Atack - ARE WE THERE YET?: to indignity . . . and beyond!

For my Uncle, Simon Barnes

Hiya. This is weird. Im sat on the 16.40 train from London Euston to Manchester. Thats not the weird part. The weird part is that Im typing on my own laptop for the first time ever. That is honestly no exaggeration. THE FIRST TIME EVER. Ive obviously typed on a computer before as a kid at school in those shabby little computer rooms that smelt like farts, where it was apparently just the perfect time to flirt with the boy you fancied. Swinging around on your chair and saying things to him like, I might get plastic surgery when Im older, for attention. Or on MSN, or secretly trying to look at minger.com with my mates after school (still feel guilty about that). And there was, of course, Myspace, Bebo, Facebook etc. as I became a teen. But this is genuinely the first time I have ever typed on a laptop that I own. Im 29, and I thought maybe that was a step I should tick off as an adult. So here we are.

Its Wednesday 16 January 2019, and I can honestly say the last year, and especially the last few months, have been the most interesting, insanely challenging, eye-opening and wonderfully life-changing months of my life. I decided to make some very bold decisions and changes, both in my personal wellbeing and in my career. Both of which, over the years, have been at times utterly joyous, and at other times really, REALLY shite. Whose twenties arent sometimes? But by 2018, I had got to a point where things were at a bit of a standstill and I felt unhappy. Dont get me wrong I have been blessed with a great life and so many wonderful things have happened to me that I will be forever grateful for. But I have also found that some of lifes struggles have really got the better of me at times. And as the last year of my twenties was creeping closer, I decided to try to take control of my life, whatever that means.

This book is part of that. Im trying to understand myself more, to work out what I want and to accept that Im an all right human being, really, just how I am. Doing that properly means looking back and reflecting on how I got to this point: all the highs, the lows, the hangovers, the relationships, the lucky breaks and breaks I worked my arse off for that have got me to the here and now. Standing on this exciting but sometimes-bloody-scary precipice of 30, working out how I feel about it and which road I want to go down now. Basically, I hope youre sitting comfortably because youre all my therapists for the next couple of hundred pages. Think of me as that drunk friend who is waffling on in the back of the cab while you scoff your kebab at the end of the long night.

Some of you might know who I am from The Inbetweeners, some of you might only know about me from Im a Celeb , some of you might have watched me in both. A very small (and I mean a teeny tiny amount of you) may have caught me in the odd film or two, on a random channel, on a Sunday night, when you should probably be asleep and there was nothing else on. But none of you will really know the blurry bits and bumpy moments in between. So, I guess this is a book that fills in those blanks. If youre on the tube to work, I hope you have a nice day. If youre in your bedroom, well done for not being on your phone! Light a scented candle, pretend youre an Instagram influencer (probably take a photo to show off) and get cosy.

Ive got my packet of crisps, miniature white wine and my shiny-new-totally-unfancy laptop (Ive accidentally bought one that is absolutely massive. Its certainly not very portable and its actually too big for my lap despite its name, oh and its definitely NOT a Mac), so Im good to make a start.

My earliest memory is when my sister Martha was being born. Nobody believes me, and you wont either, but I was 20 months old and sat in the back of a car with my dads mum, Grandma Doris. (Yes, shes called Doris, ledge.) I remember being sat next to her, when my dad pulled over to have a massive row with a man who had a huge moustache. Thats all I remember. Years later I told my mum that and she said that was when Martha was being born. I swear to God, to this day I remember that. I thought my dad was a hero because he shouted at the big hairy tash man who was scaring me and Grandma. (Although Doris would have absolutely obliterated him if push came to shove. She once grabbed two blokes by the scruff of their necks who broke into her home, whacked them with her gold walking stick and locked them in the bathroom. Shes from Pontefract. Dont worry about it.)

My brother George soon came along, a year after that. I dont remember him being born, but story has it he was so massive that he had to be seriously sucked out by his head, which makes sense because his head is honestly the biggest head you will ever see on a human being.

So, there were three of us. Emily, Martha and George. We sound like a load of Victorian orphans. Martha is very organised, insanely smart, and utterly hilarious. She is extremely compelling, and strong-willed. Anybody who meets her never forgets her. Shes powerful, yet really warm I think its quite special to have a solid balance of the two. People call it middle child syndrome because the middle one is often left to fend for themselves slightly more than if they were born first or last, and I think that has always worked in Marthas favour. Since we were kids, she has always been getting me out of the shit. (She now happens to be my agent, so definitely still getting me out of the shit. But at least I can finally pay her to do it.)

In case I havent made it clear enough yet, I bloody love her. Shes my twin soul. You know the way twins say they can feel it if the other one has hurt themselves, or they get a strange feeling when one of them is in trouble or upset by something? Were convinced we can do that. Martha has called me some mornings knowing that Ive had a rough nights sleep, or that somethings troubling me: Im getting a twin vibe whats wrong? Its bizarre!

Then theres George. Hes a six-foot-one, very hairy, guitar-playing veggie who loves to travel and cook and garden. His phone is always smashed to pieces and he loses his bank card every weekend but he will give you the Black Sabbath t-shirt off his back and make you howl with laughter at any given opportunity. Everybody adores being in Georges company because he has that skill of making you feel like youre the only person in the room when hes talking to you. Hes like a hungover Jesus. It took him a while to find his feet in life, and he certainly had his struggles. Put it this way the police used to describe him as a joy to arrest. George was always, ALWAYS in trouble. But his charm and kindness have always won people over in the end.

Being three siblings born within a few years of each other meant an unbreakable closeness; despite the variety of head sizes we were like triplets. We shared a bedroom (Martha and George in a bunk and me in the corner in a very over-the-top double bed like a diva). We played nicely together, we got bollocked together. A trio of different personalities united by our sense of humour and god, we were loved. Our parents smothered us with love.

Mum and Dad. Wow, where to even begin. Lets start with Mum.

My mum, Kate, raised on the Wirral, now queen of jazz bars in Soho, was once described as one hell of a woman by a fan who came over to her at one of her shows. I was about nine at the time, and I remember thinking that was a perfect way to describe her. Mums first big break in showbusiness was writing the song Surprise, Surprise for Cilla Black. Later, her hit More Than In Love got to number two in the charts. She went on to become an actress, impressionist, comedian, the lot. Shes even represented the UK in Eurovision (they came third, smashed it). Her talents know no bounds and shes the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world. Okay, I know Im biased, but seriously shes utterly, wonderfully bonkers. (The anagram of Kate Robbins is a bit bonkers.)