I had random.org select a page for me today, it decided on page 172.
Generations of soothsayers had met with clients in the little lamp-lit booths that filled the five floors, to share a pot of Timbrel Tea and then read the leaves at the bottom of the cup. Some teas were good for predicting romance or happy turns of fortune; some could help foresee trouble. Others – stronger treas for stronger stomachs – opened the gateways to darker knowledge. The place was no longer licensed for fortune-telling, though Molly had heard rumours that after midnight, the current owners (spectrally pale siblings with a habit of suddenly appearing at your table) would secretly admit local seers and their customers.
Commonly known as ‘That Utter Git’, Sir Willikin is number three in the UCC’s Worst Presidents of All Time hit parade. He controlled the club for four years, with his cronies Lady Gardenia Nanbiter, Incontinence Pance, and Bernard Stiltskin. At a secret meeting it was eventually decided that he had to go. As all Presidents must map at least at least one new world, Sir Willikin was told of a newly discovered stone circle on an unmapped planet. There, he was told, time travelled at a very slow speed compared to Earth. Certain that he and his expedition would be back in time for dinner, Sir Willikin set off. At his departure there was much celebration and a highing of fives.