One person's crazy is another person's sane, I guess.

Nothing was quite like it was supposed to be.

I had one class in the morning, the mysteriously named "Further Maths". It was two hours long and so deeply frightening that I think I went into a trance.

Claim whatever you want. Say you only want a happy family or a successful career or a big house. I say: no, that's not what you want. You'll settle for those things, but you really want a monkey that does your evil bidding. Pullman is a genius just for this.

Mouth guard. And I think we'll start you in goal." Goal sounded like a special job. I didn't want a special job, unless that special job involved sitting on the side under a pile of blankets.

It was clearly one of those mornings when I was particularly American.

No one in history had ever done less and yet been so wrong.