The dazzlingly funny second volume of Danny Baker's memoirs: the television years.
Since my first book was published I have had countless friends and family members get in touch to say how come I hadn't included this story or that tale. Was I ashamed of being shot twice, once up the arse, in Jamaica Road? How long should a man live with such a secret? If by retrospectively dropping my trousers every few pages I can reveal a fuller picture of myself during these years, then so be it.
Besides. Being shot up the arse. In front of your mates.
What else did I forget?
Industry Reviews
Volume two of Baker's autobiography rattles along at the same delightful and dizzying pace as its predecessor. ..Baker loves a tale told at his own expense and they come thick and fast. He writes like he speaks, with hyperactive garrulity and a rhetorical flourish. ..there is something about Baker in full flow that is affirming. Book three will doubtless be out for next Christmas but, when it comes to the Pangloss of Deptford, you are happy to forgive him the indulgence.
