It was the worst one I could find.
A kinda-review of Trevor Noah's autobiography: Born a Crime - Stories From a South African Childhood.
Some mumbles and grumbles about how everything is awful and I hate myself and some other generic moaning buzz-phrases; come hither, reader, and, err, read.
A few reflections on adolescence - written whilst I was supposed to be revising, of course.
Read on for magic and wonder.