“Igor?' said Moist. 'You have an Igor?'Oh, yes,' said Hubert. 'That's how I get this wonderful light. They know the secret of storing lightning in jars! But don't let that worry you, Mr Lipspick. Just because I'm employing an Igor and working in a cellar doesn't mean I'm some sort of madman, ha ha ha!'Ha ha,' agreed Moist.Ha hah hah!,' said Hubert. 'Hahahahahaha!! Ahahahahahahhhhh!!!!!-'Bent slapped him on the back. Hubert coughed.Sorry about that, it's the air down here,' he mumbled.”

“Just because I'm employing an Igor and working in a cellar doesn't mean I'm some sort of madman, ha ha ha!”

“The only really sane person in there is Igor, and possibly the turnip. And I'm not sure about the turnip.”

“That's the fashion. Fast as the speed of light, they say. Ha! It's got no soul, sir, no heart.”

“Hah!" said Granny Weatherwax. "I should just say it is a folk song! I knows all about folk songs. Hah! You think you're listenin' to a nice song about...cuckoos and fiddlers and nightingales and whatnot, and then it turns out to be about...something else entirely," she added darkly.”

“He slid his stele across the table toward her. "Use it." "No," Clary said, and pushed the stele back across the table at him. Jace slammed his hand down on the stele. "Clary-" "She said she doesn't want it," said Simon. "Ha-ha." "Ha-ha?" Jace looked incredulous. "THAT'S your comeback?”

“Biers was where the undead drank. And when Igor the barman was asked for a Bloody Mary, he didn't mix a metaphor.”