I Didn't Get Where I Am Today by David Nobbs

Another tankard of your finest, mine host!

Being so much nicer a person than I, you wouldn't take against someone because they were in the habit of calling pub landlords "mine host" or saying "we must all have fun, folks," and littering their writing with exclamation marks to indicate humour. So you'll have no problems with this autobiography by David Nobbs, writer of The Fall And Rise of Reginald Perrin, A Bit of a Do, Second to Last in the Sack Race and other comic hits.

You have also to be able to tolerate the "I almost but I didn't" anecdote. At the Majestic in Harrogate, a "majestic lady" told him "'Our daughter's coming out.' I longed to say, 'Really? What was she in for?' but of course I didn't."

Were David not so hampered by the problems of making "a politically incorrect joke", he would now long to say "Were you aware she's a lesbian?" It's the way he doesn't tell them. Let's do that with Nobbs on. It's the way he doesn't tell 'em! Marvellous. Another tankard of your finest, mine host!

David went to Marlborough School, where he was raped by a fellow pupil whose face he can't remember, though it happened in broad daylight. On another occasion he had his trousers pulled down so eight boys could beat him with a rope. This chapter is entitled "An Unlucky Backside". He's anxious to keep the tone light; not always a good idea. Later, Nobbs finds himself prone to fainting fits which defy medical diagnosis. Uncle Sigmund could give a few pointers on that one. Exclamations all round, stout yeoman of the bar!

National Service was the usual misery of lousy food, square bashing and wasted time. After that Nobbs went to Cambridge where he "turned his back on politics", though there wasn't much evidence of him having his front to it. He had some "irresolute fumblings" with another chap, wore a duffel coat and started writing for Granta. He encloses examples of this juvenilia, which is brave. Not funny, but brave.

When he wrote for other voices, it was a different kettle of fish. An early monologue for Beryl Reid, included here, is absolutely pitch-perfect. A sketch for That Was The Week That Was leaps off the page and is still funny, and a snatch of dialogue from Reginald Perrin reads as classic comedy.

It's only with his own life that he's heavy-handed. After a stint on a local paper and a bedsit period in London, Nobbs hit gold with comedy writing, hitched up with Mary, his wife of many years, and went to live in Barnet. He nearly spoke to Kingsley Amis in the pub, but of course he didn't.

The photos show David in some awful jumpers with comedians and thesps. Being a nice guy, he has only nice things to say about everyone. Now he lives with his second wife, Susan, in an idyllic cottage, drinks at the Hare and Hounds and the Lamb and Flag, and tries to bring "some brief joy through laughter". Being a nicer person than I, you won't find this even slightly nauseating.