Banks has said that he "got a phone call from my agent saying that another publisher had come up with the idea of me going round distilleries in search of the perfect malt, and was I interested?

Originally they wanted me to go round the Highlands in a black cab with some garrulous Glasgow cabbie or whatever, but we got rid of that idea and I drove myself."

Banks tells the story of a series of road trips in (or on) some of his extensive collection of vehicles, visiting and exploring many of Scotland's finest whiskies.

From early on, he brings an unpretentious approach: This, let's face it, is a book about one of the hardest of hard liquors and for all this let's be mature, I just drink it for the taste not the effect, honest, Two units a day only stuff... it is, basically, a legal, exclusive, relatively expensive but very pleasant way of getting out of your head.

Dubya is that worst of all things, at least at this level of power and influence; a cast-iron, 100 per cent, complete and total loser who's somehow lucked out and made it to the very top.