Good god, someone's given Tim Lovejoy a book contract. You can tell how much thought was put into its creation by the enormous size of the font therein, delivering what the publisher probably refers to as 'a sideways take' or 'the no-holds-barred opinions' of the last bastion of football laddism. For my actual paid writing job I was sent for review Jimmy Greaves' book of last year, a 350 page litany about how it was so much better in the old days when there weren't all these cameras and divers. This is much the same, only written by someone under gainful employment by Sky Sports with all the Premiership grandstanding that implies.

I know it's because Jordan's thousand volumes of autobiography have sold, and I'm aware nobody really ever waited before putting pen to paper in showbiz, but the stories are getting fewer as the contracts get more populous. Chris Moyles has a second autobiography out, when you wonder where he'd get the time. Much hated shock jock well after the term became redundant Jon Gaunt has set out his life story, promoted by an interview in today's Guardian that contains the word 'liberal' five times in six paragraphs. I suspect he has issues of personal standing. At least Richard Hammond's supposed autobiography, a full priced hardback with the requisite heroic movie star with puppydog eyes picture of the cranialy scarred ruffly-haired second most likeable Top Gear presenter on the cover, knows its audience. The 'a jet car crashed under me, it did' story begins on page 54 and continues to the end.

The Thick Of It script book has every regular character on the cover except Hugh Abbott. Subtle.