Some day, this will be a "Last.fm/NetFlix/Amazon for web fiction" (both original and fanfiction) where you can search across many different hosting sites or rate what you've read and get recommendations. However, life keeps throwing more urgent projects my way, so I don't know when it'll be ready.
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The squad room of the Psuedopolis Yard City Watch was … a squad room, certainly. It’s sort of the type of place that you expect that the Manchester United football club to come in, sweaty and muggy after a hard day on the pitch, strip out of their kits, take a quick shower and then change into something appropriate for an evening at the Ministry of Sound.
Except that … in Ankh-Morpork you didn’t get designer carpeting. Or flat-screen televisions on the walls. Or fluffy towels. And almost certainly, the unwashed socks of a sweaty, tired group of footballers who had been practicing and playing for five hours in the hot sun and getting muddy smelled much, much better than the Psuedopolis Yard squad room.
What you did get was the result of the Watch – initially being a human male dominated profession – suddenly having to deal with the realities of being an integrated, multiracial workforce. So that meant that certain individuals had to stop stealing the soap (Nobby), and take down the offensive pictures of ladies of questionable virtue (Nobby), start bathing more frequently (Nobby) and oh gods will you stop eating those damned mouse fat-and-garlic fishballs deep fried in lard and served with hot pepper sauce in here? (Nobby).
There were a series of lockers, with curtains so that individuals could change in a relative lack of privacy, and a set of showers, with cold- and cold-running water. Well, it should have been water, but it was sludge from the Ankh that passed through a filter the King of the Golden River had installed. It reacted like water (mostly).
Harry Potter and the Color of Magic, Chapter 8
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