Deliver to your Kindle or other device

 
 
 

Try it free

Sample the beginning of this book for free

Deliver to your Kindle or other device

My Booky Wook
 
See larger image
 

My Booky Wook [Kindle Edition]

Russell Brand
4.1 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (252 customer reviews)

Print List Price: £8.99
Kindle Price: £3.49 includes VAT* & free wireless delivery via Amazon Whispernet
You Save: £5.50 (61%)
* Unlike print books, digital books are subject to VAT.

Free Kindle Reading App Anybody can read Kindle books—even without a Kindle device—with the FREE Kindle app for smartphones, tablets and computers.

To get the free app, enter your e-mail address or mobile phone number.

‹  Return to Product Overview

Product Description

Review

'Candid, funny and moving.' (Sun )

'How in God's name did the publishers ever get him to sit down and write the bloody thing? Because make no mistake - unlike most celebrity biogs, MY BOOKY WOOK has definitely been written by Brand.' (London Lite )

'Part funny, but part hugely disturbing . . .' (Grazia )

'The most talented stand-up comedian to emerge in Britain this decade, Brand combines Eddie Izzard's rare ability to carry a whole crowd along on an audacious flight of comic fancy with the carnal magnetism of the young George Best. Audiences leave a Brand performance not just entertained but actively debauched by his catalogue of erotic misadventure.'

(Daily Telegraph )

'To his expanding CV can now be added a scandalous, libidinous memoir that is better written and more entertaining than any number of the celebrity autobiographies that clog the shelves of bookshops.' (Observer )

'The Russell Brand of MY BOOKY WOOK is surprisingly approachable. The comedian's playful love of language is evident from his occasional lapse into obscure or archaic words, and sits well with his penchant for childishness. . . Inevitably, the main point of interest is Brand's addictions, drugs and sex, about which he writes with unexpected affability.' (Herald )

'335 dismal, masturbatory pagey-wages. ' (Ian Hislop, Have I Got News For You )

'Hliarious, sometimes brilliant, and always indulgenht' (Christopher Goodwin, Sunday Times 20080420)

'rdgfdghfh.' (bob, Independent 20080420)

Book Description

The controversial, unexpurgated, and hilarious life story of the nation's hottest comedian - in his own words.

Product Description

Russell Brand grew up in Essex . His father left when he was three months old, he was bulimic at 12 and left school at 16 to study at the Italia Conti stage school. There, he began drinking heavily and taking drugs. He regularly visited prostitutes in Soho, began cutting himself, took drugs on stage during his stand-up shows, and even set himself on fire while on crack cocaine. He has been arrested 11 times and fired from 3 different jobs - including from XFM and MTV - and he claims to have slept with over 2,000 women. In 2003 Russell was told that he would be in prison, in a mental hospital or dead within six months unless he went in to rehab. He has now been clean for three years.


In 2006 his presenting career took off, and he hosted the NME awards as well as his own MTV show, 1 Leicester Square, plus Big Brother's Big Mouth on Channel 4. His UK stand-up tour was sold out and his BBC Radio 6 show became a cult phenomenon, the second most popular podcast of the year after Ricky Gervais. He was awarded Time Out's Stand Up Comedian of the Year and won Best Newcomer at the British Comedy Awards.


In 2007 Russell hosted both the Brit Awards and Comic Relief, and continued to front Big Brother's Big Mouth. His BBC2 radio podcast became the UK's most popular.


Russell writes a weekly football column in the Guardian and is the patron of Focus 12, a charity helping people with alcohol and substance misuse.

Synopsis

Russell Brand exploded onto the UK's standup comedy scene, and later gained widespread fame on MTV and Channel 4's "Big Brother's Little Brother". His wild onstage persona was matched by his offstage antics as he battled with drug and alcohol addiction and had a series of high-profile flings. Now clean and sober, in this candid and often shocking memoir he reveals the gripping truth about the notorious boy from Essex who came good - but very nearly didn't.

About the Author

Russell Brand is a comedian, journalist, TV and radio presenter and actor. He has won numerous awards including Time Out`s Comedian of the Year, Best Newcomer at the British Comedy Awards, Best TV Performer at the Broadcasting Press Guild Awards, Most Stylish Man at GQ`s Men of the Year Awards and the Sun`s Shagger of the Year.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

On the morning of April Fools' Day, 2005, I woke up in a sexual addiction treatment centre in a suburb of Philadelphia. As I limped out of the drab dog's bed in which I was expected to sleep for the next thirty wankless nights, I observed the previous incumbent had left a thread of unravelled dental floss by the pillow - most likely as a noose for his poor, famished dinkle.

When I'd arrived the day before, the counsellors had taken away my copy of the Guardian, as there was a depiction of the Venus de Milo on the front page of the Culture section, but let me keep the Sun, which obviously had a page 3 lovely. What kind of pervert police force censors a truncated sculpture but lets Keeley Hazell pass without question? `Blimey, this devious swine's got a picture of a concrete bird with no arms - hanging's too good for him, to the incinerator! Keep that picture of stunner Keeley though.' If they were to censor London Town they would ignore Soho but think that statue of Alison Lapper in Trafalgar Square had been commissioned by Caligula.

Being all holed up in the aptly named KeyStone clinic (While the facility did not have its own uniformed police force, the suggestion of bungling silent film cops is appropriate) was an all too familiar drag. Not that I'd ever been incarcerated in sex chokey before, lord no, but it was the umpteenth time that I'd been confronted with the galling reality that there are things over which I have no control and people who can force their will upon you. Teachers, sex police, actual police, drug counsellors; people who can make you sit in a drugless, sexless cell either real or metaphorical and ponder the actuality of life's solitary essence. In the end it's just you. Alone

Who needs that grim reality stuffed into their noggin of a morning? Not me. I couldn't even distract myself with a wank over that gorgeous slag Venus de Milo; well, she's asking for it, going out all nude, not even wearing any arms.

The necessity for harsh self-assessment and acceptance of death's inevitability wasn't the only thing I hated about that KeyStone place. No, those two troubling factors vied for supremacy with multitudinous bastard truths. I hated my fucking bed: the mattress was sponge, and you had to stretch your own sheet over this miserable little single divan in the corner of the room. And I hated the fucking room itself where the strangled urges of onanism clung to the walls like mildew. I particularly hated the American grey squirrels that were running around outside - just free, like idiots, giggling and touching each other in the early spring sunshine. The triumph of these little divas over our indigenous, noble, red, British squirrel had become a searing metaphor for my own subjugation at the hands of the anti-fuck-Yanks. To make my surrender complete I was obliged to sign this thing (opposite).

I wish I'd been photographed signing it like when a footballer joins a new team grinning and holding a pen. Or that I'd got an attorney to go through it with a fine tooth comb: `You're gonna have to remove that no bumming clause,' I imagine him saying. Most likely you're right curious as to why a fella who plainly enjoys how's yer father as much as I do would go on a special holiday to `sex'camp' (which is a misleading title as the main thrust of their creed is `no fucking'). The short answer is I was forced. The long answer is this . . .

‹  Return to Product Overview