Let the sky rain potatoes," said a musing voice. "Let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves.

He had electric blue hair that had stuck around his head like tendrils of a startled octopus.

Will interrupted. "Henry," he said, "you're on fire. You do know that, don't you?

If only Simon were here. He could probably bore you to sleep.

Tessa put a hand against the wall as she made her way numbly down the stairs. What had she almost done? What had she nearly told Will?

No one told you to call your band Salacious Mold, my friend." "We're Millennium Lint now," Simon protested

So much saintlike patience cannot be good for anyone.