Book Review (#2 in the series)

The harrowing first third of the book details her upbringing as one of the working poor in a council flat, raised by a violent single mother (herself the victim of a wife-beating husband) constantly on the brink (or in the throes) or a nervous breakdown and how she eventually escapes into the British Navy.

The second third covers in meticulous detail the brutal, punishing training regimen that turns out operatives for one of the toughest and most dangerous assignments in the world. In the third, the book takes us down the streets and country roads of Northern Ireland, where anyone might be a terrorist and the special forces' job is hunting them down one by one. Our hero makes hand brake turns in a old Peugot with a baby seat in the back for camouflage, armed only with a 9mm Browning and an HK53 assault rifle. Her co-workers are sexist to the core, who gradually and grudgingly come to appreciate someone who can outdrink, outthink and outshoot them.

Excerpt:
As I was gyrating on the dance floor I saw a fat slag - straight out of Viz magazine - pick up my handbag from my chair and started tottering off with it. I strode across and reclaimed it. Then it started. She stood her ground and started jabbing me in the chest with a red-taloned finger, pretending that she thought it was her mate's bag. She was a real slapper. You know the type - white high heels, blue eyeliner and badly applied bottled permatan. I'd soon had enough of her frosty pink lipsticked mouth yelling at me, so I decked her.