Thank you to all the good teachers, brave editors and generous readers for your support then and now. They live their childhood years hidden, silenced, fearful of rejection, with acceptance during adolescence as delicate as rice paper and a heavy hand. That this book exists is of course some testament that he did, but the vision of him as MC at that cool Literary Salon confirms it.

Further still, there remains alcohol abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse and addiction and depression issues that far outweigh the local area. If you’d like a signed copy, please get in touch via my Contact page and I’ll send you a signed bookplate.Without a shred of self pity, Damian Barr tells the story of his appalling childhood in a Housing estate near Glasgow and how it (and Maggie Thatcher) shaped his life. By turns funny, tender, and heartbreaking, it is also a useful primer for anyone too young to remember what life was like in the industrial areas of Britain enduring the changes wrought by Thatcherism. Those who identify as straight but non-judgemental and gay-friendly seldom had a twitch when their cocks were wired up and the homoeroticism started to play. To say I loved it doesn't begin to convey the mixture of emotions - tears, laughter, anger - I felt while reading it.

The surprisingly funny and positive story of growing up gay in a working-class town in Thatcher’s Britain. On the one hand Damian Barr despises her, her removing of even the smallest things that might help the poor - she earned the name Milk Snatcher for stopping free milk in all schools, for the strikes that hurt so many in her years as PM, including his father, and her attitude towards homosexuals. They have done really well on stage as you are following the quest of a child who has to survive despite the odds.All through the book I felt fear, anger and contempt for the characters knowing that they still exist and are still holding back youngsters quarter of a century later. A mother who clearly has intelligence yet is thwarted by the society that surrounds her, and a horrific illness. I had lots of questions remaining but loved the pace, built tension, occasional humour, cringe inducing situations and bravery that DB shows. This is the most vital, visceral memoir since Jeanette Winterson’s Why Be Happy When You Can Be Normal?