Nostalgia for the week before last is becoming endemic. It's only 20 years since the 80s, but already semi-autobiographical novels focussing more on the trappings of the decade than the characters' development are best sellers- such as David Nicholl's readable Your Starter For Ten.
In Andrew Collins' inevitable sequel to Where Did It All Go Right? The 80s are squeezed of every last drop of cultural cliche, and re-served to those of us who've only just managed to forget the whole sorry thing.
The success of Collin's autobiographies is dependent entirely on the wry smiles of recognition they evoke in his thirty-something readers- without that, they're just dull tales of nothing much happening, told warmly and fairly entertainingly- but ultimately without a point.
Collins, we're encouraged to feel, is everyone who ever grew up eating fish fingers cooked by parents who stayed together, everyone who ever essayed a feeble stab at rebellion with a "Thatcher Out' button badge an d a can of lager after midnight, and everyone who went on to work in the media, and look back in langour at the pleasant ennui of their early years.
Heaven Knows.. is charming, but it's an easy charm, based on shared knowledge, and the mutual disdainful affection of himself and his reader for the way we were. As a formula, it could run and run- coming soon, Take That And Party, Collin's memoir of his life as a cub NME reporter, ten whole years ago. It might not be, of course, but I'd put my money on it- because nostalgia abhors a vacuum.