Not so great in England at the moment; in an online poll we came last, we actually came bottom of European countries for quality of life, because of things like the weather, obviously, late retirement, poor holiday, poor public services, poor health service; it's basically just a kind of grey, godless wilderness, full of cold pies and broken dreams.

How many amoebas does it take to screw in a light bulb? One, no two! No four! ...no eight!

But our country's equivalent of gritty reality is more like "Look out Sarge, he's got a shooter!"

Aldous Huxley took the drug mescaline and then chronicled his experience in the book The Doors of Perception. Now, I don't actually think that's the first thing he wrote: he probably wrote 'my brain is melting' ten thousand times, but it was the book that the critics latched on to.

Do not crush the flowers of wisdom with the hobnail boots of cynicism.

So many beautiful things, I cannot possess them all!

This shed does not contain me.