Good old Pete. That's me. But I find it hard to think of myself in the first person when I'm writing about The Who. So many times he has willingly sat down to write about the good old Who. Isn't he too old to masturbate?

What the English like to do is to face reality with a glass of port and a tear and fade off like Basil Rathbone into the sunset.

The day you open your mind to music, you're halfway to opening your mind to life.

I don't need to fight / To prove I'm right / I don't need to be forgiven

I have to say that anger is the blanket that comes around me, and that blunts and blurs my sense of proportion.

Parade your pallor in iniquity.

I want to age with some dignity.