How Not to Grow Up: A Coming of Age Memoir. Sort of. by Richard Herring
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This book is required reading for any Richard Herring fan, though don’t get your hopes up too much. Two thirds of the book is him wallowing in self pity so it’s not very entertaining. There are a few very funny moments thankfully. The start of the book was incredibly funny, the author regaled all the fights he’s had in his life. After that, it gets a bit verbose and dry. All in all, it is good to know how he ended up finishing his life of debauchery to settle down with his soulmate. He is a skillful writer and given his potty-mouth on the comedy circuit, I was actually impressed with his level of diction.

All right they might have been fifteen, but I was only looking. That’s not a crime. We can look. As long as we don’t touch. They can’t stop us looking! This is our democratic right. If a 39-year-old man can’t stare lasciviously at the bare legs of a fifteen-year-old girl then Al-Qaeda has won.

I just need to recuperate. To take stock. All right?! And if decide that that it will help if I am wanked off by a ladyboy then it is no one’s business but my own!

And yet it struck me that so many people who use ‘childish’ as a pejorative term and who see themselves as sensible and grown up, also believe in life after death and a big man in the sky who is watching over them always and judging everything they do. These people however are rarely chastised for being puerile or silly or at least take great offense when they are.

But then maybe the Virgin Mary likes to use her magical powers to make inanimate, tacky objects weep for a short period of time, rather than cure sick children or banish world poverty. Anything is possible.

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