Dinner was meat - not hunks of meat, as in Australia, but pathetic scraps of meat, as in Britain - which the girls upstairs transformed into edible dishes by heating it in secret ways and adding bits of stuff to it.

They had a... dog called Bluey. A know psychopath, Bluey would attack himself if nothing else was available.

You can never get a woman to sit down and listen to a drum solo.

The streets, at least in this part of town, seemed impossibly clean in comparison to London. The public telephones were unvandalised. For a London telephone booth to look like that it would have to be guarded around the clock by the SAS.

Arnold Schwarzenegger looks like a brown condom full of walnuts.

Even in moments of tranquility, Murray Walker sounds like a man whose trousers are on fire.

All intellectual tendencies are corrupted when they consort with power.