I have stood in a bar in Lambourn and been offered, in the space of five minutes, a poached salmon, a leg of a horse, a free trip to Chantilly, marriage, a large unsolicited loan, ten tips for a ten-horse race, two second-hand cars, a fight, and the copyright to a dying jockey's life story.

When I was a boy, I naively thought that this thing called happiness would be something I would wake up to find every day once I could smoke, drink and fornicate.

Although I have to admit I have despised a couple of people simply because they have never had a job in their lives.

I was under the care of a couple of medical students who couldn't diagnose a decapitation.

The only reason I would have liked to have gone to university is because I like cricket. Not a very good reason to want to go, but as good as any, I suppose.

Oh, the self-importance of fading stars. Never mind, they will be black holes one day.

Oh, to me not drinking is like being dead, almost. I sit here taking endless journeys down memory lane. It gets boring.