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.

A CD. How quaint. We have these in museums.

Very well. I understand. Just ... shut up!

How did that go?’ he asked. ‘Your first lengthy conversation with a girl your own age?’ ‘Fabulous,’ said Artemis, voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘We’re planning a June wedding.

Satan was crouched in the corner of his office, playing a gameboy, 'Die alien scum' he was saying feverishly.

The miracle of modern science. The LEP pours millions into your department, Foaly, and all you can do is send Mud Boys to the toilet.

Holly winked. 'Do I look like a fly boy to you, Fowl?' Artemis had to admit that she didn't. Captain Short was extremely pretty in a dangerous sort of way. Black-widow pretty. Artemis was expecting puberty to hit in approximately eight months, and he suspected that at that point he would look at Holly in a different light. It was probably just as well that she was eighty years old.