Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs leaned against a stack of timber and watched a man very carefully painting the name Pride of Ankh-Morpork on the prow of a ship. At some point he'd realize that he'd left out the "e", and they were idly looking forward to this modest entertainment.

"You ever been to sea, sarge?" said Nobby.

"Hah, not me!" said the sergeant. "Don't go flogging the oggin, lad."

"I don't," said Nobby. "I have never flogged my oggin. Never in my life have I flogged my oggin."

"Right."

"I've always been very clean in that respect."

"Except you don't know what flogging the oggin means, do you?"

"No, sarge."

"It means going to sea. When I was a little lad I had this book about this little kid, he turned into a mermaid, sort of thing, and he lived down the bottom of the sea--"

"--the oggin--"

"Right, and it was all nice talking fishes and pink seashells and stuff, and then I went on my holidays to Quirm and I saw the sea, and I thought: here goes, and if our ma hadn't been quick on her feet I don't know what would have happened. I mean, the kid in the book could breathe under the sea, so how was I to know? It's all bloody lies about the sea. It's just all yuk with lobsters in it."

"My mum's uncle was a sailor," said Nobby. "But after the big plague he got press-ganged. Bunch of farmers got him drunk, he woke up next morning tied to a plough."

They lounged some more.

"Looks like we're going to be in a fight, sarge," said Nobby, as the painter very carefully started on the final "k".

"Won't last long. Lots of cowards, the Klatchians," said Colon. "The moment they taste a bit of cold steel they're legging it away over the sand."

Sergeant Colon had had a broad education. He'd been to the School of My Dad Always Said, the College of It Stands to Reason, and was now postgraduate student at the University of What Some Bloke In the Pub Told Me.

"Shouldn't be any trouble to sort out, then?" said Nobby.

"And o'course, they're not the same color as what we are," said Colon. "Well...as me, anyway," he added, in view of the various hues of Corporal Nobbs. There was probably no one alive who was the same color as Corporal Nobbs.

"Constable Visit's pretty brown," said Nobby. "I never seen him run away. If there's a chance of giving someone a religious pamphlet ole Washpot's after them like a terrier."

"Ah, but Omnians are more like us," said Colon. "Bit weird but, basic'ly, just the same as us underneath. No, the way you can tell a Klatchian is, you look an' see if he uses a lot of words beginning with 'al', right? 'Cose that's a dead giveaway. They invented all the words starting with 'al'. That's how you can tell they're Klatchian. Like al-cohol, see?"

"They invented beer?"

"Yeah."

"That's clever."

"I wouldn't call it clever," said Sergeant Colon, realizing too late that he'd made a tactical error. "More luck, I'd say."

"What else did they do?"

"Well, there's..." Colon racked his brains. "There's al-gebra. That's like sums with letters. For...for people whose brains aren't clever enough for numbers, see?"

"Is that a fact?"

"Right," said Colon. "In fact," he went on, a little more assertively now he could see a way ahead, "I heard this wizard down the University say that the Klatchians invented nothing. That was their great contribution to maffs, he said. I said 'What?' an' he said, they come up with zero."

"Dun't sound that clever to me," said Nobby. "Anyone could invent nothing. I ain't invented anything."

"My point exactly," said Colon. "I told him, it was people who invented numbers like four and, and--"

"--seven--"

"--right, who were the geniuses. Nothing didn't need inventing. It was just there. They probably just found it."

"It's having all that desert," said Nobby.

"Right! Good point. Desert. Which, as everyone knows, is basically nothing. Nothing's a natural resource to them. It stands to reason. Whereas we're more civilized, see, and we got a lot more stuff around to count, so we invented numbers. It's like...well, they say the Klatchians invented astronomy--"

"Al-tronomy," said Nobby helpfully.

"No, no...no, Nobby, I reckon they'd discovered they were bound to invent astronomy, 'cos there's bugger all else for them to look at but the sky. Anyone can look at the stars and give 'em names. 's going it a bit to call it inventing, in any case. We don't go around saying we've invented something just because we had a quick dekko at it."

"I heard where they've got a lot of odd gods," said Nobby.

"Yeah, and mad priests," said Colon. "Foaming at the mouth, half of 'em. Believe all kinds of loony things."

They watched the painter in silence for a moment. Colon was dreading the question that came.

"So how exactly are they different from ours, then?" said Nobby. "I mean, some of our priests are--"

"I hope you ain't being unpatriotic," said Colon severely.

"No, of course not. I was just asking. I can see where they'd be a lot worse than ours, being foreign and everything."

"And of course they're all mad for fighting," said Colon. "Vicious buggers with all those curvy swords of theirs."

"You mean, like...they viciously attack you while cowardly running away after tasting cold steel?" said Nobby, who sometimes had a treacherously good memory for detail.

"You can't trust 'em, like I said. And they burp hugely after meals."

"Well...so do you, sarge."

"Yes, but I don't pretend it's polite, Nobby."

"Well, it's certainly a good job there's you around to explain things, sarge," said Nobby. "It's amazing the stuff you know."

"I surprise myself, sometimes," said Colon modestly.

The painter of the ship leaned back to admire his work. They heard him give a heartfelt groan, and both of them nodded in satisfaction.