you know.’
The Archchancel or glanced up at the mistletoe, gave the beaming man a sharp look,
and opened the little hatch in the door.
‘Wel , now, wassailing you fel ows-‘ he began. ‘Oh. Wel , I must say you might’ve
picked a better time . . .’
A hooded figure stepped through the wood of the door, carrying a limp bundle over
its shoulder.
The Senior Wrangler stepped backwards quickly.
15 The ceremony still carries on, of course. If you left off traditions because you didn’t know why they started you’d be no better than a foreigner.
‘Oh … no, not tonight . . .’
And then he noticed that what he had taken for a robe had lace around the bottom,
and the hood, while quite definitely a hood, was nevertheless rather more stylish than
the one he had first mistaken it for.
‘Putting down or taking away?’ said Ridcul y.
Susan pushed back her hood.
‘I need your help, Mr Ridcul y,’ she said.
‘You’re . . . aren’t you Death’s granddaughter?’ said Ridcul y. ‘Didn’t I meet you a few-
–”Yes,’ sighed Susan.
‘And … are you helping out?’ said Ridcul y. His waggling eyebrows indicated the
slumbering figure over her shoulder.
‘I need you to wake him up,’ said Susan.
‘Some sort of miracle, you mean?’ said the Senior Wrangler, who was a little behind.
‘He’s not dead,’ said Susan. ‘He’s just resting.’
‘That’s what they al say,’ the Senior Wrangler quavered.
Ridcul y, who was somewhat more practical, lifted the oh god’s head. There was a
groan.
‘Looks a bit under the weather,’ he said.
‘He’s the God of Hangovers,’ said Susan. ‘The Oh God of Hangovers.’
‘Real y?’ said Ridcul y. ‘Never had one of those myself. Funny thing, I can drink al
night and feel as fresh as a daisy in the morning.’
The oh god’s eyes opened. Then he soared
towards Ridcul y and started beating him on the chest with both fists.
‘You utter, utter bastard! I hate you hate you hate you hate you-‘
His eyes shut, and he slid down to the floor.
‘What was al that about?’ said Ridcul y.
‘I think it was some kind of nervous reaction,’ said Susan diplomatical y. ‘Something
nasty’s happening tonight. I’m hoping he can tel me what it is. But he’s got to be able
to think straight first.’
‘And you brought him here?’ said Ridcul y.
HO. HO. HO. YES INDEED, HELLO, SMALL CHILD CALLED VERRUCA LUMPY,
WHAT A LOVELY NAME, AGED SEVEN, I BELIEVE? GOOD. YES, I KNOW IT DID.
ALL OVER THE NICE CLEAN FLOOR, YES. THEY DO, YOU KNOW. THAT’s ONE
OF THE THINGS ABOUT REAL PIGS. HERE WE ARE, DON’T MENTION IT. HAPPY
HOGSWATCH AND BE GOOD. I WILL KNOW IF YOU’RE GOOD OR BAD, YOU
KNOW. HO. HO. HO.
‘Wel , you brought some magic into that little life,’ said Albert, as the next child was
hurried away.
IT’S THE EXPRESSION ON THEIR LITTLE FACES I LIKE, said the Hogfather.
‘You mean sort of fear and awe and not knowing whether to laugh or cry or wet their
pants?’
YES. NOW THAT IS WHAT I CALL BELIEF.
The oh god was carried into the Great Hal and laid out on a bench. The senior
wizards gathered round, ready to help those less fortunate than themselves remain
that way.
‘I know what’s good for a hangover,’ said the Dean, who was feeling in a party mood.
They looked at him expectantly.
‘Drinking heavily the previous night!’ he said.
He beamed at them.
‘That was a good word joke,’ he said, to break the silence.
The silence came back.
‘Most amusing,’ said Ridcul y. He turned back and stared thoughtful y at the oh god.
‘Raw eggs are said to be good—-‘ he glared at the Dean ‘-I mean bad for a
hangover,’ he said. ‘And fresh orange juice.’
– ‘Klatchian coffee,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, firmly.
‘But this fel ow hasn’t just got his hangover, he’s got everyone’s hangover,’ said
Ridcul y.
‘I’ve tried it,’ mumbled the oh god. ‘It just makes me feel suicidal and sick.’
‘A mixture of mustard and horseradish?’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘In
cream, for preference. With anchovies.’
