I tried to like it. For me, it was like being smacked around the head by a piece of IKEA furniture: it hurts, but you've got to admire the workmanship.

If you have enough money to be comfortable it makes life a lot easier and that's undeniable. But I think happiness is more elusive.

I am a confectionery-based existentialist.

Three blind mice walk into a pub. But they are unaware of their surroundings, so to derive humour from it would be exploitative.

I'm quite lucky, because I've got a small, decorative concrete pig.

Without the beat in the background, Jazz basically sounds like an armadillo was let loose on the keyboard.

Add a drop of lavender to milk, leave town with an orange, and pretend you're laughing at it.