It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination. NAMED AS ONE OF THE BBC'S 100 MOST INSPIRING NOVELS'It was octarine, the colour of magic. But if the person charged with maintaining that survival in the face of robbers, mercenaries and, well, Death is a spectacularly inept wizard, a little logic might turn out to be a very good idea. Its very existence is about to be threatened by a strange new blight: the arrival of the first tourist, upon whose survival rests the peace and prosperity of the land. Certainly it refuses to succumb to the quaint notion that universes are ruled by pure logic and the harmony of numbers.But just because the Disc is different doesn't mean that some things don't stay the same. Tourist, Rincewind decided, meant idiot.Somewhere on the frontier between thought and reality exists the Discworld, a parallel time and place which might sound and smell very much like our own, but which looks completely different. Twoflower was a tourist, the first ever seen on the Discworld.

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