Isambard Wilkinson, Travels in a Dervish Cloak (London: Eland, 2017), p. 39:
One day, the Professor handed me a copy of his latest dictionary, Essential English Usage. ‘I’ve written it,’ he said, pausing to compress his lips, eyes twinkling with satire, ‘so that I might become very famous.’ I skimmed through it. Several phrases stood out: ‘…the moon’s lucent rays silvered the river’ ‘…she is a voluptuous dancer (Having large breasts and hips)’ ‘…Portly – having a rather fat body’ As I skimmed on, its deeper currents revealed it to be a Voltairian swipe against infamy. ‘Why does the feudal abase his servants in public?’ ‘Her landlord is a bit of an ogre’ ‘Who is not aware of the political and financial shenanigans among the political elite?’ The Professor asked if I would mind reviewing his dictionary for my newspaper. ‘The paper doesn’t usually review such books,’ I said. ‘But couldn’t you put a little something down on paper?’ he gently prodded. Later on he pressed a fresh edition of the book into my hands. He turned it over so I could see its back cover. There was my paper’s endorsement of his work ‘…this steadfast collection of definitions and usages is brightened by wit and literary flair’. He was very pleased. ‘You know,’ I said, in a confessional tone, ‘the review was never actually published in the paper.’ ‘No matter. No matter at all. That is far from the point,’ reassured the Professor.