One of the great things about being gay and out is that the papers couldn't care less about your love life.

My life could have been so grim really, really grim.

All my day is spent dealing with other people. When I come home I like it to be empty. The presence of others in my house kind of annoys me. I love coming home and shutting the doors. I feel brain dead. I'm relatively available, but not to live with.

I have nothing to say about my childhood. It was a perfectly pleasant upbringing - it's not like it was unhappy or anything.

I bet Maurice Gibb's heart monitor was singing the tune of Stayin' Alive.

My mobile rang around lunchtime one day, and it was George Michael. He wanted to come in on Friday. We were like, 'okay, if that's what you want'. And he was a very good guest. That's a real exception to the rule.

Straight men just can't imagine the bliss of being in a relationship with someone who finds farting as funny as they do.