I think comedy's something you can't learn. It's an instinct, which makes it rather elusive.

It wasn't being an alcoholic - it was going wild. It happened when I got famous. It was like having my teens in my early thirties: blotting out your life, not having to think about anything.

I was always someone who lived in the future all the time, it was always the next thing - dreams of escape.

As soon as I gave birth, it was as if you understand them. They become people, not kids. You start to identify with them. You see yourself in them.

Everyone comes up to me saying, 'Cooee, Julie! Hello!' as if I know them. Of course I don't bloody know them. Am I flummoxed by it? Sometimes. I think, 'Ooh, love, go easy.' For a time, I did feel this pressure that I had to be funny, but it passes.

I'm massively talented, and very, very beautiful in person; the public don't really realise that.

I don't like being out of the crowd. It's lonely within a group.