I’m not sure why I wrote it, or more accurately, I’m not prepared to tell you the real reasons. In fact I’m not even prepared to be honest with myself about its purpose.

It could have been a cathartic exercise to purge myself of the demons it alludes to. It could be an attempt to gain fame and fortune (unlikely), or simply an act of vanity (likely) – there can surely be no more narcissistic act than writing a memoir?

It could have been an attempt to gain immortality, a record of my insignificant existence on the planet (probably).  It could just have been that I wanted to set the record straight or maybe to apologise for my behaviour (evidently) – you’ll have to read it and decide.