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320 pages, Paperback
First published June 15, 2009
In an unprovoked act of self-defense, the off-worlder scum turned on our friendly and entirely non-genocidal army. The dirty foe fought unreasonably for their lives, and urgently the splendid General Wikwot ordered our reserves under noble-born Colonel Vock to attack from the north and mercilessly butcher the enemy—for their own good, of course.This next one had a very Monty Pythonesque feel to it that is never a bad thing in my eyes.
You’re a disgrace! Our noble house has lost respect. Peasants laugh at our army. Even your concubines have sodded off. You’re not setting foot in this house until you’ve gone down to the temple, said sorry and committed ritual suicide. Not a foot!Finally, there is a lot of casual, misdirection phrasing that I am a fan of and that Toby Frost uses to great effect. For example: “‘But ask yourself this: can we leave a woman to die at the hands of Ghastist thugs?’
‘I have several of Miss Tuppence’s records. If possible, I should like to get a souvenir from her.’ ‘Oh?’ Smith said, remembering the sort of souvenirs that grinned from Suruk’s mantelpiece.***
‘That was interesting,’ he said. ‘I got Lily Tuppence’s autograph, and she got to keep her skull.’***
'This is me, cold, in a metal bikini. If I’d have wanted a piece of chain up my ass I’d have sat on a bathplug.***
‘Suruk,’ he said, ‘would you mind accompanying Rhianna and Carveth? This place is full of disreputable men.’ ‘I shall protect them from her,’ Suruk promised. ‘Perhaps I shall pick up some fishnets in the process.’***
‘Give me only a needle and thread,’ Suruk said. ‘I have acquired holes.’