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.