Onscreen, Foaly rubbed his eyelids with his index fingers. "Yeah, yeah. Here we go. Captain Short goes rogue once more. Hands up who's surprised. Anyone?

I can't imagine what they're planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it, and it won't be legal.

Sig Sauer. Nine millimetres. Thirteen in the magazine. Big bullets. One of these hits you and it could blow your head off; something even the magic can't fix. Other than that you should be all right, presuming you remembered to wear the regulation above-ground micro-fibre jumpsuit recently patented by me. Then again, being a Recon jock, you probably didn't.

Artemis: I am not buoyed by that. Foaly: You are not supposed to be buoyed by that. You are supposed to be equalized. Mulch: I'm pretty sure that both of you just made really horrible jokes. But I'm not sure because I think you broke my funny bone.

Remember this? You gave it to me for ensuring your trigger finger got reattached to your hand. You said it would remind me of that spark of decency inside me. I'm trying to do something decent now, Captain.

When I went to school, I was already reading and writing. In fact, I was offended that the other kids couldn't.

Hit that back-stabber where it hurts, right in the ambition.