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3.8 out of 5 stars
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3.8 out of 5 stars
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on 19 January 2014
A happy read. Wickedly funny. But do not buy if you are a fully-paid-up PCP (Politically Correct Pillock)
or take yourself (or others) too seriously. If,however, you are not a member of the sad majority, then buy
it,read it and enjoy.
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on 12 October 2009
Choking with laughter, ascerbic, witty with wonderful asides from Barry Cryer overhead in the garden centre to demolition of knobs from Pinter to Cameron and delicious snippets from the supermarket and local paper. Dr Chris Schilling
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on 8 September 2011
I suffer each year from a couple who think I am interested in the state of hubbie's rectum, their pensions, and did we notice the archbishop who died was someone they knew 40 years ago. Their Round Robin, delivered by e.mail, is arrogant, snobbish, and full of Boswellian content.

Thank heavens for this book. Fun, laugh out loud rudery, and should I send it to my friends?

Buy it and wallow in the knowledge that human beings are on this planet. Wonderful stuff. A great antidote to Round Robin.
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on 1 November 2009
Here is a writer who is fat, unfashionable and cruelly unrecognised as the literary giant he feels himself to be. Roger Lewis's welcome and bilious antidote to those smug annual bulletins from chronic over-achievers is funny and surprisingly touching. His sketch of his father, a frustrated man-of-letters trapped in the family butchery business, is a shaft of pathos amid the comic grumbling and bumbling.
Be aware, however, that the dustjacket promises of delirious hilarity from Lewis's friends Francis Wheen and Gyles Brandreth are over-stated. Lynn Barber, another mate, says he is a "genius." Well, he's very good. And if he is more succesful and less poor than he would have us believe, we forgive him anyway. A tonic for self-pitying middle-aged malcontents.
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on 29 December 2009
I really wanted to like this book, but I cannot find a single, positive thing to say about it or the author, though the author rarely says anything nice about most people so we're even there I guess. The book, for me, has no redeeming features, except a rather fetching cover which isn't even original. The writing is not in the least bit funny, nor even mildy interesting, the sentences ramble ... I gave up a third of the way through, something I have never, ever done before with any book, ever.

The only saving grace is that I borrowed this from the library and didn't waste any money on it. The author seems to question (often) why no-one offers him any work as a writer, the answer is simple, he has no talent.

Half of what I read seems to be just moaning about not being invited to things (award ceremonies, clubs, etc.) that he had no intention of attending or accepting - hilarious !! (No, not at all, sorry.)

I did wonder if he was being ironic but discounted that idea; he just seemed to be trying too hard and failing miserably.

Clearly according to some of the reviews here not everyone agrees with this viewpoint, but in my opinion you should avoid this book like the plague, in fact if you have the choice, opt for the plague, at least it will end, this book will never go away though it is already being consigned to the bargain bins as you will see by the fact that people are selling this at £2.99, rather than £12.99 - the list price.

Very disappointed.
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on 5 November 2012
A collection of desperately unfunny round robins. (Round robins that don't strive so strenuously for laughs are funnier by far.) Roger Lewis enjoys being miserable ('splenetic', he calls it). He laments the disappearance of 'centuries' old literature and culture' yet turns up his nose ('daft') at words like aleatory, allophone, apocopation. If popular culture enrages him so, why not just ditch the TV? A real life Ed Reardon - sans pathos
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on 2 January 2012
Having read in the D Mail today, 2nd Jan 2012, (not my paper, found on train, honest guv) that Roger Lewis is in Hospital, I went online to see how he was doing, ending up looking at reviews of Seasonal Suicide Notes. Read Nicholas Lizards review, which included a comment on not knowing any women who have read the book. Well here's one who did. Its fabulous, and I gave it to several men, some of whom felt it was far to vitriolic. So much for sexist sterotyping eh Nicholas?

For anyone wanting misanthropic laugh out loud, this is the one. Buy.
And get better Roger, we want more!
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on 20 February 2010
If you're nauseated by annual round robin letters featuring your friends' uber-talented children and recollection of bijou holidays in far-flung parts of the world, then Roger Lewis' collection is the antidote you need. Acerbic, spiteful, misanthropic, wounded, bitter, critical and very, very funny.
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on 2 April 2010
I bought this book because a review in the Times said he was bitter. I did not expect to laugh so much I cried black mascara all over the pillow night after night. I literally chewed my knuckle trying not to wake up the house laughing, staring at the pages, stunned. Roger Lewis is a self-immolating comedy genius. He splatts the most appalling feelings on the page. He's inappropriate, weak, pathetic, grabbing, foul-tempered, intolerant, wrong and wherever possible drunk. I never thought I could laugh so much at declining health since Margaret Thatcher started keeling forward onto lectern. Please please please please buy this book and send it it people with a sense of humour. It is Godlike and will make them feel better. Bon sante!
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VINE VOICEon 23 December 2009
Sometimes you see book reviews where the critics have said they've wet themselves laughing, crying, beating their heads against walls to stay sane, and so on, or, conversely, where some reviewers (usually a vinegary minority) have sniffed and expressed severe disapproval or mystification. That is the case here with Roger Lewis' most recent book. But the fact is it's wonderful. There is no other writer today who can match Mr Lewis for corrosive wit, poisonous insight, good clean dirty fun, and sheer commonsense about the world we live in.

Buy the book and buy more copies for your friends. You'll have a terrific read and so will they.
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