The mystique is obliterated. I was disappointed by his shallow, regurgitating defence at the end of chapter nine; punching down subverts nothing. I am however heavily into self-deprecation and anecdotes of social inoperativeness (plus laid-back veganism) so this book had the highest laugh rate out of any comic memoir I've read so far. That's excluding when he's slagging off his loved ones as part of his routine and for the most part excluding his recounting a succession of humiliations contained within a single ongoing lifetime.