Like every big organisation these days, the BBC is obsessed with the wellbeing of those who set foot on its premises. Studios must display warning notices if there is real glass on the set, and the other day I was presented with a booklet explaining how to use a door. I am not kidding.

There are many rules for the elderly in the Highway Code. I have one too, and here it is: get a bloody move on.

You're a car, but most of all, what you are, what you've become, is a mate. And that's what makes a car special. That's what makes a car great. You start to think of it as a person. You start to love it.

If the Scottish want to break away, I shall stand on Hadrian's Wall with a teary handkerchief, and say: 'Good riddance to the lot of you, and take your stupid bagpipes with you.'

Because drug dealers shoot each other in London, Norfolk farmers can't have guns to defend their homes. I mean, no one wants a gun - except at 4am when they hear a strange sound in the kitchen.

Some say he never blinks, and that he roams around the woods at night foraging for wolves. All we know is he’s called the Stig.

I rang up Jay Kay, who's got one, and said: 'Can we borrow yours?' and he said, 'Yeah, if I can borrow your daughter, because it amounts to the same thing.'