When I picked this book up I had no idea who Julian Clary was. I hadn't seen his television shows, his theatrical performances, not even seen a photo of him. In short, I never heard of him.
Nevertheless, this book may very well endure beyond him. I cannot say that I've recently read anything which speaks so eloquently. If you have known sorrow, and mirth, the kind of thing for which we remember Christopher Isherwood, then you may both understand and appreciate this surprising book. Clearly, Clary erroneously believes that only those familiar with his career would be interested in this spritely trip down Clary's passage from adolescent fantasies of future fame to his relatively early grasp of profound, and conflicted, human feeling. I am thankful to have shared a part of this frank journey with him. As memoirs go this is certainly among the more honest and deep.
Besides, you will laugh alot--as Twain noted, the most uniquely human of experiences.