Was Fry's usual entertaining read, but I had a bit of trouble connecting on such a personal level as the previous two. I suppose the drug use thing was the problem, cos I’ve never done drugs… A large chunk of the book was his diary from 1993. It was entertaining in its own right, but it used up a huge chunk of the book, where I would have liked some new stuff. Seemed a bit of a short cut, but Stephen Fry does so many things it’s excusable I suppose. Did like the insight into how the process of writing The Hippopotamus went though.