The book I am currently reading
Music journalist Pete Paphides’s unflinching and heartwarming memoir Broken Greek. It’s out next year and tells of his early life, living above a chip shop in Birmingham and playing pinball, finding cultural identity not in his Greek heritage, but through pop music.

The book that changed my life
When I read Alan Bennett’s The Lady in the Van, I realised books weren’t just something you were forced to read at school, they could actually be enjoyed, adored even. I didn’t ever think I could match his mastery, but it certainly inspired me to try my best.

The book I wish I’d written
JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. Respect to the guy for sitting there and painstakingly creating a whole universe, but to me it’s a load of indecipherable nonsense. However, it’s sold 150m copies, spawned countless big-budget movies and I quite like the idea of getting a royalty statement thicker than a phone book.

The book that influenced my writing
David Sedaris’ essay collection Me Talk Pretty One Day is a masterpiece. It’s written breezily, but his depictions of his family are so evocative and told with such heart you know every word is perfectly chosen.

The book I think is most underrated
The Phantom Tollbooth, a sharp and smart fantasy by Norton Juster that I read at school. Very few people seem to have heard of it though.One day perhaps it will finally catch on and I can crow like a desperate hipster that I liked it way before it was cool.

The book that changed my mind
I thought my opinion of David Cameron was immovable – that he was a terrible prime minister. His autobiography For the Record made me appraise him anew. I can now add “grasping, desperate shell of a human who exists in a moral vacuum”.

The last book that made me cry
Rachel Clarke’s Dear Life is out in January. A palliative medicine doctor, she was tested to the limit when her own father was diagnosed with lung cancer. It’s heartbreaking and truly shows the human side of being a doctor.

The last book that made me laugh
Guardian columnist Rhik Samadder’s memoir I Never Said I Loved You tugged at my heartstrings, punched me in the gut and donked my funny bone. His descriptions of his mother and her various antics are told with an eye-roll, with traditional parent-child awkwardness but, more than that, with love.

The book I couldn’t finish
Stephen Hawking’s not-at-all-brief A Brief History of Time. Claiming to have finished it is the “you wouldn’t know my girlfriend, she goes to another school” of literature.

The book I’m most ashamed not to have read
Too many to single out just one. Any time there’s a list of “100 books to read before you die” I get a mild sense of panic. What happens if I don’t read them? Do I really need to read Of Mice and Men before I meet my maker?

The book I give as a gift
Nora Ephron’s Heartburn is a wry, emotional and no-holds-barred fictional-ish retelling of the breakdown of her second marriage. It’s perfectly written, and I love to give it to my friends – usually on their wedding day. Especially if it’s their second marriage. Forewarned is forearmed, after all.

The book I’d most like to be remembered for
One always hopes to be on the up escalator rather than the down. But realistically, if I’m going to be remembered for anything, it’ll be This Is Going to Hurt.

My earliest reading memory
Eric Hill’s Spot the Dog was an early favourite. What was it about a mischievous, easily distracted puppy who seems to delight in annoying his family that I found so relatable, I wonder?

My comfort read
The secret diaries of Adrian Mole by the much-missed Sue Townsend. The best diaries ever written – with apologies to Samuel Pepys, Bridget Jones and me.

• Adam Kay’s Twas the Nightshift Before Christmas is published by Picador. To order a copy go to guardianbookshop.com. Free UK p&p over £15.