My Sh-t Life So Far
Falha ao colocar no Carrinho.
Falha ao adicionar à Lista de Desejos.
Falha ao remover da Lista de Desejos
Falha ao adicionar à Biblioteca
Falha ao seguir podcast
Falha ao parar de seguir podcast
Assine e ganhe 30% de desconto neste título
R$ 19,90 /mês
Compre agora por R$ 79,99
Nenhum método de pagamento padrão foi selecionado.
Pedimos desculpas. Não podemos vender este produto com o método de pagamento selecionado
-
Narrado por:
-
Angus King
-
De:
-
Frankie Boyle
Sobre este áudio
Ever since being brought up by The Beatles, Frankie Boyle has been a tremendous liar. Join him on his adventures with his chum Clangy The Brass Boy and laugh as he doesn’t accidentally kill a student nurse when a party gets out of hand.
I don't think anyone can have written an autobiography without at some point thinking "Why would anyone want to know this shit?" I've always read them thinking "I don't want to know where Steve Tyler grew up, just tell me how many groupies he f**ked!"'
So begins Frankie's outrageous, laugh-out loud, cynical rant on life as he knows it. From growing up in Pollockshaws, Glasgow (‘it was an aching cement void, a slap in the face to Childhood, and for the family it was a step up'), to his rampant teenage sex drive (‘in those days if you glimpsed a nipple on T.V. it was like porn Christmas'), and first job working in a mental hospital ('where most evenings were spent persuading an old man in his pants not to eat a family sized block of cheese'), nothing is out of bounds.
Outspoken, outrageous and brilliantly inappropriate, Frankie Boyle, the dark heart of Mock the Week, says the unsayable as only he can. From the TV programmes he would like to see made ('Celebrities On Acid On Ice: just like Celebrity Dancing On Ice, but with an opening sequence where Graham Norton hoses the celebrities down with liquid LSD'), to his native Scotland and the Mayor of London ('voting for Boris Johnson wasn't that different to voting for a Labrador wearing a Wonder Woman costume'), nothing and no one is safe from Frankie's fearless, sharp-tongued assault.
Sharply observed and full of taboo-busting, we-really-shouldn't-be-laughing-at-this humour, My Shit Life So Far shows why Frankie Boyle really is the blackest man in show business.
©2009 Frankie Boyle (P)2011 HarperCollinsResumo da Crítica
‘If you like Harry Potter and the Da Vinci Code, why are you even looking at this, you retard?’ – Jimmy Carr
‘If you are suffocating in cosy Christmas cheer, this abrasively cynical, relentlessly misanthropic book might feel like a welcome faceful of ice-cold water straight out of the Clyde.’ – The Sunday Times
‘Quite triumphantly, this is the most abusive, obscene, insulting memoir yet published…Many, many funny lines here. A difficult book to read sedately in public.’ – The Evening Standard
‘He has a shocking, acid-tongued wit and his sharp observations make this one of the funniest autobiographies I’ve read.’ – The Sun
‘An original mix of confession and stand-up monologue … it’s rather gratifying that it’s outselling most of the books by more famous figures.’ – The Guardian
‘A refreshing antidote to the usual feelgood books by TV stars.’ – The Independent
‘My Shit Life So Far, showcases that cruel and unusual comedy that's become Frankie’s trademark, and should probably be enjoyed far away from hot liquids… bizarre, intelligent and abusively hilarious.’ – The List
‘Frequently funny.’ – Heat
‘Biting wit.’ – Independent on Sunday
‘Fans of Boyle's dark style will hope this book provides laughs-a-plenty and an antidote to the play-it-safe, sickly sweet autobiographies of other so-called celebrities. They will not be disappointed.’ – Dave TV
‘Only read this book in public if you have no qualms about blowing coffee through your nose in spurts of guilty laughter … Punchier than a cage fighter, with more disclosures than an episode of Parky … Addictive and expertly brutal.’ – Hotline
‘If you like Harry Potter and the Da Vinci Code, why are you even looking at this, you retard?’ – Jimmy Carr
‘If you are suffocating in cosy Christmas cheer, this abrasively cynical, relentlessly misanthropic book might feel like a welcome faceful of ice-cold water straight out of the Clyde.’ – The Sunday Times