The title is rather misleading; there are in fact only a few pages given to Picasso, whom of course Mr Johnson regards as a fraud built up by art dealers. The book is a collection of "columns" written for the Spectator, and like many of its kind it seems bitty and rather lacking in substance - good journalism, very often, does not go well into book form which demands a different time factor. Some of the pieces are rather "In" stuff, too, like the one about Germaine Greer's resignation from the Guardian, which reads like a gossip session among journalists over glasses of wine in El Vino's. Mr Johnson, frankly, can do much better than this; but then he is so obviously trying hard to sound topical and provocative.