When I saw Why Do I Say These Things? by Jonathan Ross last week I was in two minds whether or not to buy it. I like Jonathan Ross; I might even go sufficiently far to describe myself as a fan.

But, without wishing to sound mean to the chap, it’s his presenting skills and his sense of humour that appeal to me. I’m not really that bothered about his teenage angst, or what it was like for him going to school: I simply want him to entertain me, dammit.

But fortunately for me, this is precisely what the book is and does. It is not, repeat not, a biography. Anyone wishing to read a biography of Jonathan Ross would be better advised to look elsewhere. What it is, and does, is provide a collection of anecdotes in his usual style.

Some of these deal with harsh realities of life — a badly injured pet — and still come out funny:

The once proud and glossy cat that we used to practically fight to grab and stroke had been replaced by a mangy one-eyed drooling thing that occasionally would look up to you with his one good eye and sneeze, showering cat snot and watered down meat paste over your face.

Jonathan Ross: Why Do I Say These Things?

I was slightly surprised, when looking this book up, to discover that technically, it doesn’t appear to have been published yet — the publication date is listed as the 7th May 2009 — and yet it was certainly on sale on W.H. Smiths in Newcastle at the back end of April, as that is where and when I bought it.

The title of the book couldn’t really be any more appropriate, as those of you who remember the “Brand/Ross affair” may be interested to note that the book was first published in hardback at pretty much precisely the time of the media shitstorm. It is worth noting therefore that the book does not include anything about this: it is a selection of humourous anecdotes dating from before Sachsgate and the ensuing media witch hunt.

He offers an interesting perspective on what it is like to become a celebrity, and how it feels odd that everyone else feels they know you and have opinions about you when you’ve never actually met them (well, if you’re watching Jonathan, I’m more than happy to go out for a pint sometime, or appear on your show — you only have to ask).

I was reading it while waiting to pick my son up from school, and he was wondering why I was laughing out loud. Fortunately, it was one of the stories I could actually relate. Picture the scene: Jonathan is on a diet…

…seemed to offer the benefits of the Atkins diet with a delightful get-out-of-jail-free clause [...] for one hour, after dinner, you could eat what you liked. [...] Now, with the benefit of hindsight — always a wonderful thing after the event — I realise that they probably meant that you can eat anything within reason as a little reward for being so good the rest of the day. [...] Not, as Jane and I chose to interpret it, as much as humanly possible in those sixty golden minutes, especially all those foods and treats that are clearly going to make you swell up like Augustus Gloop.

Jonathan Ross: Why Do I Say These Things?

Jonathan stuck firmly to his diet: only eating twelve portions worth of tiramisu in the ‘golden hour’, and was somewhat disappointed later to discover that somehow he’d actually managed to put on weight…

His stories about teenage boys and their attitudes and perspectives on sex are funny, and are things that for the most part I can identify with, but fortunately for Jonathan — as it’s helped him write a book — and fortunately for me — as I don’t think these things were necessarily positive — there were some places where we differed.

I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much before at stories of someone burning the skin off their penis, or getting it stuck in a hoover. Mind you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone relate these sort of tales to me before either, so I don’t really have a comparison.

It really is that laugh out loud funny thing. At least, I laughed out loud regularly when I was reading it. I suspect that if you don’t like Jonathan’s sense of humour, you might want to give this one a miss, but if you do like it, then I would very much expect you will enjoy the book.

I loved it. It also covers his dress sense (or whatever you’d call it), religion, and his general inability with foreign languages, which is the one I’ll leave you with:

I was so excited to be having a conversation in French with someone who spoke almost no English that I blundered on. I had since worked out that I had told him that I had chosen it [a suit Jonathan was wearing on a sun-lounger] especially to wear on the snow, and that I was sorry my children had injured the hotel pigs.

Jonathan Ross: Why Do I Say These Things?