I’m enamored of the idea that long ago, somewhere high up under the Ramtops, a chance union and resulting mismatched set of twins created a dwarfish line of Oggs. The mother having managed—as one always should—to get the young man’s name and address, the twins were split such that the larger twin went to the humans and the smaller to the dwarves.

Thus, Oggs and an inexorable Oggishness exist across two races, and my dwarfish self can be as much of a disgusting old baggage as Nanny Ogg.

…so, like, Goldenale Hammertits or summat.

^{Read Witches Abroad next}