my first 21 years

I was surprised to read in the Metro today that:

Andy Murray has launched a stinging attack on his fellow British tennis players, accusing them of being too pampered and lacking the hunger to succeed.

Actually that wasn't the thing that shocked me. Andy Murray having a gripe is hardly front page news. The surprising thing is the source of the story - Andy's autobiography, Hitting Back.

He has an autobiography? He's, what, 12?

Okay I exaggerate but I just feel a bit perplexed at the spate of young sports stars and celebrities publishing their life stories before they've really begun to live. Twenty-two year old Cristiano Ronaldo has his memoir, Moments - although from what I've seen it's mainly pictures; Charlotte Church (also tenty-two) fills her Keep Smiling with terms like 'lush' to prove it wasn't ghost written... many of my pupils obviously use her writing for inspiration; Britney was only nineteen when she got her mom in on the act to co-write Heart to Heart, Twenty-six year old Billie Piper's Growing Pains is surprising good but i just wish she'd waited a bit longer (I suppose a bit like how she feels about her marriage to Chris Evans.) Do they feel they have to rush them out while they are still in the public eye - clinging to celebrity like a tick to a stray dog.

Footballers are the worst. The list is endless: Stephen Gerrard (Gerrard), John Terry, Robbie Fowler (Robbie Fowler: My Autobiography), Ryan Giggs, (Giggs: The Autobiography) Rio Ferdinand (Rio: My Story), Ashley Cole (My Defence), Frank Lampard (Totally Frank), Didier Drogba (Didier Drogba: The Autobiography) You have to love the imaginative titles.

Wayne Rooney has a £5million deal to write a SERIES of autobiographies. No footballer is more than one book interesting.

I have to admit that I started my biography when I was eleven. It's called the Slimey Git and the Zombie. Someday I'll tell you why... but not until I am at least 50 and I'm ready to publish.

No I will not be reading Andy Murray's little offering. Truth be told I wouldn't listen to his whinging if he was ninety - although at ninety he may have learned not to whinge.