Heroes, whatever high ideas we may have of them, are mortal and not divine. We are all as God made us and many of us much worse.

There will be a quick rash of hairy American filth, but it shouldn't threaten the existence of decent, serious British filth.

George Bernard Shaw writes like a Pakistani who has learned English when he was twelve years old in order to become an accountant.

That voice that cries out doesn't have to be a weakling's does it?

Censorship is the commonest social blasphemy because it is mostly concealed, built into us by indolence, self-interest and cowardice.

The British public has always had an unerring taste for ungifted amateurs.

Oh heavens, how I long for a little ordinary human enthusiasm. Just enthusiasm - that's all. I want to hear a warm, thrilling voice cry out Hallelujah! Hallelujah! I'm alive!