The first comic roles in the Gilbert and Sullivan operas were performed by George Grossmith (who was, incidentally, a drug addict). But George Grossmith is famous for quite another reason. Together with his brother Weedon, he wrote the immortal Diary of a Nobody, the daily memoirs of the entirely unmemorable Victorian lower-middle class Charles Pooter, his submissive wife Carrie, his scapegrace son Lupin, and his friends Gowing and Cummings who drop in and out more or less constantly.

Although Mr. Pooter commences his writings by remarking, "Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see -- because I do not happen to be a 'Somebody' -- why my diary should not be interesting," it is evident from its contents that he and his family lead the most boring and mundance existence that could be imagined. In fact, Mr. Pooter lives the kind of life that most of us lead, with its minor triumphs, its little hopes and fears. This doesn't prevent the book from being one of the minor classics of Victorian comic literature, even though the most exciting thing that happens is that "Gowing always seems to be coming and Cummings always seems to be going."

Some decades later, much the same theme was treated by the French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, but this time the results were much less funny. Sartre cannot laugh at his "existential angst" -- instead, it seems to him to be a justification for self-annihilation.

It doesn't matter whether we laugh at our preoccupation with ourselves or despair of it. The point is to stop it. A life that consists of thinking only of "I" is unendurable, but the key to ending it is not to ridicule it or revile it, but to practice each day Steps 10, 11 and 12.