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.

Racing cars which have been converted for road use never really work. It's like making a hard core adult film, and then editing it so that it can be shown in British hotels. You'd just end up with a sort of half hour close up of some bloke's sweaty face.

Unlike furious thin-lipped feminists, I tend not to draw distinctions between men and women, apart from in bed where you really do need to spot the difference.

The "public" seems to have bought into this belief that life can, and should, be run without risk, that all accidents are avoidable, and that death is something that only happens to people who eat meat and smoke.

I don't often agree with the RSPCA as I believe it is an animal's duty to be on my plate at supper time.

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

I'm having a nice cold pint and waiting for this to blow over.