It seemed to Moist that everyone else who had been chattering away in the vicinity went silent to listen as one person, and he knew that if he intervened at this point things would get worse, and so all he could do was hold his breath, just like everybody else, to see what the solemn country boy would say.
‘Well now, Mister ’ardwick,’ said Simnel, sticking his thumbs into his belt as he always did when broaching long sentences. ‘I think many things are inherently dangerous: such as wizards, and trees. Dangerous things, trees, they could fall down and drop straight on your ’ead without you knowing it. And boats are dangerous an’ all, and other people might be dangerous and you, Mister ’ardwick, you’ve been talking to me for five minutes now, ’oping that a country lad like me might be tempted into saying summat I shouldn’t.
‘So I’ll tell you this: Iron Girder is my machine, I made her, every single bit of her. I tested her and every time I find a way to make her better and safer, I do it. But, oh aye, you, Mister ’ardwick, you might be dangerous! Power is dangerous, all power, yours included, Mister ’ardwick, and the difference is that the power of Iron Girder is controllable whereas you can write whatever you damn well like. Do you think I don’t read? I’ve read the rubbish you spout in your paper and, Mister ’ardwick, a lot of what you write is flamin’ gristle, Mister ’ardwick, total stinking made-up gristle, meant to frighten people who don’t know owt about steam and power and the cosines and the quaderatics and tangents and even the sliding rule … but I hope you enjoy your journey anyway, Mister ’ardwick. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get in t’cab. Oh, and I’ve had Iron Girder up to more than thirty mile an hour and all I got were sunburn. Good day to you, Mister ’ardwick. Enjoy your ride.’
And then, reddening as he registered the hush all around him, Simnel said, ‘Apologies to all the ladies here for my straight language. I do beg your pardon.’
‘No apologies necessary, Mister Simnel,’ called out Sacharissa Cripslock, reporter for the Times. ‘I believe I speak for all the ladies present when I say that we appreciate your candour.’ And since Sacharissa was not only respectable in the same way that other people are religious, but was also invariably armed with highly sharpened pencils, the rest of the crowd suddenly found that they too had the greatest admiration for Mr Simnel and his plain talking.
On board, there were many marvels to show off, including the lavish lavatories, apparently another brainchild of Effie, which came as a surprise even to Moist. He wondered what the press would make of Effie’s gift to railway travel. Sometimes the art editor of the Ankh-Morpork Times could be quite creative.[35]