I like the idea that I can talk to any teenage girls. You know, in a language that makes sense to them.

Your soul shines through even if you haven't got mascara on

And the kittykats would have to erect scaffolding and a pulley to get him down. Mind you, I wouldn't put that past them. Sometimes when they are behind the sofa supposedly purring, I think they are drilling.

I gave my artistic laugh and also threw in some quirky language for good measure. "Lawks-a-mercy, no! I'm going to have a long bath and..." I looked shyly down. Which is pretty impressive to have done artistic laugh, quirky language and shyness all in the space of ten seconds.

Through my curtains I can see a big yellow moon. I’m thinking of all the people in the world who will be looking at that same moon. I wonder how many of them haven’t got any eyebrows?

I will not have him in my brain;there is no room for anyone else in the cakeshop of agony. it's crowded enough in there already.

I am going to become a writer for Cosmo - you don’t have to make any sense at all. Or maybe I’ll be a bloke, they don’t have to make sense either.