I feel that, in a sense, the writer knows nothing any longer. He has no moral stance. He offers the reader the contents of his own head, a set of options and imaginative alternatives. His role is that of a scientist, whether on safari or in his laboratory, faced with an unknown terrain or subject. All he can do is to devise various hypotheses and test them against the facts.

I came to live in Shepperton in 1960. I thought: the future isn't in the metropolitan areas of London. I want to go out to the new suburbs, near the film studios. This was the England I wanted to write about, because this was the new world that was emerging.

I wanted to rub the human race in its own vomit, and force it to look in the mirror.

I feel that the surrealists have created a series of valid external landscapes which have their direct correspondences within our own minds.

An arts degree is like a diploma in origami. And about as much use.

A general rule: if enough people predict something, it won't happen.

There is a British pop group called God. At a recent book signing the lead singer introduced himself and gave me a cassette. I have heard the voice of God.