russell brand's autobiographical book of embarrassing nonsense 'my booky wook'. now this is not to say that the book is nonsense to read, it's just that his life story really is full of absolutely shameful and ridiculous incidents. he's so articulate is our russell which makes the book so engaging. every few chapters i stop and think, "between his failed education and all the years spent on heroin and various other narcotics, when the hell did he manage to take in so much culture and understanding of the english language?! it baffles me. and as a hopeful journalist also kind of sickens me.
he really is the anti-hero. some of his antics are so outrageous (yet hilarious) that one might doubt whether he deserved his fame, but there's also such a genuine honesty in his memoir that it makes you think he's justitfiably entitled to everything he's achieved.
his long suffering mum who is often the subject of his relayed tales has obviously, and brand himself admits, shaped the person he was to become. not that she led him down the gruesome path of drugs and slags but in terms of his desire to be the centre of attention. and let's face it, what good is a comedian who shys away from entertaining people? nice work missus, i mean can you imagine the comdedy world without russell brand?! ponderland anyone? bah ha ha ha hah! not even gonna get started on his role in 'forgetting sarah marshall', pisser.
so what i'm trying to say people is read this book, it might save your life. russell brand is living proof that you can make every wrong/bad/ludicrous decision in the book and still come out on top. on that note i'm off to do some homewrecking, smoking and generally to make an absolute nuisance of myself (habits i've recently adopted), cos russell brand did worse things than i'm doing and look where it got him.
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