The Sheep-Shearer's Arms

"Look!" said Ridcully, "there's a pub just across the street." Yes, looking in the direction he was pointing, they could see an inn sign proclaiming: "The Sheep-Shearer's Arms."

"I could murder a pint," Fred said. "The last one I had was over a year ago."

"They'll probably have chips," Astra said, with an eager look on her face.

"Won't they be bad for your complexion and your figure?" Fred asked.

"I don't care. The last time I had chips was one year, thirty-four days and four hours ago. I didn't miss many things on that island, but I did miss chips."

They were used to seeing many strange sights in the pubs of The Fifth Wheel. Even a man and a woman dressed in full armour and carrying swords, someone who looked to be a cross between a boy and a dog - also wearing armour and carrying a dagger - and an elderly man with the look of a wizard about him, even this strange-looking group didn't attract much interest.

Soon the four were sitting round a table sipping pints of beer. Fred had a plate of steak and chips in front of him, Ridcully had fish and chips, whilst Astra just had the biggest plate of chips that Fred had ever seen. Velus, whose tastes were still a little doggy-like, had a disgusting concoction of meat and dog biscuits. (It was lucky that Fred still had his pack, containing some gold pieces, and that Ridcully too had some money on him.)

1. It was soon time for a second pint, and a third, and a fourth.
2. "Do these chips taste funny to you?" Fred asked Astra. "No," she said, and carried on eating.

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