'Kicking, with a capital K, against the pricks, the author takes us to places we never imagined in Death is My Human Right, an experimental novel about Scotland's top table drug misuse. Gone is the sanitised gloss of hard drug living evinced by Welsh et al. instead, the author shows us the abject, the real shit at the bottom stuff, via his self-named and self-stylised technique of representation called abjekt honesty, almost a character in itself. Despite, or because of, the honesty and horror, this novel is still funny, like Welsh, but real.'