This may be one of the best of Priestley's novels, yet it's rather flown under the radar, maybe because it was published at the beginning of the war when everyone (including Priestley) was busy with other matters. That's a pity, because this short but pungent satire on Fleet Street has a spookily contemporary feel.

The wonder hero of the title is a regular bloke who suddenly finds himself the toast of the media for a brave rescue that he did not, in fact, make - a fact the press won't acknowledge for reasons that, again, are creepily up-to-date. To say more about that would be a spoiler; suffice to say that the book feels oddly "right" even now.

Priestley's having a bit of a well-deserved revival nowadays and it's time this one was lifted with the tide. ( )