As a kid, I grew to define what I didn't want my life to be like by sitting behind moaning women on the bus, hearing them bang on about their aches and pains, both real and imagined.

It's received wisdom that the English are uniquely child-unfriendly.

Grooming oneself with all the crazed compulsion of an under-exercised lab rat in order to hook a rich man and obtain a lush lifestyle makes a certain (albeit seedy) sense.

I wouldn't know how to fool a man any more. My deceiving days seem so long ago.

Prostitution is the supreme triumph of capitalism. When the sex war is won prostitutes should be shot as collaborators for their terrible betrayal of all women, for the moral tarring and feathering they give indigenous women who have had the bad luck to live in what they make their humping ground.

I have always voted Labour and I always will. I have got to have one stupid, bovine part of me and that's the part that votes Labour.

One Christmas build-up tradition, however, has totally bypassed me - that of going up to town and doing a show.