Bob Mortimer’s “The Hotel Avocado” is a proper delight. It’s odd, often absurd and absolutely hilarious. Mortimer has a gentle charm about him that never feels forced, and it carries the whole thing beautifully. He’s properly funny without trying too hard, which is harder than it sounds.

If you read “The Satsuma Complex” last year and found yourself laughing at its sheer inventiveness, you’ll be glad to know Mortimer’s stayed true to form. “The Hotel Avocado” follows the same peculiar blueprint, right down to measuring people’s features in hamsters and fruit. None of it makes any sense, but somehow it still paints a vivid picture. It’s the sort of imagery that sticks with you, even when you’re not sure why.

Fair warning, though. This one’s odd, and not everyone will warm to its particular flavour of strange. But if you’re already tuned to Mortimer’s wavelength, you’ll find something rather lovely here. The story weaves itself together with surprising ease, balancing quirk and heart. It’s populated by actual humans rather than cartoon cut-outs, which makes a refreshing change. Best of all, it wraps up without resorting to the usual violent crescendo, proving you can keep things interesting without guns or explosions.

Mortimer’s not aiming to change literature forever, and that’s fine. This is not Dostoyevsky. It’s a funny and engaging romp that slides down as easily as morning coffee. Sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