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Today is a truly momentous day for An Unreliable Witness.

But enough about me. Forget for a moment that this is my site, all about me. I know it’s difficult, but try. Just this once, please. I’m begging and imploring you. I know that I am an endlessly fascinating topic of conversation, so I promise that you can all go back to talking about me in a few minutes, after you’ve read this entry. But for the next few paragraphs, I crave your indulgence.

Today is a truly momentous day (as I previously mentioned) because an exceptional friend of mine - you know, a real friend, as opposed to one of the increasingly numerous imaginary contingent I possess - has published a book. It’s a real book, too; not an imaginary book. The sort of book that is now available from your local virtual and/or bricks and mortar bookstore, rather than one of those limited edition items that you draw on a piece of cardboard when you’re five years old, and give to your mother with the proud boast: “Look mummy, I did make a book! Isn’t I clever?” No, not that kind of book at all.

Sorry, for a moment there I had a flashback to certain painful childhood traumas. Must stop. Deep breath. “This post is not about me. This post is not about me. This post is not about me. Not about me. No. Just this once, it’s not about me.” Anyway, where was I?

So. Yes. My friend Andre Jordan - hereafter and forever to be known as “Andre Jordan of Andre Jordan fame” - has had a book published. It’s a very good book too. I know this, because I’ve already read it. Yes, aren’t I special? You may now swoon in my esteemed presence. I got an exclusive preview from the great man himself too. You’re horrendously jealous now, aren’t you? I flicked through its pages and I laughed, I cried, I smiled, I sighed with recognition, I said “Is that a sheep? Or a cloud?”, I giggled, I frowned, I sniffled, I snuffled, I gurgled. The gurgling was nothing to do with the book, I hasten to add; it’s just that Andre and I had been sharing a curry at the time, and it was a bit too strong for my delicate constitution.

Oh damn. I’m talking about myself again. Back to the matter in hand - namely, Andre and his fabulous book.

It’s very good, you know. The book, I mean. Well, it would be, because it’s all about me. Me. Yes. About me. All of it. Every single felt-tipped line. Every single sheep-like cloud. Or cloud-like sheep. Whichever. Yes, yes, I know that if you trap him in a dark corner, shine a torch in his eyes, tie him up and interrogate him until he screams for mercy (not that I’ve done this; not much, anyway), he’ll try and deny it, but he and I both knew the truth. There was an attempt a few months back to title the book If You’re An Unreliable Witness And You Know It, but his publishers blocked it. Something about the title being too long to fit on the rather small and pocket-sized cover. Yes, a likely story.

So the little green book ended up being called If You’re Happy And You Know It. It’s out now. Today, in fact. Thursday 1 November, 2007: a truly momentous day that will go down in the annals of history. On its cover, it features a felt-tip drawn man with a sad face apparently shooting himself in the head. Aw, bless. That makes it the sort of gift you desperately want to give your delicate grandmother for Christmas, doesn’t it? Indeed, Andre’s little book is of just the right size - and certainly just the right subject matter - to make it the perfect stocking filler for the forthcoming festive season. So, ladies, be sure to fill your stockings with Andre Jordan this Christmas. And gentlemen too, of course, if you’re into wearing stockings.

In the meantime, I had been planning to assist the Jordanesque publicity machine by running a competition on this site in which I would give away the five copies of Andre’s little book that I ordered from Amazon, but the infamous doodler - with a distinctly mean gleam in his eye - advised me that I would be taking liberties (and probably decreasing the pocket-sized volume’s value) if I signed the inside cover myself. I say, however, that he’s a spoilsport. Imagine how exclusive those books would be in the future! They would be collector’s items! If You’re Happy And You Know It, as signed by the legendary An Unreliable Witness! J.K. Rowling can, frankly, kiss my arse. I’ve had that Ian McEwan on the phone this morning wanting me to sign his latest book for him. So there, Mister Jordan.

Sorry, I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Not about me, not about me, not about me, not about me. And breathe. And relax.

So what are you waiting for? You can find out more about Andre Jordan’s debut publication at his new website, helpfully called andre jordan dot co dot you kay, or you can just go straight to Amazon and ask them to forward, post haste, a copy of that terrific book of doodles all about An Unreliable Witness. Tell them I sent you.

(Oh bugger. Did it again.)

Lastly, it only falls to me to say that the long-held rumour about the humble website, blog or weblog you see before you is, in fact, completely true. Everything I write here really is all about Andre Jordan of Andre Jordan fame. Except when it’s all about me. Which is always.

P.S. I am due to receive a substantial commission for each and every book sold as a result of this entry, so at least two of you ungrateful sods bloody well better go and buy it because of what I’ve written here, or else I’ll kill myself. That is not an idle threat.