I read that book Fat is a Feminist issue, got a bit desperate halfway through and ate it.

My ex-boyfriend can round last night, which was weird because I didn't know he was in a coma.

Work motivates me. I love what I do and I'm a positive person, I've always liked what I've done as a job - however grim it was.

In the end, punk inevitably burned itself out and acted as a bridge across which the New Romantics could sashay in their chiffon and glossy hair.

When you get to know someone, you find there's something nasty in their woodshed.

When I was a nurse my favourite assignment was the anorexic ward. I sometimes ate as many as seventeen dinners

I'm a terrible sort of non-fussy eater, really. I don't like posh food very much, and the more ingredients something's got in it, the less I tend to like it.