The cast of characters is enough to make the reader agree with Henry Brinks that for the honest soul, immigration control is the worst job in the world, stipulated. But some of the immigrants you can't help but feel deserve it: A refugee from Niger mocks the officers only to end up pleading for political asylum, which he undeservedly gets (sending Dave Niblo into a rage). An Australian backpacker tells an immigration officer, "I've just come for a while, check out the place. Just bummin' around ..." For those in Britain who believe that "no nationality walks into being refused like Australians," she is a prize gift to the IO on duty who instantly refuses her entry. A drunk and belligerent American World War II veteran, still disgruntled after all these years at Roosevelt sending him into the conflict "to pull your limey butts out of the goddamn fire" gains entry through Henry, but you're left with the feeling that if this despicable Yank had encountered Speerpoint or Foster, he'd be put on the next flight back to the States.

Henry eventually gets his revenge, but not in the way that you'd think. The novel leads you to conclude that Henry will bring the operation to its knees over Ed Thorough and his admission of the Chinese triad killer, but something even more delicious is in store. I won't spoil it, but all I'll say it that it involves Sharon Barber and "the Bitch."

After five years dealing with Terminal C at London Airport (there is no such thing; you get the idea that the author is disguising Immigration Control at Heathrow or Gatwick), Henry is relieved of the cut-throat, soul-draining existence at the airport. He doesn't retire, but he does claim a much sought-after position.

To find out what this position is and how Henry attains it, read "Refusal Shoes." You may never board a flight to Britain with positive expectations ever again, but it is still worth the read. One hilarious read. Thank you, Mr. Saint.