I think if you have a friend that’s tetraplegic you have to be quite chatty, because obviously the typing takes him so long,” he says, in a remark that feels like one of his jokes but isn’t. “We’d do shots together sometimes too. His care team said tequila would be too much, so he’d be on the Cointreau.” He says the uproar was far worse than anything he has faced over offensive jokes. Even the prime minister at the time, David Cameron, got involved. “I’m not an expert on tax accounting, but I think if the prime minister of the country where you live has broken off from the G20 in Mexico to talk about your personal tax affairs and called you out and named you, that might be a problem.” He seems to mean it, too. It may not have been for me, but if the book helps anyone else reach the same level of contentment as Carr seems to have, maybe he’s on to something. This article was amended on 1 October 2021. Some text was changed to be consistent with our editorial guidelines on references to disability.

From prioritising the future over the present, to understanding the benefits of laughter, and from working on your disposition to finding your edge, Carr suggests some key pillars to help us free ourselves from punishing patterns of behaviour and negative internal voices, so that we can pursue our dreams. Carr is an engaging presence – friendly, enthusiastic, happy to answer uncomfortable questions, albeit with an unnervingly intense stare at times. He seems a little dejected when I tell him I was more interested in the memoir sections of the book. But he rarely gives much of himself away, so it’s interesting to read such personal material. The book covers most of his life, from growing up in Slough and going to university at Cambridge to meeting his partner of 20 years, the TV producer Karoline Copping, and hosting shows such as 8 Out of 10 Cats. He may not think his showbiz stories are particularly interesting, but I loved hearing about his friendship with Stephen Hawking, whom he would take out for a curry and a musical. He delves into specific moments and incidents in his own life that shows how he managed to make it work for him. And because we're talking Jimmy Carr here, there are jokes, jokes and more jokes throughout. This is self-analysis through the power of laughter at its most rewarding. I think if you have a friend that’s tetraplegic you have to be quite chatty, because obviously the typing takes him so long,” he says, in a remark that feels like one of his jokes, but isn’t. “We’d do shots together sometimes too. His care team said tequila would be too much so he’d be on the Cointreau.” There's two things going on. One is when people would have thought 'oh, he's doing alright'. And then the other thing is when you think ' I'm doing alright.A recent review said: “Many of his one-liners are barely jokes at all, just boorish cliches.” But Carr is unflappable when it comes to defending his act. “To be punching down you need to be looking down. And it’s saying you can’t joke about those people, because they can’t take it … whereas, actually, some people with disabilities like really rough, dark stuff.” He laughs: “Is this making me sound like an incel elder? I did have opportunities but I was bad at reading the signs and I would friend-zone people. A lot of girls I was very, very close to growing up, we had incredibly intimate relationships, but we didn’t have a physical relationship and it was lovely …” Already anticipating his next tour, he has challenged himself to modify his short-form, gag-heavy form of stand-up. He seems to mean it, too. It may not have been for me, but if the book helps anyone else reach the same level of contentment as Carr seems to have, maybe he's on to something. – Guardian

Reflecting upon his accomplishments, Carr told Dane Baptiste on his podcast that "I'm writing this thing at the moment, thinking about the past a lot, when I became a success. From prioritising the future over the present to understanding the benefits of laughter, and from working on your disposition to finding your edge, Jimmy takes us through some key pillars to help us free ourselves from punishing patterns of behaviour and negative internal voices, so that we can pursue our dreams. Carr opens up admirably in the book about his mental health, his problem drinking and the grief he experienced when his mother died in 2001, just as his comedy career was beginning. “I found the book incredibly cathartic to write,” he says. “Especially about my mother. There’s that lovely phrase, that you die twice – once when you die, and again the last time someone says your name. So I loved that thing of being able to talk about my mum.” Carr is an engaging presence – friendly, enthusiastic, happy to answer uncomfortable questions, albeit with an unnervingly intense stare at times. He seems a little dejected when I tell him I was more interested in the memoir sections of the book. But he rarely gives much of himself away, so it’s interesting to read such personal material.As a result he spent his first 12 years of comedy success avoiding alcohol completely. “Which was much better. You have better conversations. The only thing about being sober around comedians is that, around 2am, you might as well f**k off home. You’re just going to be told the same anecdote again.” Exploring how the comedian found personal and professional happiness, Before & Laughter will be published by Quercus on 28th September.