I have always been accused of taking the things I love - football, of course, but also books and records - much too seriously, and I do feel a kind of anger when I hear a bad record, or when someone is lukewarm about a book that means a lot to me.

Sometimes you know you've got a chance with a girl because she wants to fight with you. If the world wasn't so messed up, it wouldn't be like that. If the world was normal, a girl being nice to you would be a good sign, but in the real world, it isn't.

She thought I was...soulful, by which I think she means that I don't say much and I always look vaguely pissed off.

When even the scrupulously detached BBC is exhorting us to talk to God, you know something is going on.

I miss him like one might miss a scar, or wooden leg, something disfiguring but characteristic.

One day, maybe not in the next few weeks, but certainly in the conceivable future, someone will be able to refer to me without using the word 'arse' somewhere in the sentence.

I burst into tears and I cry and cry until it feels as though it is not salt and water being squeezed from my eyes, but blood.