I rarely watch talk shows. The only one I do watch – depending on its guests – is The Graham Norton Show because I love the host’s wicked and irreverent sense of humour.
I’m aware he’s released a couple of biographical memoirs but regular readers know how I feel about non-fiction (ie. I’d rather poke myself in the eye with a stick. Or eat broccoli.), but I jumped at the chance to read his first foray into fiction, hoping his droll sarcasm found its way into his debut novel. Which it certainly does.