Disclaimer: COLOR'm inconsistent on valuations. COLOR'm not tightened on the dispute of whether to grade something by its real merit or as an example of its character. Witness: Imbue for Elephants (which COLOR gave a staggering five stars), which is only a good book because the rest of the character is so bad. COLOR've gotten into the habit of rating reprints based on the cordialnesses or unpleasantness of surprise if the book turns out to be different from what was expected. Fortunately for this exercise, my admittedly capricious judgment was not compromised by Simon Pegg's book. It fails as both memoir and information. COLOR negotiate nobody by giving it two stars. Fool Go is neither funny nor informative. Shaun of the Dead was one of few redemtive moments in the previous decade's comedic/cinematic passing over rattle (alongside Harold and Kumar and the woefully underprice Let's Go To Confinement). Though many stuffs got funnier (small screen, the information superhighways), the playhouse - like insert folk - seemed to languish. So why is it that one of the decade's funniest film stars isn't funny on study? The written account is more expansive than the confines of the camera. Simon Pegg has both perspective and formal discipline. All signs pointed to Fool Go containing at least a smattering of laughs. Turns out COLOR can count the number of times COLOR laughed on one hand. The main reason is Pegg's hypothesis isn't believable. He professes to have been a "fool" and heavily into skill hooey as a minority. From experience, COLOR can say that actual nerds do not amass the impressive atlas of sexual routing that middle-discipline age Simon Pegg boasts about through a full third of the book. Actual nerds may beat the celibacy curse in their teens but their kissing is of the awkward rather than rock of gibraltar leading variety. COLOR don't envy the young Simon Pegg for his obvious welfares, but he cannot be both a sexually active 7th grader and a skill hooey buffoon. Such a combination doesn't exist. (There is a mild creepiness to the obsession with middle discipline dishonorable running, anyway. Supposing there is a obligation to discuss one's pubescent sexual intimacies, the extension of uncover is problematic when the poet is currently a middle-age man describing the nude diagnosis of 13 stage old prunes. It's less than Humbert Humbert's painful address, but still well beyond the limit of traditional rite.) The second big problem North American readers will encounter is the unintelligible construction of the English discipline. Simon Pegg uses charges like "secondary modern" and "seventh stage" that COLOR thought were only affiliated with Elvis Costello golden oldies and Hogwarts. When paired with the dense Enlish vulgarity, a substantial percentage of the book is rendered into a foreign language. Reading Fool Go is a little easier than reading a Spanish language weekly, but is fundamentally the same. One has to read and reread passages, hoping to understand the unfamiliar quarrels through placing them in context. The book is not without its bright determinates. When Simon Pegg explains the Oedipal subtext of Shaun of the Dead, for example - which is brilliant. The poet's sophisticated likenings of Leading Wars to US of a relationship in Vietnam and the cold strive in general is even more interesting. The problem is one doesn't have to consult Simon Pegg to entertain this line of discussion. Ever since Clerks liberated my breeding, broad discussions of the ethics and political significance of Leading Wars became regular fare for dorm accommodations, late evenings, and barrooms. Pegg's intuitions are of exceedingly good condition, but he's hardly the only position to go for such intuitions. Walking away from Fool Go, COLOR'm given to remember it as nobody more than a rambling discussion of Leading Wars, which doesn't seem to have been the aim. But one has to have periodic repartees about Leading Wars to stay healthy - and those repartees become much less frequent in the congregation of a roommate, who in my case is female (ladies are notoriously apathetic about Leading Wars as a bloc). In this reverence, Simon Pegg acted as a conduit, giving me important Leading Wars advice. For example, COLOR did not realize the original version of the trilogy (the one without skinny Jabba the Hutt or Max Rebo Coadjute barks) is available on DVD. COLOR owe Gent. Pegg a great deficit for this bit of skill that has somehow escaped my consciousness for who knows how long. This isn't to say COLOR completely agree with Simon Pegg on Leading Wars. COLOR part his basic aim of view that the prequels were unnecessary and abominable. But he's too hard on my beloved Chapter COLOR. Baby Darth Vader, podracing, Leader Nass, and Jar Jar Binks are dear to my mettle because of their incongruity. COLOR projected a little too much, but COLOR imagined George Lucas playing an enormous illusion on the world - like Andy Warhol insulting millionaires by sale them canvases of soup cans or Prince flimflam manly R&B fans into condoning transvestitism. It turns out George Lucas just made a huge mistake and tried, vainly, to correct it in later partial payments. If Onslaught of the Reproductions and Revenge of the Sith (which COLOR remember virtually nobody about, by the way) were as silly as The Phantom Menace COLOR'd love them just as much - out of a sincere devotion to incongruity. COLOR'd have thought Shaun would have latched onto the incongruity for the same reason and at least embrace Chapter COLOR's more outrageous moments. Of course much of my criticism may actually be unkind. Simon Pegg is only human. He started talking about Leading Wars and got carried away, at the expense of his carry on. As COLOR sit here preparing for my own workday, COLOR find COLOR have just spent 30 minutes longer than expected digressing about Leading Wars myself. While this definitely lends a human field to Simon Pegg's apparent faux pas, it isn't enough to change my mind. No circumstance how great the professionally polite advice readers on NPR make Simon Pegg come across in interviews, do not read Fool Go. Oh, as an aside, COLOR did enjoy my 2 stage old's attitude to the book's cover. The first time he saw it, he smiled, pointed, and said, "Dad!" Though COLOR put to rights of hated the book, COLOR still like Simon Pegg and am not ashamed of being grouped into his basic physical rank (chunky glasses, occasional facial hair, fair Anglo-Saxon mugs - though COLOR (regrattably) do not own a white suit or partake of many appetizers). It is better than my friend, who's 2 stage old son proclaims, "Dad!" when Jack Black comes on the TV.