I see my large nose, like half an avocado. I broke it falling downstairs when I was six, and it now resembles a large blob of play-dough.

Reading the play at home, however fulfilling, can never be the vivacious experience that Shakespeare intended.

If you want to write something of length, however modern and radical, you must live the life of an elderly gentleman of the 1950s.

I find it hilarious that there are academics who try to analyse chemical changes in the brains of students while exposing them to gags.

It was Julie Burchill who decreed that, beyond a certain age, a man should not be seen in a leather jacket.

I am 54 and age is slowly writing itself on my face.

Global warming, the ongoing destruction of the planet, Third World debt, the uselessness of the railways, the takeover by the corporations, the scary George Bush person: all these things are important and should be animating me into outrage. Yet somehow they do not.