Harper Collins, £14.99stg
Boris Johnson is a familiar figure. As editor of the Spectator, ex-war correspondent for the Daily Telegraph, television panellist, and, bizarrely, a frequent guest on Eamon Dunphy's Last Word programme, he must have the highest profile of any newly elected British MP.
With his potbelly, confusion of blond hair and somewhat maladroit wit, Johnson cuts a figure closer to Billy Bunter than William Pitt. He is one of an endangered species, the likeable Tory, whose increasing rarity has been a contributing factor to the party's dreadful performances in the last two elections.
As a self-confessed media whore, it is hardly surprising to find his account of life on the campaign trail available so soon after the event. In fact, Johnson must have been working up to the wire, as the references to the Afghani War, England's defeat of Germany and the fact that the book's subtitle on the dust cover is different to the one on the fly-leaf inside betrays.
'Friends, Voters, Countrymen' is a typically self-deprecating and amusing account of Johnson's cack-handed campaign for a safe Tory seat in Middle England. Politically, it provides few insights, other than the mounting frustration of a party incapable of denting the popularity of a Prime Minister who has adopted most of their popular policies.
The book's charm lies in the character of Johnson himself, who survives his campaign and wins the seat, despite being followed at different stages by two of the British media's most feared hatchet-men – AA Gill and Jeremy Paxman. Truly a fate worse than death. From his thinly-veiled contempt for Liberal Democrats, through his tactical use of an Ali G catchphrase and down to his hilarious tale of being called a "c**t" by passing cyclists, Johnson never fails to amuse and entertain.
After reading 'Friends, Voters, Countrymen', it's obvious that a few drinks with Johnson would be thoroughly enjoyable. How many political memoirs could you say that about?