As I look around the West End these days, it seems to me that outside every thin girl is a fat man, trying to get in.

Find out what you like doing best, and get someone to pay you for it.

It is a pity that so often the only way to treat girls like people seems to be to treat them like boys.

I yield to no one in my admiration for the office as a social center, but it's no place actually to get any work done.

From a commercial point of view, if Christmas did not exist it would be necessary to invent it.

When it comes to housework the one thing no book of household management can ever tell you is how to begin. Or maybe I mean why.

As anyone who has ever fallen foul of an airport, a conventional hospital or a bad restaurant knows, misery is made up of little things.