I felt after reading this book exactly the same as I did
after reading Bonkers by
Jennifer Saunders. Underwhelmed. So you’ve had a nice suburban life and
then you grew up to be funny and pleasant. Some bumps along the way, nothing
catastrophic. Some solid achievements in a male dominated field. You are human and
I like you. The only point at which I was filled with the “bed shaking”
laughter promised to me by my heroes Leigh Sales and Annabel Crabb was Amanda’s
dry recall that her husband’s porn name- the combination of your first pet and
first street- was Carol Eastcote. I laughed and laughed and laughed at that.
In searching for a link to Jennifer Saunders’ autobiography
I also discovered that there was an unauthorised biography written the same
year. ~OooooOOOOOOohhhhh~. I’m sad that it’s not salacious, otherwise I would
read that too. In the end she said
it was “surprisingly kind and nice about me”. Boo.
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