In other sneaky kiddie news, I am sick of him reading Enid Blytons. So recent strategy to get him to read other stuff includes giving him dictation (his handwriting is terrible and he spells as if he's taken dictation from someone who's had their teeth pulled out; so this is necessary) from new! exciting! books!
Of course, it's useless to dictate from Arun Kolatkar's The Policeman because it's only drawings, but they're lovely and we giggled through it, esp. at the beehive that forms under the pleeceman's armpit.