There was muttering from the defenders. Most of them had a look Vimes recognized, because it was one he was trying to keep off his own face. It was the look of people whose world had suddenly been swept from under them, and now they were trying to tap-dance on quicksand.
He tossed away the stupid pompous megaphone. He cupped his hands. "Some of you know me!" he shouted. "I'm Sergeant Keel, currently in command of the Treacle Mine Road Watch House! And I order you to dismantle this barricade--"
There was a chorus of jeers and one or two badly thrown missiles. Vimes waited, stock-still, until they'd died away. Then he raised his hands again.
"I repeat, I order you to dismantle this barricade." He took a breath, and went on: "And rebuild it on the other side, on the corner with Cable Street! And put up another one at the top of Sheer Street! Good grief, you don't just pile stuff up, for gods' sake! A barricade is something you construct! Who's in charge here?"
There were sounds of consternation behind the overturned furniture, but a voice called out: "You?"
Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
