David Mitchell, who you may understand for his improper anger on every TV panel display except Never Mind the Buzzcocks, his look of permanent discomfort on C4 sex comedy Peep Present, his online commenter-baiting in The Observer or simply for sporting a stick-on moustache for the reason that Mitchell and Webb Appearance, has written a publication about his life.

As well as giving a particular account of each single time he’s scored some smack, this disgusting memoir also details:

• the singular, pitbull- about David Mitchell: Back again Story infested appeal of the FRP (‘Flat Roofed Pub’)

• the curious French habit of injecting everyone in the arse as opposed to the arm

• why, by enough time he surely got to Cambridge, he actually, actually needed a drink

• the pain of being denied a years as a child birthday party at McDonalds

• the satisfaction of writing jokes about suicide

• how doing quite a lot of travelling London helps with his sciatica

• aiming to pretend he isn’t a total **** at Robert Webb’s wedding

• that he offers fallen in love at Great deal, but rarely completed anything about it

• why it would be even worse to bump into Michael Palin than Hitler on holiday

• that he’s not David Mitchell the novelist. Despite what David Miliband might think