In the late 1980s, Tim Parfitt talked his way into a job at Condé Nast in London and, from there, into a six-week stint in Madrid to help launch Spanish Vogue. But six weeks soon turned into nine years, and helping out transformed into running the company. During his stint, Tim discovered a booming city in hedonistic reaction to years of fascism, where the evenings lasted until dawn, sleep was something you only did at work, and five hour lunches invariably involved a plate of bull's testicles. Frothing with a language designed to make foreigners dribble, hospitalized by tapa-induced flatulence, and constantly frustrated by the unapproachable beauty of the women parading through the Vogue offices, he nevertheless fell in love with a city, a country, and its people despite the fact he rarely has a clue what they’re talking about. Tim Parfitt's rise from unwanted guest to paparazzi-pursued mover in Spain's glamorous social scene is a hilarious comedy of errors.

"Hugely entertaining memoir … frequently laugh-out-loud funny.” The Daily Express

“Parfitt is no ordinary Englishman. His light touch and neat line in self-deprecating humour perfectly suits this entertaining urban spin on the old tale of Brits having fun under the Spanish sun.” The Sunday Times

“A love letter to Madrid … brilliantly captures a truly eccentric and hedonistic place.” The Daily Mirror

“Vivid yet affectionate … fascinating, escapist stuff.” OK! Magazine

More about local author Tim Parfitt and journalist and presenter Carrie Frias