John Glashan is largely unknown these days, it seems. I only stumbled across him by accident. In fact he is an incredibly gifted artist, as you can tell from his lovingly rendered rococo facades on background buildings and furniture. It is only humans which are sketched with contemptible lack of care: I think he hates them. Welcome to the "sleepy pig-iron town" of "Grinding Mallet" which every year holds a "Meths Festival" where tourists taste the Premier Cru product "matured in the brick". If you like your humour black and dry and aren't offended by amoral alcoholics strung out on meths, then Glashan is probably your perfect tipple. It would appeal to those who get a kick out of Ronald Searle's Molesworth stuff. I also recommend you seek out his other books, like "Speak up you Tiny Fool" or the Penguin John Glashan.