Tom Holt
Author of parodic mythopoeic fiction.
'Talking to yourself is a sign of madness. Talking to yourself, dead, is class.' - c. 12
'...and we have already seen how insurance is like a pyramid -
(Huge, incomprehensible, hideously expensive, completely unnecessary and specifically designed only to be of benefit to you once you're dead?)'
'I didn't find out she was actually the Queen of the Fey until some time later. Bit of a shock, but I think we could've made a go of it, if she hadn't been so dead set on wiping out the human race.'
'Vote!' [Saint] George rolled his eyes. 'This is an assassination, not a debating society.' - c. 7
The knight raises both eyebrows, like someone by Burne-Jones who's just trodden on something sharp. 'I am Prince Boamund, eldest son of King -'
'Boamund?'
'That's right,' says the knight, 'Boamund, eldest son of -'
'How do you spell that?'
Boamund looks worried. Where he comes from you can take advanced falconry, or you can take spelling; not both. Guess which one he opted for. - c. 1
[...] the dragon got three cartsful of angry letters from the Pope (which he dismissed as a load of bulls) [...] - c. 4
Boamund scratches his head. Imagine a knight by Alma-Tadema who's somehow managed to fall off the picture and is wondering how to get back in without breaking the glass. - c. 1
'Luck, like a Russian car, generally only works if you push it.'
'In fact, as they will be delighted to tell you, Taunton is no longer a one-horse town
these days,they have a bicycle as well.'
'Jeez, for a superior intelligence, you must be just plain dumb,' he said. - c. 19
Ronnie Bosch sat in his studio, stared long and hard at his drawing board, and groaned.
It was, they told him, all part of a concept which was definitely going to be The Future as far as Hell Holdings was concerned.
For reasons he couldn't quite grasp, but which he couldn't help but feel mildly flattering, they were going to call it EuroBosch. - c. 2
'Like, there's these new fundamentalist religious fanatics, some name like Meek Militant Action. Their aim's to inherit the Earth, provided nobody objects.' - c. 12