Sir Lenny Henry rang up the Office for National Statistics to confirm something he had been thinking about for a long time. They confirmed to him that only 29.5% of the United Kingdom's population is made up of white, heterosexual, able-bodied men. So, he wonders, why do they still make up the vast majority of people we see in our media? Joining forces with the former Chair of the Royal Television Society's Diversity Committee, Marcus Ryder, he draws on decades of experience to reveal why recent efforts to diversify media have been thus far ineffective, and why they are simply not enough. With wit, humour and unflinching gravitas they analyse the flaws of current diversity initiatives, point out the structural and financial imbalances working against the cause, and provide clear solutions to get the media industry back on track. They include important and inspiring stories and delicious details like biscuits in meetings with senior UK politicians and when Nicola Sturgeon eats Tunnock's teacakes! From a pun at the BAFTAs to giving evidence at the Houses of Parliament and beyond, Lenny Henry goes on a journey to find out why so many of us feel excluded in society, and what we can do about it. 181pp, Faber paperback.

Commoner-turned-royal, Nick Copeman is probably sitting in his caravan palace in Sheringham, eating a Taste the Difference ready meal and living the high life on the latest fashions from TK Maxx, drinking pink gin, watching trash TV and dreaming up his next scam. Living like a 'king' this is a funny, sad memoir of a man who creates ludicrous and funny situations. 25, unemployed, still living with his parents with absolutely nothing to move on to in life, Nick Copeman's answer was to change his name by deed pole to HM King Nicholas and found an empire from his royal seat - a caravan just outside Norfolk. Originally done as a bet, part of which was to arrive at Cromer Job Centre on a horse and wearing a crown, the prank soon escalated. Nick sells peerages over the Internet, receives corporate freebies, becomes a local celebrity, acquires a credit card in his name, and dreams of a date with Zara Phillips. But as His Majesty starts to believe his own hype, his evermore outlandish claims start catching up with him. Will the locals who hang around Costcutter make sure it's 'off with his head'? A great British eccentric who we believe still writes to Zara regularly. She has yet to reply. 274pp, paperback with photos.

For all new mums and those welcoming new arrivals, this has been described as 'A quietly revolutionary little book' from the award winning young New Yorker. A slanted, enchanted miscellany, Galchen writes about babies and art (with wrongly shaped head) and babies in literature (rarer than dogs or abortions and often monstrous). She writes about the effort of taking a passport photo for a baby not yet able to hold up her head, and the frightening prevalence of orange as today's chic colour for baby gifts, about Frankenstein as a sort of baby, and a baby as a sort of Godzilla. She calls her baby the Puma, and in her calm, literary style makes remarks such as: 'The baby loves to look at photos of babies. And at drawings of babies. And although she doesn't play with other babies often, she observes them on the street with a special interest, with much more interest than she gives to a similarly aloof adult. Albeit with less attention than she would give to a dog. It's a very particular kind of interest, a mirror interest, I am guessing. She doesn't know yet that she is going to get bigger?' 130pp.