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.

A food is not necessarily essential just because your child hates it.

The disease is painless; it's the cure that hurts.

It might be marvelous to be a man - then I could stop worrying about what's fair to women and just cheerfully assume I was superior, and that they had all been born to iron my shirts. Better still, I could be an Irish man - then I would have all the privileges of being male without giving up the right to be wayward, temperamental and an appealing minority.

The wind of change, whatever it is, blows most freely through an open mind.

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

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.