It's a metaphor of human bloody existence, a dragon. And if that wasn't bad enough, it's also a bloody great hot flying thing.

'Have another drink, not-Corporal Nobby?' said Sergeant Colon unsteadily.
'I do not mind if I do, not-Sgt Colon,' said Nobby.
The joys of working undercover.

'E's fighting in there!' he stuttered, grabbing the captain's arm.
'All by himself?' said the captain.
'No, with everyone!' shouted Nobby, hopping from one foot to the other.
Making Friends and Hitting People.

'Pour encourjay lays ortras.'

'This is Lord Mountjoy Quickfang Winterforth IV, the hottest dragon in the city. It could burn your head clean off.'
Captain Vimes addresses a band of rioters.

A good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read.

There was a thoughtful pause in the conversation as the assembled Brethren mentally divided the universe into the deserving and the undeserving, and put themselves on the appropriate side.
The Unique and Supreme Lodge of the Elucidated Brethren see the light.

All dwarfs have beards and wear up to twelve layers of clothing. Gender is more or less optional.

All dwarfs are by nature dutiful, serious, literate, obedient and thoughtful people whose only minor failing is a tendency, after one drink, to rush at enemies screaming 'Arrrrrrgh!' and axing their legs off at the knee.

People who are rather more than six feet tall and nearly as broad across the shoulders often have uneventful journeys. People jump out at them from behind rocks then say things like, 'Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.'
Carrot travels to Ankh-Morpork

He nodded to the troll which was employed by the Drum as a splatter.
[ footnote: Like a bouncer, but trolls use more force. ]

It was possibly the most circumspect advance in the history of military manoeuvres, right down at the bottom end of the scale that things like the Charge of the Light Brigade are at the top of.
The City Watch swings into action.

Lady Ramkin's bosom rose and fell like an empire.

The three rules of the Librarians of Time and Space are:

1) Silence;
2) Books must be returned no later than the date last shown; and
3) Do not interfere with the nature of causality.

A number of religions in Ankh-Morpork still practiced human sacrifice, except that they didn't really need to practice any more because they had got so good at it. City law said that only condemned criminals should be used, but that was all right because in most of the religions refusing to volunteer for sacrifice was an offence punishable by death.

Thunder rolled. ... It rolled a six.

'Right, you bastards, you're... you're geography'

'[...] a number of offences of murder by means of a blunt instrument, to whit, a dragon, and many further offences of generalized abetting [...]'

Anyone in baggy trousers and a white face who tried to ply their art anywhere within Ankh's crumbling walls would very quickly find themselves in a scorpion pit, on one wall of which was painted the advice: 'Learn The Words'.
Anyone who hates mimes can't be all bad...

The gutters of the city gurgled softly as the detritus of the night was carried along, in some cases protesting feebly.

He couldn't help remembering how much he'd wanted a puppy when he was a little boy. Mind you, they'd been starving -- anything with meat on it would have done.
Aaaah.............memories of childhood.

And when the Patrician was unhappy, he became very democratic. He found intricate and painful ways of spreading that unhappiness as far as possible.

The Patrician didn't believe in unnecessary cruelty.
[ footnote: While being bang alongside with the idea of necessary cruelty, of course.]

"He says, Don't you worry about Thieves' Guilds, This is all what you have to do, you walk along the Streets at Night, shouting, It's Twelve O'clock and All's Well.
I said, What if it is not all well, and he said, You bloody well find another street."
On-the-job-training in Night Watchery.

The only light was a faint octarine glitter from the tiny windows of the new High Energy Magic building, where keen-edged minds were probing the very fabric of the universe, whether it liked it or not.

The Patrician was not a man you shook a finger at unless you wanted to end up being able to count only to nine.

"Corporal Nobbs," he rasped, "why are you kicking people when they're down?"
"Safest way, sir," said Nobby.
Making Friends and Hitting People.

They felt, in fact, tremendously bucked-up, which was how Lady Ramkin would almost certainly have put it and which was definitely several letters of the alphabet away from how they normally felt.

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