At the end of Interesting Times, Rincewind was magically transported to the mysterious island continent of XXXX, also known as Fourecks. Terry points out that it's not a parody of Australia, just a place that resembles it closely...

Once a moderately jolly wizard camped by a dried-up waterhole under the shade of a tree he was completely unable to identify. And he swore as he hacked and hacked at a can of beer, saying "What kind of idiots put beer in tins?"
   By the time he managed to make a hole with a sharp stone the beer came out as high-speed froth, but he fielded as much as he could.

Apart from Aborigine-like indigenous inhabitants who "all think they're in a dream" - tongue-in-cheek reference to the Dreamtime, the cultural name of the Creation myth of the Aborigine people - 'roos, and beer that tastes terrible, Austra... Fourecks is in some sort of trouble. There hasn't been rain in a very long time, and everybody is suffering in consequence in the summer heat (except the beer manufacturers).

*There's a certain type of manager who is known by the call of "My door is always open" and it is probably a good idea to beat yourself to death with your own CV rather than work for him. In Ridcully's case, however, he meant, "My door is always open because then, when I'm bored, I can fire my crossbow right across the hall and into the target just above the Bursar's desk."

Ridcully, the Dean, Ponder and the rest of the humorous wizard crew are meanwhile suffering from an excess of winter - cold, snow, sleet, ice, etc. They discover that there is a window into a summer island in one of the lecturers' rooms. (He'd been missing for quite a while, so they broke down his door out of curiousity.) They take along the housekeeper, who suffers from an excess of gentility, and the Librarian, who's suffering from the 'flu. It's been affecting his morphogenic field, so every time he sneezes he changes shape, usually into a red furry book, or even a red furry deckchair, to blend in with his surroundings. All attempts to find out his name have failed, as this would restore him to his proper shape, and he has no desire to be human again. The Bursar is particularly low in this book; one has to feel sorry for him, working as he does for Ridcully, the boss from hell.

   "I don't want to, you know, make trouble," said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, looking wistfully at the sundrenched beach, "but it's freezing cold in my bedroom and last night there was frost on my eiderdown. I don't see any harm in a quick stroll in the warm."
   "We're here to help the Librarian!" snapped Ridcully. Faint snores were coming from the volume entitled Ook.
   "My point exactly. The poor chap'd be a lot happier in those trees there."
   "You mean we could wedge him in the branches?" said the Archchancellor. "He's still The Story of Ook."

Poor Rincewind. Just as he was about to acquire a plateful of root vegetable, he was shipped off to the Aurient [where the gold comes from - heehee], and then, just as he was about to be made Cohen the barbarian's Grand High Chief Wizzard (or Blob of Swallow Spit: even Cohen sometimes has trouble with the Agatean language), he was shipped off to Fourecks. And now a strange god and his magic kangaroo sidekick have maneouvred him into saving Fourecks, creating patriotic legends along the way. There are take-offs of Ned Kelly, the Man from Snowy River and his mountain horse that could go anywhere, and various other Australian legends whose significance escapes me. Oh yes, and Mad Max, Priscilla and Crocodile Dundee. (Wif Teef 'ike 'iff.) Please be wary of the beer. It bites back.

It's amazing how the Luggage managed to arrive first, trapped underground thousands of years before. The entire book is full of quantum time mix-ups, and yes, the other wizards do arrive. It appears that the magical arrival of the wizards (including Rincewind) caused all the problems with the Wet going away, and now they have to be the solution. Mystical quantum - just what we need... Oh, and the magical kangaroo is named Scrappy. I kid you not.

   'Yes, but they're only trees, Stibbons."
   "Trees need males and females too, sir."
   "They do?"
   "Yes, sir. Sometimes they're different bits of the same tree, sir."
   "What? You sure?"
   "Yes, sir. My uncle grew nuts, sir."
   "Keep it down, boy, keep it down! Mrs Whitlow might hear you!"
   Ponder was taken aback. "What, sir? But ... well ... she is Mrs Whitlow, sir..."
   "What's that got to do with the price of feet?"
   "I mean ... presumably there was a Mr Whitlow, sir?"

   Ridcully's face went wooden for a moment and his lips moved as he tried out various responses. Finally he settled, weakly, for: "That's as may be, but it all sounds pretty mucky to me."
   "I'm afraid that's nature for you, sir."
   "I used to like walking through the woods on a nice spring morning, Stibbons. You mean to say the trees were at it like knives the whole time?"