John Constable Wivenhoe Park Essex

John Constable Wivenhoe Park EssexJohn Constable Weymouth BayJohn William Waterhouse Destiny 1900John William Waterhouse The SirenJohn William Waterhouse The Lady Clare
was eight in the morning. A thunderous knocking awoke Bezam Planter, owner of the Odium, one of Ankh-Morpork’s mushrooming crop of moving-picture pits.
He’d had a bad night. The people of Ankh-Morpork liked novelty. The trouble was that they didn’t like novelty for blearily.
‘We’re shut ‘til two o’clock,’ he said. ‘Mat’nee. Come back then. Seats in all parts.’
He slammed the door. It rebounded off Throat Dibbler’s boot and hit Bezam on the nose.
‘I’ve come about the special showing of Sword of Passione,’ said Throat.
‘Special showing? What special showing?’
‘The special showing I’m about to tell you about,’ said Throat.
‘We ain’t showing nothin’ about any special passionate swords. We’re showin’ The long. The Odium had done great business for a week, had broken even for the next week, and was now dying. The late showing last night had been patronized by one deaf dwarf and an orang-utan, who’d brought along its own peanuts. Bezam relied on the sale of peanuts and banged grains for his profit, and wasn’t in a good mood. He opened the door and stared out Exciting–’
‘Mister Dibbler says yore showing Sword of Passione,’ rumbled a voice.