"Certainly not!" Rincewind is all indignant now. "Who knows where that food has been!" He gulps. "Do they have...," his voice quavers, "clipboards?!"
"YAART!" Rincewind bleats. He tries to shake his head, but can't. He stumbles and nearly falls, but only one of the beach balls falls. Wincing at the clang, Rincewind hurriedly sets it back in place. He picks up his plate (which he is really starting to hate) and sets it on his head. On the other hand, it's getting easier to balance the wretched thing. Pulling his hat down firmly, he marches through the maze. He's almost, almost to the end, when the plate (quite obviously on purpose) takes a slide off the back of his head before he can catch it. Rincewind sags and his eyes fill with frustrated tears.