The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F**k – Sarah Knight

Warning – the following post contains frequent and joyful use of expletives.


I was given this book for Christmas by a wonderful friend who is well aware of my history of giving too many fucks about too many things, especially things over which I have little control.  To be honest, self-help is probably my least favourite genre, but this book has made me think I need to reassess my prejudices.

As someone constantly up to my neck in fuck deficit, giving far more than I can possibly supply, I found The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck to be as helpful as it is hilarious. Ok, that sentence was a bit ambiguous, so in case you were wondering, the book scores high marks in both categories.

Most of us are aware that the number of fucks we give can have a detrimental impact on our quality of life.  The brilliance of this book is that it gives practical advice on how to assess your current level and areas of fuck-giving, then guides you in establishing a fuck budget and how to eliminate surplus fucks without tipping over into being an arsehole.

The key seems to be ceasing to give a fuck about what other people think. Once you have freed yourself from the shackles of being universally likeable (an impossibility) you can reassess your priorities and then find polite ways of removing things, people and obligations from your life that you are unwilling to spend your precious fucks on. Prioritise that which brings you joy and minimise all that annoys. It’s riotously liberating. This book is brimming with seriously useful advice delivered in a way that will have you snorting aloud and possibly in public if you are reading it on the bus.

As a result, I’m well on the way out of fuckruptcy, newly dedicated to only giving fucks to things that truly matter to me and armed with techniques that will hopefully prevent me from becoming an arsehole in the process. Hilariously transformative stuff.

P.S. A note to my lovely friend, Mike Hopkins – the reason I missed your poetry reading today was not due to you being in any way non-fuckworthy.  My hairdressing appointment ran incredibly late. I promise this is the stone-cold truth and I was not being an arsehole despite how incredibly vacuous this excuse sounds. I am truly sorry.