As nobody else, as far as I know, has so far reviewed my book 'Ad Nauseam: confusions of an advertising man', I thought I might as well have a go myself. Taking pains, of course, to be as nit-picking and negative as the crankiest of independent critics could be.

Starting with the admission that the heading of this piece, like many others you've doubtless been fooled by in the past, is mostly fanciful if not outright false. The 'confessions' part is true enough, as you see, since I've already started spilling the beans. But as for the rest, forget it.

The 'Eminent' adjective, apparently testament to some notability attached to my name, is actually not at all to my credit, but conveniently borrowed from Eminent Publications, the name of the outfit that designed, produced and recently released my book. And the 'author' bit's equally bogus, as I didn't actually write the book, or at least not all of a piece, but merely collected a bunch of my old magazine columns for recycling - or, if you prefer, regurgitating - as a book look-alike.

Then, befitting the dodgy nature of the product itself, there's the suspect nature of its title. The first part, 'Ad Nauseam', as sickening as you might find it, is all mine.

But, as I could hardly avoid admitting in my introduction this tome, its sub-title 'confusions of an advertising man' is a rip-off of, or rather a tribute to, the title of the best-selling advertising book that I'm aware of, the late, great David Ogilvy's 'Confessions of an advertising man'.

Lest by now you're starting to suspect that this book I've 'authored' is bereft of any merit or originality whatever, let me assure you that at least it far outshines many more ambitious works in one tiny but telling aspect: the integrity of its cover blurbs.

Instead of the kind of puffs commonly used to plug big, thick blockbusters, like engrossing, riveting, enthralling and other such words clearly excerpted from otherwise damning or indifferent reviews; or equally incredible and clichd lines like 'NY Times No 1 Best Seller' and 'Soon To Be A Major Motion Picture', my covers feature genuine, verbatim quotes by real, live people, some of whom to my certain knowledge have actually read or at least glanced at the contents.

Not the contents

Actually I had been planning to make my covers a send-up of the sort of chicanery so frequently practised by publishers by emblazoning it with such messages as 'not Soon To Be A Major Motion Picture' together with a selection of some of my favourite historical - and in many cases hysterical - bad reviews of other books, like "I couldn't put it down..fast enough" and so on.

But then I thought such prankery might be confusing to literal-minded prospective purchasers. So instead I asked some prominent fellow advertising people of my acquaintance for their comments, and they all generously came through with the goods. Or, for the information of those of you who will notice a gender bias in my selection of blurbers, at least the male ones did. I did also ask two female colleagues for contributions, but neither deigned to reply, yet alone deliver.

One mixed-gender group that did come through in spades, however, was the aforementioned Eminent Publications, an imprint of Eminent Creative. Sean Lee, May Loke and their team, including Grey, Lena and Fanny, all did the project proud, as I hope you'll agree if and when get a close look at the final product.

Besides the fact that they've done a most professional job of it, I'm also eternally grateful to Eminent for the fact that the book has been published at all. No Australian publisher I approached would touch the thing, and one, the University of Queensland Press, even kept the stamped, self-addressed envelope it demanded for return of the manuscript, which I'm still awaiting.

One Malaysian outfit I approached seemed to like my stuff well enough, but rejected my proposal to produce a book of it on the grounds - curiously enough, coming from a publisher - that "Malaysians don't read". Which is true to an extent, I suppose, though to judge by the crowds in Kinokunya or Borders, to name just two of the few genuine bookstores in KL, some Malaysians read a good deal.

And even in the stores selling a more limited, less elevated range of literature, mostly of the best-selling, true-romance and self-improvement variety, there appears to be no shortage of shoppers. Some of them are clearly browsers, not buyers, choosing to save their money by spending hours blocking the aisles and perusing every word of the merchandise in blatant disregard of the 'No free reading' signs.

In any event, free of charge or otherwise, Malaysians seem to me to read no less than my fellow Australians, the majority of whom, I suspect, on seeing or hearing the word 'publication' or any other with the syllable 'pub' in it, would think of beer way before books.

But let's cut to the chase, as they say, and take a look at what's in this particular book for you, the potential reader. Or rather what's not in it. Not a jot of plot, not a trace of suspense or romance, and not a great deal of dialogue. Not much of either fact or fiction either, but bits and pieces of both laced so heavily with prejudice and opinion that the whole thing comes across more like 'faction and friction'.

Which brings me to the frank admission that, whatever this book lacks in the usual literary staples, it's absolutely riddled with puns and other plays on words. Some self-styled purists, I know, consider such stuff beyond the pale. But as far as I'm concerned, what was good enough for Shakespeare is also fine for us mere mortals.

Not that I expect to be an all-time-bestseller like the bard. All I can hope is that it doesn't turn out a total bust-seller, and send my friends at Eminent Publications broke. In which event I'd be bound to summon up enough spine to admit the fault was entirely mine.

Buy Ad Nauseam: Confusions of an Advertising Man here .