Who breaks a butterfly on the wheel? That (slightly adapted from Alexander Pope) was what The Times asked when Keef and Mick of the Rolling Stones were sentenced to jail for drugs offences in the 1960s. In 2012, I'm asking: Who fires a cruise missile at a gnat? This expensively produced book, written by rich and successful comedians, is the autobiography of a fictional character called Alan Partridge. He's an ex-sports reporter from Norwich, now a DJ on "North Norfolk Digital" with an "audited audience" of 11,000. He reads The Daily Mail, is crass and socially inept, and likes Phil Collins. This book mercilessly mocks and satirizes him, his tastes and opinions, and, by implication, the "community" to which he belongs. The twitter-storms are hardly going to be raging over a book like this, are they? And you won't get any death-threats or have the police knocking on your door. All of that could happen to a comedian, if he chose the wrong target in vibrant, modern Britain, but Alan Partridge doesn't belong to any protected and privileged minority. Quite the reverse: it's open season on white, male, hetero scum like him. Alan Partridge, like David Brent of The Office, is a very safe comedic target. He's supposed to be a winker, but I'd say he's much more of a winker's creation. If you think there's any point to this kind of comedy, I'd say you're a bit of a winker too. For real comedy about little people, produced with affection and even love, look to Sandy Stone, one of Barry "Dame Edna" Humphries' creations. For real comedy about crass and stupid people, produced with skill and even daring, look at Ali G. Alan Partridge is supposed to be pathetic, but he's not as pathetic as his creators or his fans.