I don’t want a perfectly safe weapon. I want a dangerous weapon that hurts people.” He took the stick from her, rapped it against her head. She howled and he nodded. “See? It hurts people.

It's a white-knuckle roller-coaster ride.

Tides do what tides do – they turn.

We live in a time of fear," Skulduggery said, "where we're too scared of upsetting the status quo to ask the questions we need to be asking.

He could wear hats. He could wear an assortment of hats of different shapes and styles. Boater hats, cowboy hats, bowler hats. The list went on. Pork-pie hats, bucket hats, trillbies and panamas. Top hats, straw hats, trapper hats. Wide brim narrow brim, stingy brim. He could wear a fez. Fezzes were cool. Hadn't someone once said that fezzes were cool? He was pretty aur ether had. And they were. They were cool.

You have no idea about presents or what they mean. The last present you gave me was a stick.” “You wanted a weapon.” “It was a stick.” “It had a bow on it.” “It was a stick.” “I thought you liked the stick. You laughed.

We're not really intruding," he called down. "This is all a big misunderstanding." "Stop right there!" shouted one of them. Skulduggery held his hand to an ear he didn't have. "What's that?" "Stop!" "Keep going?" "STOP!" "OK, we'll keep going.