The novel of the film of the comic of the same name

O god, it burns!

If you dare, pull up Inside This Book. Or don't, you'll be better off; its morass of swirling, turgid prose itself bedecked, with dependant clauses, which were recursive, bombastic, riddled with complexities themselves fraught with abecedarian faux pas so redolent with fault that the benighted, wayward, reader, overcome with revulsion, might find itself hastily perplexed, were abominable.