"The Counterweight Continent," said the Lady. "Where five noble families have fought one another for centuries."
  "Really? Which families are these?" said Io. He had little involvement with individual humans. He generally looked after thunder and lightning, so from his point of view the only purpose of humanity was to get wet or, in occasional cases, charred.
  "The Hongs, the Sungs, the Tangs, the McSweeneys and the Fangs."
  "Them? I didn't know they were noble," said Io.
  "They're all very rich and have had millions of people butchered or tortured to death merely for reasons of expediency and pride," said the Lady.
  The watching gods nodded solemnly. That was certainly noble behaviour. That was exactly what they would have done.
  "McFweeneyf?" said Offler.
  "Very old-established family," said Fate.
  "Oh."

I could safely say that Interesting Times is pretty much THE funniest Pratchett tour de force in the whole loooong discworld saga. A message has arrived in Ankh-Morpork - in the Giant Beehive constructed by Bloody Stupid Johnson, in case you were interested - by way of Long-Distance Albatross, all the way from the Agatean Empire (this is getting as bad as "Allo, Allo" and their Long-distance Duck. Oh well). The Agatean Empire occupies the entire expanse of the Counterweight Continent, a sinister-looking comma of land far from anything Morporkia may wot of. But the giant monolithic Empire, the terrifying piece of geographical punctuation - anticlimax there if ever I saw one. Bathos, we call it, just to impress our friends - has turned it's attention towards... {*drumroll, please*}... Rincewind. The Great Wizzard. With two z's, thank-you.

  Ah. So . . . magic armour. Perfectly normal magic armour. It had never been popular in Ankh-Morpork. Of course, it was light. You could make it as thin as cloth. But it tended to lose its magic without warning. Many an ancient lord's last words had been, "You can't kill me because I've got magic aaargh."

Rincewind is hanging out on a deserted island (not desserted, because that means "covered in icecream". Deserted means "no people". You may be astounded as to how many people make that error...). The Luggage spends its days hunting sharks, dragging them ashore and jumping on them. They then disappear with a snap. (I would so love a luggage like that. So many times have I wished it on rude rough-handling baggage attendants. They think Fragile means "Up-end it and stamp on it repeatedly - then drop it. From a high shelf. Ahahahaha"). Rincewind is happy on the island - no stress, no shouting head wizards, no insane escapades undertaken whilst attempting to save the world by accident, etc. Rincewind is enjoying himself. He only misses one thing: brown, golden, soft to the touch... yup. Potatoes. Platefuls of them. [Bathos again. Sound of kooky fanfare.]

  According to the philosopher Ly Tin Wheedle, chaos is found in greatest abundance wherever order is being sought. It always defeats order, because it is better organised.

Well, the Agatean empire - and it's not possible to describe how screamingly funny Pterry's take-off of the Chinese language and the Maoist tradition really is - is in turmoil. It's all due to a little book called What I did on my Holidays. Written by Twoflower, whose delightful ability to get into serious trouble has struck again. The Ankh-Morporkian way of doing things has turned the serious traditions of the empire on it's head. But this suits the Grand Vizier, Lord Hong, of one of Agatea's five great families, the Hongs, Fangs, Sungs, Tangs and MacSweenys (very old-established family). After all, the Revolution may be a bunch of incompetent children putting up posters and chanting mildly insubordinate slogans, but the Counter-Revolution will be swift, ruthless and efficient. And Lord Hong will be Emperor.

  "Then a voice shouted: "Extended Duration To The Red Army!"
  Cries rose up here and there in the crowd. A young woman raised her hand in a clenched fist.
  "Advance Necessarily With The People While Retaining Due Regard For Traditions!"
  Others joined her.
  "Deserved Correction To Enemies!"
  "I've Lost Mr Bunny!"

Everyone has, unfortunately, not counted on the Great Wizzard reappearing, or on Cohen the Barbarian (of such bon mots as "never get into an arse-kicking contest with a porcupine,") and his Silver Horde, who are intent on stealing a great Treasure.