Mum, who's been steadily refining her book choices for me over successive recent Christmases, gave me P.J. O'Rourke's The CEO of the sofa this time around. Just as I was finishing the last 20 pages tonight, it seemed like it was drooping to a close, as he fell into a couple of pages of overblown Democrat-bashing, as if he was trying to finish writing the book about as fast as I was trying to finish reading it (but then, I don't read his stuff to be politically enlightened). Nevertheless, the rest of it's full of his usual descriptive humour, not too dissimilar to . I've learnt just how exciting it is to hang around the U.N., plus a few useful things about cigars, which almost helped me out when Michael was relating a Cigar FAQ to me after last night's film.