Clive James had an outstanding talent for imagery; one of his famous lines is in this collection, when he describes Barbara Cartland's eyes as like the corpses of two crows that have crashed into a chalk cliff. There are numerous other laugh-out-loud descriptions, too.
He is morally and culturally fastidious -- and more right-wing than I remembered -- indulging his righteous scorn to the full when reviewing the many programmes on the telly about the Jewish Holocaust (it must have been the thing in the late 70s/early 80s, and I do remember some of the ones he writes about), and taking presenters and others to task for their inarticulacy, triteness or vacuity. But part of his stock in trade was mocking people's appearance, accent and so on, and many of his comments would probably not get into print now, as perhaps offending modern sensibilities regarding race, sex and sexuality.
The book seemed to get harder to read as I neared the end. Too much moralising, perhaps.