Hangover cure: Rigorous sex, hydration, hot bath, then "go up for half an hour in an open aeroplane. (needless to say, with a non-hungover person at the controls)."

Laziness has become the chief characteristic of journalism, displacing incompetence.

Nice things are nicer than nasty ones.

A blonde girl wearing a man's shirt but in all other visible respects unmanly to the point of outright effeminacy.

Politics is a thing that only the unsophisticated can really go for.

Outside every fat man there is an even fatter man trying to close in.

When that ineffable compound of depression, sadness (these two are not the same), anxiety, self-hatred, sense of failure and fear for the future begins to steal over you, start telling yourself that what you have is a hangover. You are not sickening for anything, you have not suffered a minor brain lesion, you are not all that bad at your job, your family and friends are not leagued in a conspiracy of barely maintained silence about what a s**t you are, you have not come at last to see life as it really is and there is no use crying over spilt milk.