Albert Moore Shells

Albert Moore ShellsAlbert Moore MidsummerAlbert Moore Idyll
want me to do next, sir?'
'Send them out in squads, sergeant. At least one human, one dwarf and one troll in each.'
'Yessir. What'll they be doing, sir?'
'They'll be being 'I know. It's not right. People ought to think for themselves, Captain Vimes says. The problem is, people only think for themselves if you tell them to. How do you spell "eventuality"?'
'I don't.'
'OK.' Carrot still didn't look around. 'We'll hold the city togethvisible, sergeant.''Right, sir. Sir? One of the volunteers just now . . . it's Mr Bleakley, sir. From Elm Street? He's a vampire, well. technic'ly, but he works up at the slaughterhouse so it's not really—''Thank him very much and send him home, sergeant.'Colon glanced at Angua.'Yessir. Right,' he said reluctantly. 'But he's not a problem, it's just that he needs these extra homogoblins in his bio—''No!''Right. Fine. I'll, er, I'll tell him to go away, then.'Colon shut the door. The hinge leered.'They call you sir,' said Angua. 'Do you notice that?'