The second of Stephen Fry's autobiographies, this covers his release from prison, his time at Cambridge, and becoming successful (and very rich). It ends just as he starts taking Cocaine (Mmmm). I thought it could do with being a bit shorter, and it also could have done with less apologies regarding his upbringing, class, education, insecurities and hangups, although he admits himself that he goes on about it a lot. Books like this make me feel more stupid than l already am, with its tales of people playing chess blindfolded, and Fry himself memorising large chunks of Shakespeare, including where the references originated from. Bastard. I will however, forgive him if he swells the coffers (oooeer!!) of my paypal account.