The blurb on the inside cover
Said: ‘He has been too long ignored.’
I ploughed through the first two chapters;
By then I was thoroughly bored.
Until I thought of my contract
To review the book on TV,
Together with some Oxbridge types
And an artist dressed as a tree.
(Later on, in a wine-soaked haze,
I also remembered my fee.)
And so I read the weighty tome,
All eleven hundred pages.
I have no clue what it’s about;
I just know it took me ages.
While jotting down some unkind barbs,
Each one harsher than the other,
I recognised the author’s name:
My employer's younger brother!
On broadcast day, I praised it as
‘An exciting, fast-paced novel.’
In my trade, one requirement
Is a willingness to grovel.