Feet of Clay

Terry Pratchett, Stephen Briggs

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2015
• Print ISBN:
  9781783191956
• Edition: 1
• eBook ISBN:
  9781783196944
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

Someone is killing Lord Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh- Morpork. No one knows who, no one knows why and, worst of all, no one knows how he just gets weaker and weaker.


But its not just Vetinari across the city, people are being murdered, but theres no trace of anything alive having been at the crime scene. Commander Vimes, Head of the City Watch, is a man who hates clues. He and his team must question everyone the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker. In a city teeming with vampires, werewolves, dwarfs with attitude and golems, Vimes must solve the crimes and save the Patrician.


As all children know, the way you get into a fantasy world is by accident… You go into the wardrobe, looking for somewhere to hide and bingo. And thats how Stephen Briggs found Discworld.


In 1990, he wrote to ask Terry if he could stage Wyrd Sisters. That was the first time anyone, anywhere in the world, had dramatised Terrys work. He had no idea it would go any further than one play (possibly two). But it did. So far, he has now adapted, staged and published twenty-two plays.


He and Terry also worked together to produce the original Discworld Maps and Diaries, Nanny Ogg's Cookbook, The Discworld Companion (now called Turtle RecallThe Wit & Wisdom of Discworld.

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

A bare stage. Thunder. Lightning. Dark, mysterious music. Curtains open to reveal the body of a priest (FATHER TUBELCEK). Centre back – SERGEANT COLON and CORPORAL NOBBS stand on patrol. Citizens move across the stage. A passer-by approaches a ‘seamstress’ in front of the watchmen, they exchange money, link arms and exit. In clear view another passer-by is accosted by a couple of thieves, hands over their cash and jewels and (having been given a receipt), go on their way. No reaction from the watchmen. A mime artist enters and starts to perform; a few people stop and watch. COLON and NOBBS move swiftly across and arrest him. LORD VETINARI and DRUMKNOTT enter. The WATCHMEN advise him of the arrest and he indicates the sentence. The MIME is shoved head first down the trapdoor and it is slammed down after him/her. The curtains close. VETINARI and DRUMKNOTT breeze out. COLON and NOBBY patrol off.

SGT. COLON: Quiet old night Nobby.

NOBBY NOBBS: Certainly is, Sarge.

COLON and NOBBS exit. A golem enters, with another golem (the KING GOLEM), and crosses to a door. He knocks. A man (MR CARRY) enters.

ARTHUR CARRY: Well? What do you want at this time of night?

The golem hands him a slate. He reads, then answers…

Yes, I am Arthur Carry, the candle maker.

He reads on.

‘We Hear You Want A Golem’? Hah. Want, yes. Afford, no.

The golem rubs the words off the slate and writes. The man reads.

‘To You, One Hundred Dollars’. For you? You’re the one that’s for sale?

The golem shakes his head. Another, white, golem enters.

A hundred dollars? What’s wrong with it?

The golem writes again.

‘Ninety Dollars.’ (Pause.) ‘Eighty Dollars.’ It looks…new. But no one’s making golems any more…are they? Sounds like someone wants to get rid of it in a hurry…

More writing.

‘Sixty Dollars’. The priests banned making ’em years ago.

More writing.

‘Thirty Dollars’.

The man hands over some coins.

Done!

The white golem and man go into the house. The other golem exits slowly. VIMES saunters on and is intercepted by SGT COLON, who carries a clipboard.

SGT. COLON: Commander Vimes, sir! Bin a bit of an odd murder, sir. Down in one of them old houses on Misbegot Bridge. Some old priest. Father Tubelcek. Waiting for more details, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: Right, Sergeant. Start looking into it. Anything else?

SGT. COLON: Corporal Nobbs is sick, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: Well, everyone knows that, Fred.

SGT. COLON: I mean off sick, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: Granny’s funeral again?

SGT. COLON: Nossir.

COMMANDER VIMES: How many’s he had this year…?

SGT. COLON: Seven, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: Very odd family, the Nobbses. You and Mrs Colon looking forward to retirement, Fred?

SGT. COLON: (Very unconvincing.) Can’t wait sir. All that fresh air. Exercise. Up to my armpit in livestock…

COMMANDER VIMES: Quite. Anything else?

SGT. COLON: Applicant for that alchemy job.

He calls, off.

In here.

CHEERY enters.

COMMANDER VIMES: So. You’re an alchemist.

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: That’s right, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: Guild member?

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: Not any more, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: Oh? How did you leave the guild?

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: Through the roof, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: Ah, the usual way, eh? What’s your name, lad?

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: (With a sigh.)
Littlebottom, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: (No reaction.) That means you’re from the Überwald mountain area, yes?

CHEERY nods.

Our Constable Angua comes from there. And your first name…?

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: Cheery, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: (Again, no reaction.) Cheery, eh? Good to see the old naming traditions kept up. Cheery Littlebottom. Fine.

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: (Like one niggling at a scab.) Yes, sir. Cheery Littlebottom. My father was Jolly. Jolly Littlebottom.

COMMANDER VIMES: (Stone-faced.) Really?

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: And his father was Beaky Littlebottom.

COMMANDER VIMES: Know anything about dead bodies?

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: Yes, sir!

COMMANDER VIMES: Good. Listen. I know about how to be a copper. But there’s lots of things I don’t know. You fellows know how to mix things up in bowls and can find out all sorts of stuff. Maybe the dead person was poisoned? We need someone who knows what colour a liver is supposed to be. I want someone who can look at the ashtray and tell me what kind of cigars I smoke.

CHEERY LITTLEBOTTOM: Pantweed’s Slim Panatellas. The packet’s in your pocket, sir.

COMMANDER VIMES: OK. I expect you to work to the job not the clock. We’re just one big family and, when you’ve been to a few domestic disputes, Littlebottom, I can assure you that you’ll see the resemblance. Technically you’ll rank as a corporal, only don’t go giving orders to real policemen. You’re on a month’s trial. Now, find an iconograph and m...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Introduction
• Act One
• Act Two