Red Carpets and other sleeping pills

I made a huge mistake a couple of days ago on my way from London to Los Angeles.
Terrible, and horrible and irrevocable.
I bought 'Red Carpets and other banana skins' by Rupert Everett.
Just the title should have put me off! Possibly the worst title ever apart from 'The Emancipation of Mimi' of course. But I was standing in Heathrow just about to board the 11 hour flight and realised I had forgot my book. And since I was going to Hollywood and the blurb said:

"He has spent his life surrounded by extraordinary people, and has witnessed extraordinary events. He was in Moscow during the fall of communism; in Berlin the night the wall came down; and at home in downtown Manhattan on September 11th. By the age of seventeen he was friends with Andy Warhol and Bianca Jagger, and since then he has been up close and personal with some of the most famous women in the world: Julia Roberts, Madonna, Sharon Stone, and Donatella Versace."

I thought I might as well do some research.
But the first 100 pages made me almost suicidal. Rupert's childhood was quite boring. And he just went on and on.
And how on earth reading about all his friends made me fall asleep somewhere over Greenland is a mystery. Shouldn't it be interesting to read about Andy, Beatrice Dalle and other cultural icons?
The Berlin wall coming down? The fall of communism anyone? zzzzz
For me it's not a mystery how Rupert isn't that famous compared to is friends. They probably fall asleep before they can offer him a part in their new films!

The proof is in the pudding though.
Please watch Rupert read from his book below.
zzzzzzzzzzzz