It showed that someone had been battering it. Vimes liked to see a bit of battered armour around the place. Vimes found it better to look at Authority for orders and then filter those orders through a fine mesh of common sense, adding a generous scoop of creative misunderstanding and maybe even incipient deafness if circumstances demanded, because Authority rarely descended to street level. But coppering depends on people believing you’re a copper.’ (NW) ‘…it’s even easier to be a crook when no one knows you’re a crook, haha. Policemen, after a few years, found it hard enough to believe in people, let alone anyone they couldn’t see. Among the city’s bone orchards the cemetery was the equivalent of the drawer marked Misc, where people were interred in the glorious expectation of nothing very much. They’d gone through life being amiably uncertain, until the ultimate certainty had claimed them at the last.
They didn’t know what they believed in or if there was life after death and, often, they didn’t know what hit them. The cemetery of Small Gods was for people who didn’t know what happened next. He hated being thought of as one of those people that wore stupid ornamental armour. It showed that he was annoying the rich and arrogant people who ought to be annoyed.
It wasn’t that he’d liked being shot at by hooded figures in the temporary employ of his many and varied enemies, but he’d always looked at it as some kind of vote of confidence.
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