Jack Vettriano Girls' Night

Jack Vettriano Girls' NightJack Vettriano Ghosts From The PastJack Vettriano Games of Power
That had hardly begun to fill the space. After a while he'd added: BORN TO, and left a space because he wasn't quite sure what he'd been born to. BORN TO EAT BIG DINNERS wouldn't be appropriate.
After some more bemused thought he'd gone on to: LIVE FATS DIE YO GNU. It wasn't quite right, he could see; he'd turned the sight, and not just because of the natural look of students. Here were some people who, while this damn music was making everyone tap their feet, had stayed in­doors all night ‑ working.
'What are you lot doing in here?' he said. 'You . . . what's your name?'
The student wizard pinned by Ridcully's pointing finger squirmed anxiously.
'Er. Um. Big Mad Drongo,' he said, twisting the brim of his hat in his hands.
'Big. Mad. Drongo,' said Ridcully. 'That's your name, is it? That's what you've got sewn on your vest?'
'Um. No, Archchancellor.'
'It is...?'material over while he was making the holes for the studs and had sort of lost track of which direction he was going.Of course, it didn't matter which direction you went, just so long as you went. That's what music with rocks in it was all about . . .]. . . 'And Recent Runes is in his room playing drums, and the rest of them have all got guitars, and what the Bursar's done to the bottom of his robe is really strange,' said Ridcully. 'And the Librarian's wandering around the place pinchin' stuff and no‑one listens to a word I say.'He stared at the students. It was a worrying

Henri Matisse Woman with a Hat

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hesitated.
He lowered his hands and pulled out all the rest of the stops, including the twelve knobs with '?' on them and the two with faded labels warning in several languages that they were on no account to be touched, .ever, in any circumstances.
He raised his'Would you believe four beats to the bar, two‑four time, melody led, with the bass beat forward in the melody?'
'What's all dat?' said Lias. 'What's all dem words mean?'
'You're a musician, ain't you?' said Glod. 'What do you think you do?'
'I hits 'em with de hammers,' said Lias, one of nature's drummers.
'But that bit you did . . .' said Imp, 'you know . hands.He raised his feet also, positioning them over some of the more perilous pedals.He shut his eyes.He sat for a moment in contemplative silence, a test pilot ready to slit the edge of the envelope in the starship Melody.He let the plangent memory of the music fill his head and flow down his arms and fill his fingers.His hands dropped.'What did we do? What did we do?' said Imp. Excitement ran its barefoot races up and down his spine.They were sitting in the tiny cramped room behind the bar.Glod took off his helmet and wiped the inside.

Thomas Kinkade San Francisco Lombard Street

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eyes upwards, to the dog that was gripping him.
'Gaspode? Is that you?'
'Yeff,' said Gaspode, his mouth full.
There was hardly any weight to the poodle but, then, there was hardly any weight to Gaspode. He'd darted forward and braced his The gutter creaked again.
It's going to go, he thought. Story of my life . . .
Big Fido struggled around.
'What are you holding me up by?'
'Yer collar,' said Gaspode, through his teeth.legs to take the strain, but there was nothing much to brace them against. He slid down inexorably until his front legs were in the gutter, which began to creak.Gaspode had an amazingly clear view of the street, three storeys down.'Oh, hell!' said Gaspode.Jaws gripped his tail.'Let him go,' said Angua indistinctly.Gaspode tried to shake his head.'Stop ftruggling!' he said, out of the corner of his mouth. 'Brave Dog Faves the Day! Valiant Hound in Wooftop Wefcue! No!'

Pop art art on fire

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, I know it's a bit cheeky,' said Carrot, 'but I've always been very interested in Guild customs . . . so . . . do you think someone could show me your museum?'
'Sorry? What Colon tried to see a message in Carrot's face. He'd got used to simple Carrot. Complicated Carrot was as unnerving as being savaged by a duck.
'We'll, er, we'll just be going, then, shall we?' he said.
'No point in staying here now it's all settled,' said Carrot, mugging museum?''The clown museum?''Oh, you mean the Hall of Faces. That's not a museum. Of course. Nothing secret about it. Boffo, make a note. We'd be happy to show you around any time, corporal.''Thank you very much, Dr Whiteface.'Any time.''I'm just going off duty,' said Carrot. 'Right now would be nice. Since I happen to be here.''You can't go off duty when— ow!' said Colon.'Sorry, sergeant?''You kicked me!''I accidentally trod on your sandal, sergeant. I'm sorry.'

Pop art chuck berry on pink

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Whiteface tried to look panicky, but this did not work very well under a mouth painted into a wide grin.
'What? No! I , Dr Whiteface. I can see this must have been a great strain on you.'
The clown was limp with relief.
'Don't mention it. Don't mention it. Happy to help. I know you have your job to do.'
He ushered them down the stairs and into the courtyard, bubbling with small talk now. The rest of the Watch clanked to attention.
'Actually . . .' said Carrot, just as he was being ushered out of the gate, 'there is one thing you could do.'
'Of course, of course.'mean – if an Assassin broke into our Guild, I mean, not on proper business, and stole something, well, we'd definitely consider we were within our rights to, well—''Pour jelly into his shirt?' said Angua.'Hit him around the head with a bladder on a stick?' said Colon.'Possibly.''Each Guild to their own, of course,' said Carrot. 'I suggest we might as well be going, sergeant. Nothing more for us to do here. Sorry to have troubled you