Marcus Berkmann has been a freelance writer since 1988, working for newspapers and magazines and occasionally writing a book, like this one. He reckons to have written literally millions of words in that time, several of them in the right order. This, his 13th or possibly 14th book, is about those years of writing: the triumphs (few), the heartbreaks (many), the sackings (more than you would expect), the biscuits (many, many more than you would expect). In it he somehow makes the act of staring out of a window wondering what to say next seem both fascinating and, in some strange way, enviable, whereas, like most writers, he rarely leaves the house other than to go to the pub or the off-licence. Often asked how you become a writer, his advice remains: Please do not. There's already enough competition out there and we don't need any more. His advance for this book was about enough to buy a packet of Jaffa Cakes.

Marcus Berkmann, author of the cricket classics Rain Men and Zimmer Men, returns to the great game with this irresistible miscellany of cricketing trivia, stories and more fascinating facts than Geoffrey Boycott could shake a stick of rhubarb at. Which England captain smoked two million cigarettes in his lifetime? Which Australian captain, asked what his favourite animal was, said 'Merv Hughes'? What did Hitler think of cricket? Which National Hunt trainer had a dog called Sobers? Who was described in his obituary as 'perhaps the only unequivocally popular man in Yorkshire'? No other sport is so steeped in oddness and eccentricity. There's the only Test player ever to be executed for murder, the only first-class cricketer to die on the Titanic, and the only bestselling author to catch fire while playing at Lord's. (It was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The ball hit a box of matches in his pocket.) All cricket is here, including an XI entirely made up of players who share their names with freshwater fish.

Forty-seven years after NBC killed it off, Star Trek celebrates its half-century in a state of rude health. Boldly going where several other people have been before, Marcus Berkmann tells the story of this sturdy science fiction vehicle from its first five-year mission (rudely curtailed to three), through the dark years of the 1970s, the triumphant film series and The Next Generation, to the current 'reboot' films, with a younger cast taking on the characters of Kirk, Spock, McCoy and co. With wit, insight and a huge pile of DVDs, he seeks to answer all the important questions. Why did Kirk's shirt always get torn when he had a fist fight? What's the most number of times Uhura said 'Hailing frequencies open, sir' in a single episode? (Seven.) And what's the worst imaginable insult in Klingon? (Your mother has a smooth forehead.)

For many men, middle age arrives too fast and without due warning. One day you are young, free and single; the next you are bald, fat and washed-up, with weird tendrils of hair growing out of your ears. None of it seems fair. With age should come dignity and respect, but instead everyone makes tired jokes about buying a motorbike. Marcus Berkmann isn't having it. Having marked his fiftieth birthday by hiding under the duvet for six weeks, the author of the cricket classics Rain Men and Zimmer Men is now determined to find some light in the all-consuming darkness. Musing over birth, death and all the messy stuff in between, he concludes that however dreadful you look in the mirror today, it will be much worse in ten years' time. His brutally candid despatch from the frontline is not for the faint-hearted, which is to say anyone under thirty-five.

Ten years after his classic Rain Men - 'cricket's answer to Fever Pitch,' said the Daily Telegraph - Marcus Berkmann returns to the strange and wondrous world of village cricket, where players sledge their team-mates, umpires struggle to count up to six, the bails aren't on straight and the team that fields after a hefty tea invariably loses. This time he's on the trail of the Ageing Cricketer, having suddenly realised that he is one himself and playing in a team with ten others every weekend. In their minds they run around the field as fast as ever; it's only their legs that let them down. ZIMMER MEN asks all the important questions of middle-aged cricketers. Why is that boundary rope suddenly so far away? Are you doomed to getting worse as a cricketer, or could you get better? How many pairs of trousers will your girth destroy in one summer? Chronicling the 2004 season, with its many humiliating defeats and random injuries, this coruscatingly funny new book laughs in the face of middle age, and starts thinking seriously about buying a convertible.

Marcus Berkmann, author of the cricket classics Rain Men and Zimmer Men, returns to the great game with this irresistible miscellany of cricketing trivia, stories and more fascinating facts than Geoffrey Boycott could shake a stick of rhubarb at. Which England captain smoked two million cigarettes in his lifetime? Which Australian captain, asked what his favourite animal was, said 'Merv Hughes'? What did Hitler think of cricket? Which National Hunt trainer had a dog called Sobers? Who was described in his obituary as 'perhaps the only unequivocally popular man in Yorkshire'? No other sport is so steeped in oddness and eccentricity. There's the only Test player ever to be executed for murder, the only first-class cricketer to die on the Titanic, and the only bestselling author to catch fire while playing at Lord's. (It was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The ball hit a box of matches in his pocket.) All cricket is here, including an XI entirely made up of players who share their names with freshwater fish.

Approaching its 200th birthday in the rudest of health, the Spectator is known for the quality of its writing and the deep eccentricity of some of its writers. Given the freedom to say what they want, they take that freedom and more, and the result is original, provocative, often very funny, sometimes plain wrong. From Jeffrey Bernard's reports from the Soho frontline and Auberon Waugh fulminating about hamburger gases in the early 1990s, we encounter in turn the wild stream of consciousness of Deborah Ross's restaurant reviews, the pinpoint etiquette advice of Mary Killen, Rod Liddle's frothing but elegantly sculpted outrage and the magazine's secret weapon, low life adventurer Jeremy Clarke. This bumper selection, which also includes eminent diarists, mad letter-writers and Boris Johnson, amounts to a masterclass in comic writing, lovingly compiled and edited by Marcus Berkmann, who still can't believe he wrote a monthly pop column for the magazine for twenty-eight years without being fired.

