Have you ever met a Glaswegian who wasn't complaining? "The weather's shite, sob sob, the sodjers beat me, boo hoo, the gers lost again, wah wah, I've gone blind." I was 35 pages in and I flicked to the back to check how many pages there are because, seriously, how long can you write stream-of-consciousness Scottish dialect about a guy who's gone blind? 380 pages, apparently. But nah it picks up, you get to love the guy, he's adorable.