Dimensions
130 x 200 x 18mm
He's back. And he's not taking prisoners. Although he might take naps . . .
PJ O'Rourke has toured the fighting in Bosnia, visited the West Bank disguised as PJ of Arabia, and traded quips with communist rebels in the Philippines. Now, in this book, he confronts the most frightening place of all - his own home. Ensconced on the domestic boardroom's throne (although not supposed to put his feet on the cushions) he faces a three-year-old who wants a mobile phone and neighbours who smell like Democrats.
Undaunted by middle age, PJ holds forth on everything from getting toddlers to sleep to why Hilary Clinton's election victory was a good thing. And PJ leaps (well, groans and pushes himself up) from the couch to pursue assignments such as a blind (drunk) wine tasting with Christopher Buckley, and a sojourn at the UN Millennial Summit where he runs the risk of perishing from boredom, and puts readers in peril of laughing themselves to death.
