Quite fun, of course. Also quite exhausting as his manic side predominates. Hyperactive workaholic, namedropping, often drug-fuelled. ( )

I was a bit disappointed with this latest instalment of Stephen Fry's autobiography. There are some amusing stories but a lot of the book comprises exerts from his diary during 1993 when he seemed to do little other than write a bit, socialise a good deal more and take what seems an extraordinary amount of cocaine. It lacked his usual self-deprecating humour and felt like a bit of a cop-out. ( )

The third installment in Fry's series of memoirs, this one covers the late 1980s through 1993. The book can be broken down into three parts; the middle bit is the actual memoir part and is just as enjoyable as the earlier two books, but the first section is a summary, essentially, of those first two books and the last part is a lightly edited reproduction of his diary entries for the last half of 1993. So it feels sort of...slipshod? Phoned in? Like maybe the publisher wanted this more than Fry wanted to write it? I dunno. Anyway. I still love him to bits even if this one was a bit disappointing. ( )

Part 3 of an autobiography of sorts. It consists of several parts that provide a recap of Fry’s early life up to his break-through in Blackadder and Fry and Laurie. Next he writes about his coke addiction (a period of 15 years) and how it works on a day-to-day basis. The final chunk consists of diary notes in the second half of 1993, giving a wonderful overview of his busy daily life in that period.

With hindsight Stephen wonders himself how he could have achieved such productivity levels (writing sketches for Fry and Laurie, writing his second novel, doing Voice Overs for commercial products to hark in some money, reviewing scripts, going on book signing sprees all over the country, joining in Tv shows and university events, shooting a movie flick for the Labour party taking the piss outta them, and the Tories), while at the same time engaging in such debauchery – sniffing lines of coke in the loo, playing poker at the Groucho club, attending opening nights of operas and movies, organising dinner parties, making anagrams of the names of invited guests, sniffing some more coke, etc. What is remarkable in the extreme is that Fry does not seem to have any love life or sex life – he only alludes to some tempting young God here and there, but no action on his part. The style of writing is ‘vintage Fry’ – half the time making depreciating notes to self, castigating his own naughtiness.

In between all this banter, Fry shares some homilies and truisms, for which I have come to adore him (remember the dialogue with the Anglican bishop where he wonders what God meant with leukaemia in young kids?). Just some titbits: Fry observes that despite the bullying and trolling that youngsters face these days, each teenager lives a better life now than one hundred years ago when ‘physical punishments, cruel sadistic beatings and sexual abuse went unquestioned in schools and in the home’ (p.42). When he has the opportunity to acquaint himself with William Goldman, Fry asks what Robert Redford is really like. Answer: ‘tell me what you would be like if for twenty-five years you had never heard the word “no”’ (p.75). The key line in Oscar Wilde’s ‘The importance of being earnest’ that turned out to be such an epiphany for the young Fry, setting him off giggling throughout the night and paving his own future career as a linguist and comic, is cited many times in the autobiography: ‘I hope Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection?’ A nice anecdote on Sir John Mills, his wife and lady Di shows the kind of fun the British upper class excels at. When Fry probes John on the secret of his marriage, John explains that they still behave like naughty teenagers to each other. Once at a dinner with lady Di in attendance, he scribbled a small naughty note to his wife, inviting her for some hanky-panky at his place. He has the note delivered to the ‘ravishing blonde’ by a waiter. But then the guy drops the note by mistake with lady Di. Diana read the note, had the writer pointed out for her, and blew him a kiss. ( )

Brilliant, belly achingly funny and, at times, hearbreaking insight into this famous actor's/writer's/comedian's/activist's days of addiction. Brutally honest portrait of his fears, insecurities, friendships and much, much more. Anecdotes that will make you laugh, cringe, worry and, mildly put, go through a full spectrum of emotions. Stunning dissection of a genius mind. ( )