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Rajeev's caravan remains parked on the roundabout, and the Easter Fair is in full swing. Bruno Mars is still playing on full volume, and the vodka continues to flow through the gals' veins.
Yes, we are back in the crazy world of Sheila Patel. And all is good. Well, nearly.
The usual suspects are up to their usual reprehensible tricks. Flying chuppels and flip-flops make way for happy times at the Leeds Road police station. Letters to James Bond segue seamlessly into cricket, Shaz's birthday celebrations, Diwali fireworks, bobble hats and ghee. further generous helpings of Indian diaspora insanity, in other words, and... oh, did I mention a wedding? I'm sure there was one in there somewhere.
I have now consumed (in large glasses, and with no ice) all three 'Vodka' offerings, and there is as yet no sign of the author's invention flagging. These are truly 'feel good' books for the comatose generation.
Grab one - any one - and dive in.
Recommended for a hangover (giving you one, that is, not curing it). Warning: Contains nuts, and the occasional goat.
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