The Road to McCarthy, by Pete McCarthy

The chortling army who adored McCarthy's Bar, in which the eponymous Pete enjoyed a well-lubricated perambulation of Ireland, will not be disappointed by this bulkier sequel. Taking the world as his oyster, McCarthy provides fewer laugh-out-loud moments, though I've just found myself snickering at his account of a bus journey to Gibraltar so protracted that he feels all his "adult years have been spent driving through building sites in glaring sunshine on a coach full of angry people who smell of egg sandwiches".

Whether encountering a man in Cork who won £1m on the lottery while unemployed and bought "the fecking dole office" (it's perfectly true) or being sold a newspaper by an unlikely Tangiers cockney ("Go on sir, Tellygraph. 'Ave a quick shufty if you like"), McCarthy proves to be an amiable and observant companion. He has a wonderful ear for conversation and a keen eye for odd signs and surreal sights. Even with well-worn material, McCarthy is undeniably amusing.

He does not pass up the chance to remark on the annoyance of mobile phones, the weirdness of food photographs in the window of a Gibraltar restaurant ("Photo No 7 is billed 'Bread and Butter' and is as good as its word... Now no one will be able to say, 'What the bloody hell's this?'"), the bureaucratic torment involved in entering the US, and the unexpected power of American showers: "Why do American showers knock you over, while ours have all the oomph of a dolly's watering can?"

Every so often, the strain of panning every moment for a glint of comedy begins to show. You can almost hear the wah-wah trumpet of a humorous accompaniment as our hero gets himself into another pickle. On page 21, he encounters a Gibraltar ape while taking a leak: "Fingernails like razors, apparently. They fancy a snack, they get a snack." On page 231, he finds himself in Tasmania "caught in a pincer movement between a psychotic goose and a kangaroo whose peace has just been disturbed ... "

Though it takes a while to emerge, the book's raison d'être is a pursuit of the Irish diaspora and the McCarthy clan in particular. This leads to such destinations as Butte, Montana ("The 1900 census showed Butte to be the most predominantly Irish city in the US"), Montserrat (described in 1668 as "almost an Irish colony"), and Tangiers, where the head of the McCarthy clan has made his home. This fitfully acknowledged pursuit of the shamrock occasionally gives the book a dream-like quality. One minute Pete is having a miserable night in Dublin, the next he's having a miserable time in Antigua.

Fortunately, McCarthy is blessed with the ability to impart a strong sense of place. If the book suffers from bagginess, then this is not uncommon in travel books, most of which are fuelled by ego. McCarthy's sharp and intelligent humour makes this roundabout journey a constant joy.