Rating: 4 stars
I spied this book on the bookshelf of a friend one drunken New Year’s Eve not so long ago. I asked if I could borrow it, but was too drunk to remember to bring it home with me once the midnight chimes had rung the new year in and our bodies had pleaded with us to take them home to bed. So I bought my own copy.
I have loved Reeves and Mortimer since they burst onto my late night TV screen in the 1990s. We recently went to see them live on their 25th Anniversary Tour. I ached with laughing so hard.
I decided to read Vic’s autobiography to rehabilitate myself after the trauma of GB84. I’m cautious about reading the autobiographies of people whose work I love in case they turn out to be horrible. I needn’t have worried, though. Not only was it the tonic I needed, but Vic Reeves, aka Jim Moir, aka Rod Moir, revealed himself to be just as daft, clever and likeable as his TV persona suggests. I laughed out loud a few times and annoyed my husband by reading passages out to him. Splendid stuff!