If you like train crash autobiographies this is for you. His family were rich and he was unconstrained from his earliest moments. Sebastian was a psychopath towards himself.

He fell in love with Jimmy Boyle, a Scottish murderer, who was ‘redeemed’ by art. Sebastian was in love with the concept of being an artist rather than the actuality, which involved talent and dedication.

He became a drug addict and a trainee homosexual. He did the former rather well and ultimately killed himself with an overdose (2010). The latter he wasn’t so good at. He retells homosexual ‘adventures’ but without the brio of Armistead Maupin and does, in fact, make his adventures seem staged and dull. The porn is there but it just isn’t well done. He also hunted down (female) prostitutes in Soho.

Sebastian had a strong bourgeois DNA. We learn that he was given £150,000 by his father. That he spent £100,000 on a Rolls-Royce, on crack and clothes; £50,000 for a divorce and so on. He gambled and won £500,000 on Stock Market speculation in the 1980s. He was a name-dropping groupie.

An interesting book by a man who had cute one-liners but was shallowness personified.