As readers of Roger Crombie's popular back page column, `Bermuda Factory' in the RG magazine have always known, his copy is consistently funny, highly addictive, and fully suscribes to the showbiz adage: "Always leave `em wanting more."

In consequence, waiting for the original monthly Crombie "fix" became intolerable enough, but when RG was reduced to six editions per year, fans began experiencing terminal osteonohaha.

With these endangered funny bones in mind, Mr. Crombie rode to the rescue with a bound compendium of his first 30 columns under the title `Bermuda Factory'. Spanning the period February, 1993 to mid-1995, it hit the stores just in time to boost Christmas giving last year.

Emboldened by the public's response, and ignoring his bank manager's rant that this was not `vanity' but `insanity' press, (the author self-publishes under the Matrix Books Bermuda label), Mr. Crombie has now come forth with Volume Two. Entitled `Bermuda Ha Ha', it contains 30 more columns published between mid-1995 and early 1998. No less delightful than its predecessor, the 202 new pages are again a feast of fun, and a literary delight which unfailingly leaves the reader marvelling at the author's unique and deftly-wrought word pictures, hilarious turns of phrase and succinct economy of English.

Yes, the reading is light, but so is the price - a mere $19.95 for a deluxe, hard-cover edition that the author swears "looks like a real book". Added bonuses include new material, bat-friendly type, pristine white pages, and intercessory prefaces to each chapter. Admittedly, there is no reclining nude of the author (or anyone else) to be found within its pages, or indeed any other evidence that Mr. Crombie actually exists, but an etching of a man on the back cover is purported to be an unreasonable likeness.

Recognising that not all readers sport enviable IQs, the author sets the tone for all that follows in his introduction to the Table of Contents with the simple directive, `Start here'.

The introduction itself is classic Crombie - a mixture of self-deprecation, literary curves and whimsy, which ends with the admonition: "Mothers, don't let your children grow up to be writers." Fortunately for his many fans, the fine lady who bequeathed not one, but two sons to the universe, ignored this advice before allowing one of them to escape to the colonies to cast his pearls before mine.

It would do the author (and sales) a disservice to commend one chapter over another, but it is fair to say that `100 Years of Folly, Dude' is a brilliant wrap-up of the twentieth century, which is certain to be a hit with double-parked history buffs.

`Bermuda Ha Ha' is the sort of book which can be taken, either in small doses like expensive medicine, or in large gulps, like a drowning man. Perfect for travel, lavatorial leisuretime, maiden aunts, and as an antidote to a hard day's night, it is a gem that will leave some readers tickled to death, and the survivors wanting more - which they will surely get, because Mr. Crombie, a chartered accountant by profession with a yellowed piece of paper to prove it, has calculated that, deo volente, he plans to keep the volumes coming `til death do us part.