Booky Wook 2: This Time It's Personal
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Picking up where he left off in My Booky Wook, movie star and comedian Russell Brand details his rapid climb to fame and fortune in a shockingly candid, resolutely funny, and unbelievably electrifying tell-all: Booky Wook 2. Brand’s performances in Arthur, Get Him to the Greek, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall have earned him a place in fans’ hearts; now, with a drop of Chelsea Handler’s Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang, a dash of Tommy Lee’s Dirt, and a spoonful of Nikki Sixx’s The Heroin Diaries, Brand goes all the way—exposing the mad genius behind the audacious comic we all know (or think we know) and love (or at least, lust).
Chapter 5 - Digital Manipulation Chapter 6 - No Means NOooo Chapter 7 - Take Me to Your Leader Chapter 8 - The Happiest Place on Earth Chapter 9 - Human Yoghurt Part Two Chapter 10 - Seriously, Do You Know Who I Am? Chapter 11 - Hawaii Not? Chapter 12 - It’s What He Would’ve Wanted Chapter 13 - Hey Pluto! Picture Section Part Three Chapter 14 - They Never Forget Chapter 15 - Come on, Darling, We’re Leaving Chapter 16 - Opportunity Sucks
what I’ve gleaned about evolutionary psychology from Richard Dawkins and the Flintstones, the post-ejaculatory crash is to prevent Fred roaring off out of the cave the second he’s spunked up, smashing that dimwit Barney in the throat and popping something messy up Betty’s loincloth. God that sentence turned me on. I’m going to have to go on a course that addresses the growing problem of w-ank-imation. I do at least give my squandered ejaculant a
Gareth Roy. So enamoured was he of this unremarkable garment that it lodged in his peculiar mind, where it remained untroubled for two years straight, only to come gurgling out as a senseless faux pas when Jack Black once more entered our company. Understandably I was nervous. I was backstage at the David Letterman Show, perhaps the most challenging talk show in the States because Letterman is so laconic a foe. If you displease him he’ll lazily
you can see why he has become the host of a nation’s Friday night. Where confidence ends some new quality is assumed that smoothes you through the evening, relaxed and entertained. Jane will once in a while roll her eyes more deftly than he’ll ever roll an “R” and reminds him that he’s being daft, but they both know it’s thoroughly amusing. Jonathan seemingly himself selects which will be the UK’s next comedy phenomenon, he did it with Vic and
works at its worst, at its most primal, the same cosmic mind that gave us Babe Station, that god-awful network where men “Call 0898 Babe Station”, or Midnight Sluts or whatever, where a woman will cavort about on a bed and you can masturbate down the phone at her as she talks. Imagine that as a use for television. Some people are shocked at Big Brother and reality TV, but when John Logie Baird invented TV he couldn’t have thought, “One day people will be able