There's a name for people with an interest in the moon," Alex said. "They're called lunatics.

Oh-do be careful with that! That's my Buddha hand grenade. Twist the head twice and throw it and anyone within ten yards can say their prayers.

…my life has been a remarkable one. Maybe one day someone will write a book about me . . .” "I’ve never much cared for horror stories.

Death is the same for the one who dies.

Alan Blunt got in touch with me and asked me to put you up here for the rest of the week, to pretend that you're my son. I have to say, you don't look anything like me." "I don't look anything like myself either," Alex said.

You couldn't trust anyone or anything that belonged to the world of espionage.

It is, of course, traditional in children's literature to get rid of the parents.