I'm dyslexic, I have attention-deficit disorder, and I've got something like a hereditary tremor.

I was curious, given the swimming pools of booze I’ve guzzled over the years - not to mention all of the cocaine, morphine, sleeping pills, cough syrup, LSD, Rohypnol… there’s really no plausible medical reason why I should still be alive. Maybe my DNA could say why.

I grew up having to piss in a bucket ’cos there was no indoor shitter, and now I have these computerised Japanese super-loo things that have heated seats and wash and blow-dry your arse at the touch of a button. Give it a couple of years and I’ll have a bog with a robot arm that pulls out my turds, so I don’t have to strain.

Love and peace to everyone. May your God go with you.

I'll buy myself some plastic water, I should have married Lennon's daughter.

There are no identical twins, or forgivable sins.

I'll always be an outrageous character.