The new Alan Partridge autobiography is generally a delight due to the successful new collaboration between the Gibbons Brothers, Iannucci and Coogan (also responsible for Mid Morning Matters).
I think it’s most successful when it’s ploughing new ground and filling out the Alan back-story – particularly his formative, early years and relationship with Carol. Where the story begins to overlap with “I’m Alan Partridge” it works less well. For me first series captured the Linton Travel Tavern-era Partridge so memorably. Important people from this part of Alan’s life such as Michael, Lynn, Susan and Sophie are glossed over, and these chapters just aren’t as funny.
But it’s quite fun to compare Alan’s remembered version of events comprared to the documented history. For example his meeting with Tony Hayers in the BBC canteen portrays a completely different series of events to the TV version, culminating in Tony Hayers being disappointed Alan wouldn’t stay for the cheese course and Alan being applauded by BBC staff.
By the by, it really helps if you read the book in the style of Alan Partridge. By which I mean his voice and intonation, rather than necessarily wearing sports-casual, although that’s always an option. You can read out loud, or use your internal reading voice – my internal voice is already very similar to Alan’s so that’s my preferred option. Or just listen to the audio-book.
Here are some choice bits from the first half of the book:
Alan on higher education and challenging convention:
That’s why students and their incessant status quo bashing are so wrong. Challenging convention should be left to those who understand convention – and you can only understand convention if you’ve stuck rigidly to it 99% of the time. That’s basic.
On early days of marriage:
Those first couple of years flew by like a car doing 50 in a 30 zone. Maybe even 60 in a 30 zone. Depends who you ask.
On losing his virginity:
Whereas I was flying my first sorties into sexual territory, Carol had been hymen-free for the best part of six years. My caution didn’t last long though, and within three months I was able to perform my duties quietly, competently and with a minimum of fuss.
On Carol being pregnant for the first time:
The early stages of the pregnancy were equally tough for both of us. For the first ten weeks Carol suffered from almost incessant nausea, not to mention frequent bouts of oral vomiting. while, for my part, I was having hell’s own job getting a reasonable quote for a new fan belt.
Eventually, though, things settled down (I ended up going with NDB Autos on King Street) and we could being to enjoy learning about the different stages of the foetus’s growth. One week it was the size of a pea, another a walnut, then a plum, an apple, a beef tomato, by which time the novelty of being able to equate my child’s size to a mass of a common fruit or vegetable had really started to razz me off.
That’s probably my favourite passage from the book and I would bet any money Iannucci wrote it.
On fame:
If you’d told me in the late 80s that one day my local branch of Tandy would shut its doors to the public so that Alan Partridge could browse its electricals in peace, I’d have thought you were mad. If you’d told me that they would do this at the height of the Christmas shopping period, I’d probably have spat on your back.
On police catering, whilst being held for questioning after shootinng Forbes McAllister:
Through the hatch comes a tray of food. I paw at it listlessly until I notice it contains chicken nuggets. And what chicken nuggets! These boast all the smoky zing of McCain Southern coating with the tenderest cuts of white meat. The beans are lukewarm but not overcooked and a generous dollop of smash adds a buttery finish that sets the plate off beautifully. To drink, a mug of steaming tea. A really, really good meal.
On discovering Carol’s infidelity with a fitness instructor:
Yes, it seems the French-smelling sex provider was Carol’s fitness instructor. Far from being French, he was actually from Luton. His only Frenchness was his cowardly duplicitousness and the kissing he did with my wife.
On catering in the Linton Travel Tavern:
Why not treat yourself to three restaurant meals a day? I know I did. .. Don’t forget that every room had a kettle. That instantly opened the door to everything from cup-a-soups to Pot Noodles. Combine the kettle with the refrigerated mini-bar and – wallop – you’ve got yourself jelly.
More of this later!
