I'm not in nanowrimo because I was 56,000 words into this one before November 1st, but ... I'm continuing to write "The Apocalypse Codex", the fourth Laundry F

I'm not in nanowrimo because I was 56,000 words into this one before November 1st, but ... I'm continuing to write "The Apocalypse Codex", the fourth Laundry Files novel. At the start of the series, Bob Howard, a slashdot-reading sandal-wearing geek, accidentally got himself conscripted by the Laundry, that branch of the British secret service concerned with applications of Computational Demonology -- defending the realm from Lovecraftian horrors. Ten years on, Bob has been shunted onto the management promotion fast-track as the emergency generated by the return of the Elder Gods gathers pace. In this installment, he's been put in charge of a couple of external contractors (hint: the Laundry never uses contractors -- officially) and tasked with learning just why a certain televangelist is cosying up to the Prime Minister. "I feel like I've been given a sack of catnip and a laser pointer and told to go play with the kittens behind the fence labelled 'Siberian Tigers'" he complains -- except the tigers have run into a big game hunter, and the fecal matter is about to hit the wind farm ...