Monstrous Regiment/Quotes

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Jackrum: "Upon my oath, I am not a violent man."

Let’s see, now ... arms out from the body as though holding a couple of bags of flour ... check. Shoulders swaying as though she was elbowing her way through a crowd ... check. Hands slightly bunched and making rhythmical circling motions as though turning two independent handles attached to the waist ... check. Legs moving forward loosely and apelike ... check ... It worked fine for a few yards until she got something wrong and the resultant muscular confusion somersaulted her into a holly bush.

The place was one of those nowhere villages that existed only in order to avoid the embarrassment of having large empty spaces on the map.

Vimes: "Do you think it’s possible for an entire nation to be insane? Not the people, the nation. ... Look, you know what I mean. You take a bunch of people who don’t seem any different from you and me, but when you add them all together you get this sort of huge raving maniac with national borders and an anthem."

Vimes: "What’s abominable about the colour blue? It’s just a colour! The sky is blue!" Chinny: "Yes, sir. Devout Nugganites try not to look at it these days."

Vimes: "So what we have here is a country that tries to run itself on the commandments of a god who, the people feel, may be wearing his underpants on his head. Has he Abominated underpants?" Chinny: 'No, sir. But it’s probably only a matter of time."

"Whoms" were likely to be far more trouble than your common everyday "who".

Maladicta: “And one more thought for you, if you’ve got room. I’ve only taken a pledge not to drink human blood. It doesn’t mean I can’t kick you in the fork so hard you suddenly go deaf.”

It was very patriotic. That is, it talked about killing foreigners.

The four lesser apocalyptical horsemen of Panic, Bewilderment, Ignorance, and Shouting took control of the room.

"Look after your mates. And keep out of the way of officers, ’cos they ain’t healthy. That’s what you learn in the army. The enemy dun’t really want to fight you, ’cos the enemy is mostly blokes like you who want to go home with all their bits still on. But officers’ll get you killed.”

Polly had been soldiering for only a couple of days, but already an instinct had developed. In summary, it was this: lie to officers.

Maladicta: “Please pay attention. I am a reformed vampire, which is to say, I am a bundle of suppressed instincts held together with spit and coffee. It would be wrong to say that violent, tearing carnage does not come easily to me. It’s not tearing your throats out that doesn’t come easily to me. Please don’t make it any harder.”

It took a special kind of man, she reflected, to cut his sword hand with his own sword.

If you couldn’t trust the government, who could you trust? Very nearly everyone, come to think of it…

A woman always has half an onion left over, no matter what the size of the onion, the dish, or the woman.

There was this about vampires; they could never look scruffy. Instead, they were…what was the word… dishabille. It meant untidy, but with bags and bags of style.

Blouse: “You can’t torture an unarmed man!” Jackrum: “Well, I’m not waiting for him to arm himself, sir! "

It’s hard to be an ornithologist and walk through a wood when all around you the world is shouting: “Bugger off, this is my bush! Aargh, the nest thief! Have sex with me, I can make my chest big and red!”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” “You know, that’s something an Igor should never say."

“Plogviehze!” It meant “The Sun Has Risen! Let’s Make War!” You needed a special kind of history to get all that in one word.

Igorina: “But…our countrywomen? Washing clothes for the enemy?” Polly: “If it’s that or starve, yes. I saw a woman come out carrying a basket of loaves. They say the Keep is full of granaries. Anyway, you sewed up an enemy officer, didn’t you?” Igorina: “That’s different. We are duty bound to thave our fellow ma—person. Nothing has ever been said about his—their underwear.”

Now that she had got over the surprise, there was something offensive about this lack of reaction. It was like someone opening a door just before your battering ram hit it; suddenly you were running through the building and not certain how to stop.

"Wheresoever men are gathered together, someone will find something to ferment in a rubber boot, distill in an old kettle, and flog to his mates. Made from rats, by the smell of it. Ferments well, does your average rat. Fancy a taste?”

Jackrum: “There’s a song. "Twas on a Monday morning, all in the month of May—" Polly: “Then it is about sex. It’s a folk song, it starts with "twas," it takes place in May, QED, it’s about sex. Is a milkmaid involved? I bet she is.” Jackrum: “There could be.” Polly: “Going for to market? For to sell her wares?” Jackrum: “Very likely.” Polly: “O-kay. That gives us the cheese. And she meets, let’s see, a soldier, a sailor, a jolly ploughboy, or just possibly a man clothéd all in leather, I expect? No, since it’s about us, it’s a soldier, right? And since it’s one of the Ins-and-Outs…oh dear, I feel a humorous double-entendre coming on. Just one question: what item of her clothing fell down or came untied?” Jackrum: “Her garter. You’ve heard it before, Perks!” Polly: “No, but I just know how folk songs go. We had folk singers in the lower bar for six months back hom—where I worked. In the end we had to get a man in with a ferret. But you remember stuff…oh, no…” “No, he stole the cheese, didn’t he? As the poor girl was lying there, waiting for her garter to be tied, hem hem, he damn well made off with her cheese, right?" "Fill yer hat with bread, fill yer boots with soup! And steal the cheese, eh, Sarge?” Jackrum: “That’s right. We’ve always been a very practical regiment.”

Blouse: “You took a terrible risk. A battlefield is no place for women.” Polly: “This war isn’t staying on battlefields. At a time like this, a pair of trousers is a girl’s best friend, sir.”

Polly: “The last man out stuck his thumb up and winked. Did you notice him? He wasn’t even wearing an officer’s uniform.” Blouse: “In Ankh-Morpork that means ‘jolly good. In Klatch, I think, it means ‘I hope your donkey explodes.’ ” Polly: “Why’d he want to say jolly good to us?” Shufti: “Or hate our donkey so much?”

It is always upsetting to find that the enemy is as bright as you.

Jackrum: “How many did you spot, Mildred?” General Froc: “That will be ‘General,’ Sergeant. I’m still a general, Sergeant. Or ‘sir’ will do. And your answer is: one or two. One or two.” Jackrum: “And you promoted them, did you, if they was as good as men?” Froc: “Indeed not, Sergeant. What do you take me for? I promoted them if they were better than men.”

Vimes: “Sam Vimes. Special envoy, which is kind of like an ambassador but without the little gold chocolates.” Maladicta: "Vimes the Butcher?" Vimes: "Oh, yes. I’ve heard that one. Your people haven’t really mastered the fine art of propaganda."

Right now, Polly could forgive Ankh-Morpork anything. Someone had found Paul a box of colored chalks.

Anyway, it was the stuff of legends, where accuracy is not required as a major ingredient.

Polly: “Let’s try again, shall we? I said, are you trying to be smart?” Guard: “No, Sergeant!” Polly: " Why not? " Guard: "Huh?" Polly: "If you are not trying to be smart, mister, you’re happy to be stupid! And I’m up to here with stupid, understand?"

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