From the bestselling author of A Shed of One's Own, a very funny memoir about being 60. Marcus Berkmann's funny, instantly recognisable description of middle-age in A Shed of One's Own struck a chord and turned it into a bestseller. Now he realises he has entered a new age category: the Young-Old. Well, the body continues to provide challenges (every group meeting seems to begin the dreaded 'organ recital'), and the bank balance may not be doing too well either - but it's certainly not all doom and gloom. You have come to terms with your deficiencies and eccentricities (although your partner may not); your Fear of Missing Out has become Joy at Staying In; you have embraced the notion of the Power Nap - and though you're not going to embark on a course of 'mindfulness' you nevertheless recognise if living in the moment also includes walking to the local for a pint with an old friend then you'll sign up for it after all... You could call it 'beerfulness'. 'Berkmann is a fine observer of decline. He says what other men would rather not think about, let alone discuss. Another ten years pottering around in his shed and he'll have cracked it' Sunday Times

The best cricket novel ever written . . . Before 'Sandpapergate' there was The Amazing Test Match Crime. 'Cricket is the great narrative sport, and a close, hard-fought Test Match is the nearest any sport comes to the structure, rhythm and feel of a good novel. The opening is there, if someone is brave enough to take it . . .' Marcus Berkmann England are due to play Australia Imperia (names have been changed for legal reasons) at the Oval, in the final Test of the summer. The series hangs in the balance when England's Captain and star player disappears without trace . . . A wonderful novel which reads like a cross between an episode of Blackadder and England, Their England.

The Ashes may be the longest and fiercest sporting soap opera the world has known. The anticipation is always intense, expectations are high and, for England fans, disappointment is almost inevitable, as we usually lose. But it's a drug we can never kick. How have we got into this state? Can we ever break free? Marcus Berkmann knows he can't and has stopped even trying. ASHES TO ASHES is the first emotional history of the contest, shamelessly eschewing balance and objectivity to give the punter's view of every series since 1972. This new edition updates the tale to the victorious 2009 series, while remaining brutally realistic about our chances in 2010 and beyond . . .

Marcus Berkmann was for many years the pop critic of the Spectator, waiting like most freelances to get fired. He's also the author of the bestselling Berkmann's Cricket Miscellany, concentrating on the ridiculous true stories and the weird characters of that most eccentric of sports. Here he combines the two, in a wildly entertaining ride through the galloping absurdities of pop, from Elvis Presley's real hair colour, through Janet Jackson's more intimate piercings, to Courtney Love's hatred of cheese. Why does Bono always wear sunglasses? Did Ozzy Osbourne really urinate on the Alamo? What actually happened at Keith Moon's 21st birthday party at the Holiday Inn in Flint, Michigan? There's sex, there's drugs, there's violence, there's even a little rock 'n' roll from time to time. But mainly there are vital questions, now finally answered. Which notable guitarist has unfeasibly tiny hands? Which Britpop star was forced to wear lederhosen as a child? Who said, 'The majority of pop stars are compete idiots in every respect'? And was she wrong?

There are lots of books about parenthood. But if you look closely most of them are about motherhood. Fathers get brief paragraphs about needing the odd cuddle themselves and being helpful for carrying the heavier elements of baby kit, but that's it. This book, on the other hand, is a shed-friendly man's guide to the whole scary, life-changing business. One that looks beyond the happy-clappy cliches into the fiery hell of night feeds and projectile vomiting. 'Shit happens' will suddenly start to make sense as a phrase. Providing crucial information and insight on every aspect of parenting with pitch perfect humour, it takes the father-to-be on a white-knuckle ride from conception to the first birthday that also considers the emotional truths and selfish imperatives that fathers are usually asked to bury out of sight. It is a personally informed journey but touches all the crucial practical bases to make it a one-stop, know-it-all manual for the prospective dad. broodiness is just a phase your partner's going through, the naked truth is in here, or perhaps you just want to laugh at other men in this predicament or use this book as a form of contraception

There are many cricket books, and they are all the same. 'Don't Tell Goochie', autobiographical insights of nights on the tiles in Delhi with Lambie and the boys; 'Fruit cake days', a celebrated humourist recalls 'ball' - related banter of yore; and Wisden, a deadly weapon when combined with a thermos flask. Rain Men is different. Like the moment the genius of Richie Benaud first revealed itself to you, it is a cricketing epiphany, a landmark in the literature of the game. Shining the light meter of reason into cricket's incomparable madness, Marcus Berkmann illuminates all the obsessions and disappointments that the dedicated fan and pathologically hopeful clubman suffers year after year - the ritual humiliation of England's middle order, the partially-sighted umpires, the battling average that reads more like a shoe size. As satisfying as a perfectly timed cover drive, and rather easier to come by, Rain Men offers essential justification for anyone who has ever run a team-mate out on purpose or secretly blubbed at a video of Botham's Ashes.