If this was a funeral, it would be the loudest, drunkest wake ever, followed by a beery blether about the old dead bastard til the sun comes up.
If this was put onto the desk of your average Hollywood producer, it would be bought for MILLIONS. "Goddammit Joel, get Murray in London on a conference right now! Somebody just dropped two hundred minutes of uncut Wacky Date Montage on my desk and I need Hugh Grant STAT!"
If this was a private schoolkid, it would be the one who runs the odds on the nags and earns thousands of pounds from students and teachers alike before he's hit grade nine. And every year his parents receive an uninspiring report card bemoaning his lack of interest in the smallest measure of academic self-improvement.
If this was written by me, it would be called "The Too Much Drinking Diaries 1997-2007" and prescribed to brave and chronic insomniacs only.
I always knew I liked David Mitchell, but now it's official; he's like, in my top ten favourite people of all time list.
An incredibly candid exploration of a few of the religious and cultural elements of that great and varied nation, India. Love it or hate it, there's just something about it...
If this was a restaurant, it would serve Springbok kebabs with a union jack spiked, half-jokingly, into the top.
If this was a Lonely Planet guide to Portland, Oregon, it would be the SHEEZY.
If this was an evening at home, it would be a rainy night spent sitting in your favourite chair by the fire with a thick letter from a fond friend going through difficult times. There’d also be cups of tea and chocolate biscuits.
If this was an autobiography, it would be effing awesome, but I’d also like to imagine that Chuck will always be too busy out there doing stuff to pen his own memoirs.