My Lifey by Paddy McGuinness: Good fun but cliched writing

The comedian and presenter’s vim is well caught

Paddy McGuinness: tells his story randomly as if talking to someone at a bus stop, serving up tea from a flask and a malted milk if they’re waning. Photograph: Mike Marsland/WireImage

Paddy McGuinness: tells his story randomly as if talking to someone at a bus stop, serving up tea from a flask and a malted milk if they’re waning. Photograph: Mike Marsland/WireImage

Everyone knows a Paddy McGuinness. He’s the bloke who has you laughing in the canteen at work or the fella with a smile and a wink at the local garage: cheeky chappies, all. The difference is that this Paddy McGuinness is not cowed or compromised by cameras or a live audience – they spur him on, free-falling to the next anecdote, the next joke.

His autobiography is much the same. In short, all over the place. It’s as if his editor has sat him down to explain chronology, structure, flow, tone, etc and McGuinness – melon-slice grin, dimples like jewels – has responded (in that great Lancashire accent): “Listen pal, thanks a lot but I’m having none of that.”

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