In this spoof of the showbiz autobiography genre, Paul Merton writes of an East End childhood, the last days of the music halls, Pinewood, success in the Sixties, hard times, depression, wives, and a rise to the heady heights of success.
I bought this because, first of all, I am a fan of Merton's humour and second, some Guardian reader commenting under a review of Merton's new, genuine, autobiography, mentioned this, a spoof autobiography by Merton from about 20 years ago, and said it was very funny.
It isn't.
I read about half, doggedly, before remembering my principle that life is too short to waste on crap books, even if they're by people you like.