Can these "travels through unloved Britain" really be as bad as the toe-curling title? Not quite though Moore rubs our nose in it from his starting point on the Isle of Sheppey: "Someone had etched 'I HATE THIS FUCKING PLACE'."
Desperately seeking giggles, he mocks all accents ("You come to Yarmoat for bee's knees or holly die?") but his own.
A descant of weirdly unrelated chuntering accompanies his sidesplitting adventures: Spam in Suffolk, an appalling film of Sgt Pepper in Hull.
There are no contents page or chapter headings, just endless Moore.