I like to think that my arrogance, impetuosity, impatience, selfishness and greed are the qualities that make me the lovable chap I am.

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

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.

Unless I have been sorely misinformed, supermodels are powerless to resist a man with illuminated doorsills.

I mostly drive around in a Fiat 500 TwinAir, and that's a pretty small car!

I had post-traumatic amnesia, five-second memory, it happens as a result of brain injury.

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.