This book is unreadable. It also boasts that it has a higher death count than the Bible. I wasn’t going to count up both tallies to see if Swells was right, but I can hazard a guess that it is a close call. I can also guesstimate that this novel has more sex in it than the whole of the Swedish porn industry.

Let me ask you, what kind of twisted mind can alliterate whole pages, write descriptions without putting in spaces, make 2000 word stories rhyme, add the odd KABOOM and put in a 24 point AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGH that lasts for 13 pages?

The action is set 10 years after you’ve heard of this book, the setting is England, Heaven, Hell, the odd planet in a galaxy far far away and a satanic transit van.

The plot is splattered across the wall like a comedy custard tart and you get the feeling that the book consists of a series of strung together NME Banging On pieces. Then again Tits Out is the work of a fictional semi-lobotmised, drugged up, artificial orgasm powered rock hack working in a literary sweat shop in slavery to a mean piggy publisher.

It does have its clever bits though. The manuscript of Tits-out appearing in the plot written on the palm top of Bobo the incredibly intelligent Chimpanzee. The Story of Chog, Spog and the chemical bog. And the Yin-Yang ping-pong cosmik-feedback loop cum Mobius strip cum daemonic domino effect created by Helen Keller’s Iron Lung the satanic rock band.

It’s the sort of book your mum wouldn’t touch with a rusty barge pole. The day this gets put on the A-level English Literature List is the day the pundits should start tearing their hair out and asking for changes in the education system. But then that’s what it aims to do.

5 bubbles at times, but it’s the literary equivalent of listening to music masochists Atari Teenage Riot in a cupboard at 3 squillion decibels which leaves us with a: