Patrick Freyne is a funny guy and he's a really great writer but I could only take this book in small doses. Everyone has friends who only talk in non-stop banter and that's pretty much what this entire book felt like. Every sentence is sculpted to be exactly as funny and clever as the previous one and, I dunno, that sounds like it should be a good thing but the non-stop patter of it was just exhausting. Like being assaulted by bon mots. There are a couple of chapters in here that felt honest and sincere and those were really lovely, but some of the rest felt like a real stretch.