I think I must be, absolutely, a total sex object. In every sense of the word.

I think flowers are very beautiful things. Very nice and innocent things. They don't harm anybody.

He drove me home in the van, complaining, 'Women only like me for my mind'.

I've gone through managers like people go through shredded wheat. Nobody looks after you.

This position I've held ... it pays may way and it corrodes my soul.

Whenever I’d over­hear how people found me to be ‘a bit much’ (which is the gentle way of say­ing the word ‘unbear­able’), I under­stood why. To myself I would say: Well, yes of course I’m a bit much — if I weren’t, I would not be lit up by so many lights.

I don't iron anything. Never have and never will.