Dem Vater bleibt nichts anderes übrig als die Scherben zusammenzukehren, wenn in der Familie wieder etwas zu Bruch geht. Combined with the fulfilment of a recklessly wonderful dream at the end, this left me warmly reaffirmed at the end. Peter is channelling Oscar Wilde in all his gloriousness and as such his narrative reads like that of a much older person with a wonderful command of the English language.

You will see chaos and flood of insecurities and stupidity and height of delusion in some chapters and then calmness and stability in some. One dimensional, Dora always angry, swearing , shouting and screaming at Mum, Oscar, slightly better but still…. Now this is in the blurb right but somewhere in the middle of the story, it’s like the plot is not progressing.Not so much a narrated story as a series of diary extracts from each of the characters where we learn of their highs and lows, faults and failings, talents, hopes and dreams. She's also self-obsessed and instead of attending Dora's eighteenth birthday party, she takes off to a hotel to meet her would-be lover - who fortuitously doesn't turn up.

A family of non-dimensional characters spouting about their boring, middle-class lives with nary a sentence that isn't boiling with cliches.

Dawn's autobiography was so funny and I couldn't put it down and this book was the complete opposite. Kudos to Dawn French for having her own amazing style which she so wanted to have when she started writing fiction (Do you know she is a comedian? Mo is prepared to do something completely different to bring change to her dull life and which is a big step away from being a wife and mum.