I do not see how hanging litter louts up by their heels and beating them with sticks could be considered a crime.

You can stick a BMW badge on a dead cat - and people would still buy it.

I run a lot. I have this five-mile run that I try and do a few times a week. If I do more, I get shin splints and it drives me mad, so I have to balance it.

Im not reckless. I was never reckless.

I would love to act. I probably won't make it to Hollywood at 42 years of age, but I'd love to act.

Ask any Ferrari, Porsche or Ray-Ban salesperson about their average customer and you will very likely hear that he is not, as the adverts would have us believe, a virile young footballer with shiny hair, a rippling six pack and a trouser pouch like a new punch bag. He is, in fact, a middle-aged bloke wearing more chins than he started life with and carrying the clear evidence of forty years of beer and pies slung across his midriff.

With the case of running, it really is a case of get out, set yourself a distance, run it, and then do it again the next day. It's tremendously simple.