Knatchbull Harrington is the music critic for the acclaimed Ankh-Morpork Times, and is a man to whom the word 'poetry' comes easily. And, it seems, the words 'ethereal', 'fortitude', 'silken prose' and 'heavenly'. He dresses predominantly in rather effeminate purple silk shirts, and, like a certain Mr Nutt, is prone to leaving the poetry tap running and absent-mindedly going on holiday. He is disliked somewhat by the chief sub-editor, Bugsy, who is of the opinion that a daffodil is a daffodil, and no amount of mincing it up is going to impress anyone. Indeed, if William de Worde had not stopped him, he would have applied his red pencil to the following draft, concerning the goblin Tears of the Mushroom's harp performance in Snuff:
Whence came it, that ethereal music, from what hidden grot or secret cell? From what dark cave? From what window into paradise? We watched the tiny figure under the spotlight and the music poured over us, sometimes soothing, sometimes blessing, sometimes accusing. Every one of us confronting ghosts, demons and old memories. The recital by Tears of the Mushroom, a young lady of the goblin persuasion, took but half an hour or, perhaps, it took a lifetime, and then it was over, to a silence which spread and grew and expanded until at last it exploded. Every single patron standing and clapping their hands raw, tears running down their faces. We had been taken somewhere and brought back and we were different people, longing for another journey into paradise, no matter what hell we had to atone for on the way.
Or, as Bugsy- a man who is decidedly more aware of the article size/money ratio- would have put it: It was good.