‘Yoghurt’ said the Bursar.
Ridcul y looked at him, surprised.
‘That sounded almost relevant,’ he said. ‘Wel done. I should leave it at that if I were
you, Bursar. Hmm. Of course, my uncle always used to swear at Wow-Wow Sauce,’
he added.
‘You mean swear by, surely?’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
‘Possibly both,’ said Ridcul y. ‘I know he once drank a whole bottle of it as a
hangover cure and it certainly seemed to cure him. He looked very peaceful when they
came to lay him out.’
‘Wil ow bark’ said the Bursar.
‘That’s a good idea,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘It’s an analgesic.’
‘Real y? Wel , possibly, though it’s probably better to give it to him by mouth,’ said
Ridcul y. ‘I say, are you feeling yourself, Bursar? You seem somewhat coherent.’
The oh god opened his crusted eyes.
‘Wil al that stuff help?’ he mumbled.
‘It’l probably kil you,’ said Susan.
‘Oh. Good.’
‘We could add Englebert’s Enhancer,’ said the Dean. ‘Remember when Modo put
some on his peas? We could only manage one each!’
‘Can’t you do something more, wel , magical?’ said Susan. ‘Magic the alcohol out of
him or something?’
‘Yes, but it’s not alcohol by this time, is it?’ said Ridcul y. ‘It’l have turned into a lot of
nasty little poisons al dancin’ round on his liver.’
‘Spold’s Unstirring Divisor would do it,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘Very
simply, too. You’d end up with a large beaker ful of al the nastiness. Not difficult at al ,
if you don’t mind the side effects.’
‘Tel me about the side effects,’ said Susan, who had met wizards before.
‘The main one is that the rest of him would end up in a somewhat larger beaker,’ said
the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
‘Alive?’
The Lecturer in Recent Runes screwed up his face and waggled his hands. ‘ Broadly,
yes,’ he said. ‘Living tissue, certainly. And definitely sober.’
‘I think we had in mind something that would leave him the same shape and stil
breathing,’ said Susan.
‘Wel , you might’ve said . . .’
Then the Dean repeated the mantra that has had such a marked effect on the
progress of knowledge throughout the ages.
‘Why don’t we just mix up absolutely everything and see what happens?’ he said.
And Ridcul y responded with the traditional response.
‘It’s got to be worth a try,’ he said.
The big glass beaker for the cure had been placed on a pedestal in the middle of the
floor. The wizards liked to make a ceremony of everything in any case, but felt
instinctively that if they were going, to cure the biggest hangover in the world it needed
to be done with style.
Susan and Bilious watched as the ingredients were added. Round about halfway the
mixture, which was an orange-brown colour, went gloop. ‘Not a lot of improvement, I
feel,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
Englebert’s Enhancer was the penultimate ingredient. The Dean dropped in a
greenish bal of light that sank under the surface. The only apparent effect was that it
caused purple bubbles to creep over the sides of the beaker and drip onto the floor.
‘That’s it?’ said the oh god.
‘I think the yoghurt probably wasn’t a good idea,’ said the Dean.
‘I’m not drinking that,’ said Bilious firmly, and then clutched at his head.
‘But gods are practical y unkil able, aren’t they?’ said the Dean.
‘Oh, good,’ muttered Bilious. ‘Why not stick my legs in a meat grinder, then?’
‘Wel , if you think it might help—‘
‘I anticipated a certain amount of resistance from the patient,’ said the
Archchancel or. He removed his hat and fished out a smal crystal bal from a pocket in
the lining. ‘Let’s see what the God of Wine is up to at the moment, shal we? Shouldn’t
be too difficult to locate a funloving god like him on an evening like this . . .’
He blew on the glass and polished it. Then he brightened up.
‘Why, here he is, the little rascal! On Dunmanifestin, I do believe. Yes … yes …
reclining on his couch, surrounded by naked maenads.’
‘What? Maniacs?’ said the Dean.
‘He means … excitable young women,’ said Susan. And it seemed to her that there
was a general ripple of movement among the wizards, a sort of nonchalant drawing
towards the glittering bal .
‘Can’t quite see what he’s doing said
Ridcul y.
‘Let me see if I can make it out,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies hopeful y.
Ridcul y half turned to keep the bal out of his reach.
‘Ah., yes,’ he said. ‘It looks like he’s drinking . . . yes, could very wen be lager and