Let's die of it before we're too old.

What else has a journalist to do these days, after all, but report life's miseries?

In the hands of politicians grand designs achieve nothing but new forms of the old misery.

Ideologies have no heart of their own. They're the whores and angels of our striving selves.

Jesus Christ only had twelve, you know, and one of them was a double.

Why did I desert Labour? Total bloody disillusionment. The party was a corpse. It had no ideology, it became detached, old, spineless and needed to go.

You should have died when I killed you.