Frankly this deserves no stars - a total shambles of a book, which reads like one man's pathetic fantasies put into terrible prose and served up in book format.
How this was ever published is beyond me - the language is infantile, the stories far fetched and the tone both patronising and lecturing, whilst at the same time managing to be hypocritical!
Wayne Anthony is a proper geezer - he's outdone anything you have: he's been there, got the t-shirt and written a book all about it.
But, adopting a fake moral tone, he doesn't advise you to try and copy him, cos he's now got all spiritual and that, BUT wow, he had some wild times before all that.
Probably the lowest moment of the book is where he chronicles his older brother pleading via letter with him to be careful, and watch out for dodgy drugs. Wayne laughs this off, nothing can touch our geezer mate, he's proper naughty.
Frankly, if I didn't have the bizarre OCD thing of having to finish a book I start, I would have thrown this book in the bin. There is abizarre compulsion as well to see what further tales of excess and bravado he can come up with: dodgy gangsters, ultra-vixens, and Ferraris - Wayne can spin a tall tale about them all.
If any of this is true, then Wayne you're just not telling it in a very convincing fashion.