins.

Keenness beyond the bounds of sanity.

Perhaps, if you'd been a bit more

keen about being postmen,

we wouldn't have a million letters

stuck out there.

l don't think l like him, Mr Groat.

(SCOFFS) Don't worry, Stanley,

he won't be here long.

The problem is, Mr Gilt,

since you acquired the clacks,

breakdowns have increased.

The speed of messages has slowed

and the cost to customers has risen.

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