People are still disturbingly vague about the treatment of animals. People still seem to believe that meat is a particular substance not at all connected to animals playing in the field over there. People don't realise how gruesomely and fighteningly the animal gets to the plate.

I still don't belong to anyone - I am mine.

This world, I am afraid, is designed for crashing bores.

Can you squeeze me into an empty page of your diary and psychologically save me?

I don't dream about anyone - except myself

I think I'm a realist. Which people who don't like me consider to be pessimism. It isn't pessimism at all. If I was a pessimist I wouldn't get up, I wouldn't shave, I wouldn't watch Batman at 7:30 a.m. Pessimists just don't do that sort of thing.

I would rather eat my own testicles than reform The Smiths, and that's saying something for a vegetarian.