The problem with reading a book called John Dies At The End in public is that without a doubt, everybody who you talk to on a regular basis will come up to you and ask with a wide grin: "Does John die at the end?". Always. Without fail. As soon as I started reading it I knew that would happen. And yet everyone always asks this when I'm quite clearly only two thirds of the bloody way through.
And then there's the other problem, being that it's side-splittingly hilarious and that I have to take the occasional break so I can stop giggling in places like a crowded bus. It's a pity I can't really refer to my absolute favourite parts here, given it's quite considerably NSFBZP.