"What in, the sinks? Where food is prepared?!" He's going to have to leave instructions to have them scrubbed with bleach in the morning. And possibly his eyes, as well. "The paper people!" Having spend centuries in middle management himself, Xel knows how picky and sadistic they can be, and can glory in being, either from the feeling of power it gives them or because of genuinely feeling that it's their job and as much as it's worth to see rules are followed.
He's suddenly right behind Rincewind, the club of his staff digging into the middle of his back, and two fingers pinching his jaw lightly. "This is a lesson, Scraggly-san," Xellos pours a friendly, friendly voice into his ear, "and you do not make the rules." With an upward thrust of his staff, he propels Rincewind over the beach balls and back to the starting point.