Elizabeth Day has some wonderful things to say about Paul McKenna but she peppers all the praise with some odd bits how I healed my inner nerd.

He has yet to produce a manual on how to get a personality, which might be because he doesn’t really have one. . . . . . . . . . . Paul McKenna: not enough ‘bling’ to compensate for feelings of inadequacy . . . . . . . . . . That is not to say that Paul McKenna is unfriendly or entirely humourless. He does, to his credit, try to crack the occasional joke in his reedy, Estuary accent. ("I’m continually asked to write books about relationships. Now, if I could stay in one for any length of time, then I would do. Ha ha ha!") . . . . . . . . . . I turn round in time to see a convertible jeep filled with at least four improbably glamorous blonde women and – squeezed into the front – Paul McKenna, scrutinising me from behind a pair of brown sunglasses. It is like a scene from Barbie & Ken: The Movie, except no one is smiling and Paul does not really look like Ken, although he has casually left at least four buttons on his purple shirt undone so that I get a tantalising eyeful of greying chest hair . . . . . . . . . . He walks up the stairs to his well-appointed roof terrace, through a sitting-room with custard-cream walls and a selection of framed photographs of McKenna with the pop singer Jamiroquai and yet more gorgeous blondes. In all of them, McKenna is smiling the same bland smile, looking slightly out of place, as if he has been superimposed.

And this is in a favorable article about McKenna’s recent book deal and his success with celebrity hypnotists.