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Little worth discussing
on 27 August 2010
Admittedly biographies aren't what I pick up first from the bookshelf, but, like many people I enjoyed "Little Britain" and thought this might be an insight into how Lucas and Walliams created their characters and honed their writing.
Instead I was treated to what felt like a conversation with an air-head girl. The entire book is written in the present tense, and is utterly, utterly vacuous. Sentences like (and this isn't a direct quotation, more of a parody) "David looks around the room and waves at Sam. Sam is a very famous photographer who hasn't dated David, but he'd quite like to date her. They tell some hilarious anecdotes."
For all its "celeb gossip", the book actually fails to disclose anything of any interest. David seems to spend most of the time pining after a lady known only as X - whose identity is the only half-interesting thing and is yet never revealed. Matt on the other hand, just seems to get his tummy rubbed by his partner a lot. This is all interspersed with dull anecdotes from a long-forgotten tour (who cares that the vomit machine isn't working?) and parties where girls throw themselves at David. This is basically a kiss-and-tell book without any kissing or any telling.
Every so often, in a different font, so that the more stupid of us realise we're in a flashback, an incident from either David or Matt's past is discussed. I say discussed. It's all very high level: "Matt realised that he was gay and he went to a nightclub and met his boyfriend". Very occasionally, something deeper is referred to - some dark incident(s) in David's childhood are referred to, a childhood friend seems important and is yet not ever mentioned in the "present tense" - and maddeningly the only interesting insights are never explored. Admittedly, the passage where David swims the Channel is engrossing - but more for the task itself than the way in which it is written.
The book even insults the reader's intelligence by repeating entire passages verbatim.
If you read Heat magazine and know what a WAG is, you'll probably enjoy this. For those of us who hoped it might be more in the vein of Dawn French's "Dear Fatty", you'll be sadly disappointed. But also hopeful - if this cack can get published, perhaps we can all write a book.