In Tom Holt's latest mainstream comic fantasy "Nothing But Blue Skies" he manages to offer the reader a biting satire of fierce proportions. What Holt is lampooning in this new annal into the world of Danny Bennett is the climate; the bloody British weather to be exact. We've seen in past Holt volumes his penchant for going on tangents about how much he personally hates the Microsoft computer system, and how similar to a dog's breakfast Australia seems to him, so this time the fact that Britain is eternally accosted with horrendous conditions seems a funny concept to thumb his nose at. It *is*. Hilarious in some respects. In the zany pseudo-Britain of Holt's imagination in "Nothing But Blue Skies", weathermen are reminiscent of biblical-age prophets: people believe they have the ability to control the weather. When a fellow says on TV that he forecasts a shower tomorrow, and there is one, it's bloody well his *fault*. Or so it seems. The guilty parties in fact aren't the benign weathermen at all: Holt blames irritable Chinese Water Dragons, who, with a simple mood-swing can alter a nice, peachy day into a sleet-driven rain bucket. In a world where weather-weary forecasters are blamed for something they aren't responsible for, one can sympathize why Gordon and Neville, two such fellows go and capture the culprit, the Adjutant General to the Dragon King of the North West, to be precise, and trap him in the form of a goldfish. Karen, rebel estate agent and superbly wet fish, goes out in search of her goldfish-bound father, so that Britain can return to being a slop bucket of abysmal showers. Unfortunately, Gordon and Neville give the goldfish to a rabid militia man, who plans to *flood Britain*, invade Tasmania, and colonize the Moon--huh; meanwhile, Gordon and Neville are, themselves, captured by an equally insane whacko who has founded a State religion which worships Queen Elizabeth the 2nd. Strange? Not really... So it's no wonder why a group of hired guns wearing Ray-ban shades and pressed double-breasted suits go and prepare for the second Noah's flood, commissioning a fellow to build an Ark, and attempting to acquire two of every species of animal (yes, even okapis). Holt throws in silly gags with further complications; but the novel seems to wear thin at points, and at other points it drags on. He also seems somewhat short on characters--in previous comic fantasy novels he's offered us up to 24 main characterizations; in "Nothing But Blue Skies", he gives us 10, and most of these aren't all central to the plot (three of them don't even have *names*). If you had a restricted amount of cash in your wallet, you desired a good read, some winsome jokes, some quirky characters, all rolled into a novel published for this year only, than I'd suggest you go purchase Terry Pratchett's "Thief of Time" rather than this. Holt's new fantasy is the consolation prize: he manages to offer us an abundance of perceptive observations, and some new funny highlights, and the plot continues to struggle on through the farce. I'm wondering if he'll ever bring back Kurt Lundqvist, expert assassin, or Danny Bennett, BBC TV executive, his two only recurring characters. In the days of "Odds and Gods" and "Only Human" Holt was sublime. He works a lot of strengths into "Nothing But Blue Skies" but as the adage says: two many cooks spoil the broth.