To think AA Gill must be the most joyless journalist on the planet.

[Vintageclock]

He just moans and drones about everything. His restaurant reviews are almost unreadable and he seems to make a point of despising the kind of television programmes that the Hoi Polloi love. Why doesn't he just go and live on top of a tree someplace where he can look down on the rest of us, lip curled with total disdain.

I think a lot of what Giles Coren said about fashion week is spot on (sorry, off topic a bit).

All his articles are so mean spirited, and he's cruel about people

Try Joanna Blythman, restaurant critic in the Sunday Herald - definately a Scot to whom you would not want to bring home a broken pay packet.

We have now stopped buying it, but DH and me used to half kill each other in the race to see which restaurant she had highmindedly trashed each Sunday. Torn faced cow didn't like anything, unless it had been prepared by dying peasants in the hills of Pakistan and the like. Uparsedness in the extreme.

Does anyone remember his classic review of Valley of the Kings? Before his head disappeared up his arse?

I would never have heard the word "tristram" if it weren't for AAGill. Occassionally he writes some good stuff, like an article a few years ago about Alzheimers.
The writer who makes me feel homicidal is Bryan Appleyard when we writes about science. He has an awful lot of opinion for someone with so little clue.

I think Gill is a brilliant critic - but he does show off with his classical references. Still, he's done well for a dyslexic. Coren and his sister piss me off mostly because they are only in the business 'cos of their father Alan.

There are dozens of Appleyards. Nepotism everywhere. Dimblebys, Snows, Lee-Potters et al.

A A Gill, for example, is a twat.

I generally enjoy AA Gill. Sometimes I think he is an utter arse, but then he'll write something that makes me laugh out loud.

Giles Coren is the most smug, self satisfied little twerp that there ever has been. And yes, owes his 'career' to nepotism. God but I hate him.

AA Gill is also a twerp, that goes without saying.

Best approach to poor Adrian (for such is his name ) is sympathy. He's an ageing old fart who desperately wants to be taken seriously as a writer but whose novels are famously terrible. The only reason Sap Rising troubled the lower reaches of the charts was that the reviews were so hilariously savage everyone rushed to buy it and see how awful it really was.

He's like this ghastly shuffling camp relative everyone's slightly scared of, so they let him have his way for now, silently hoping he goes batty and toddles off to a Bungalow in Dorset.

( Sorry, but this bothers me)
' Done well for a dyslexic.'
Maybe he has done well for someone with dyslexia.
(Not trying to be a tit )

I dunno, I think you need a critical antidote to whatever fashionable bullocks or dumb-down nonsense is being touted. I havent read AA Gill for a while mind, but certainly could actually write

But I so would

I would too, Maud

I just love the fact that his name is Adrian. Poor chap so clearly wishes it was Giles.

who?

so what, who cares what he thinks?

The man's an arse - end of.

He has always put me in mind of Sir Henry Elliot from Persuasion. I read recently that he loathes Austen, probably because people are always telling him that he is a dead ringer for the monstrously vain Elliot.

Northlight - but at least Papa Elliott was actual gentry with an entry in the stud book (and an ancestor who had bought a baronetage).

I often find myself agreeing with him especially when he writes about food in general but then he says something utterly twattish and I go off him again. dp says "AA Gill is away" is his favourite line in the ST. He still reads his stuff though.

I recall one line from his writing which appalled me but being as it remains in my mind years later does say something about his writing at least. He was in a seedy Moscow nightclub w/ JC and was being entertained by some Russian girls who were most likely prostitutes. He described one as having ' a Pudenda narrow as a Gulags snout.'

I quite like a bit of Gill peevishness. Only now and again, like the occasional sherry.

(I also seem to detest most tv programmes the hoi polloi love too)

Arrogant, self-absorbed prick whose writing is stuck in a 1990s time-warp.