You exaggerate your own reactions.

Vodka! That's a child's drink, why am I drinking this stupid drink, oh and why am I on a traffic island?

I was lucky in the sense that I was never blessed with an overly reflective nature.

You're supposed to eat the cows. They're great big lumbering stupid things - they'd be everywhere if we didn't eat them.

My drive to put myself on the line comes from boredom. From that feeling when you go to bed and think, 'What did I do today?' It doesn't have to be something monumental, just a feeling that you really tried to look at something, or look into something.

You know, just sometimes, in between the first cigarette with coffee in the morning to that four hundredth glass of cornershop piss at 3am, you do sometimes look at yourself and think...This is fantastic. I'm in heaven.

I quite fancy the 1940s. I like the trams and the trousers.