I think perhaps I touch on a different passion in people. It’s not simple the passion of rock ‘n’ roll rebellion - it’s more romantic than sexual.

Nothing is important, so people, realising that, should get on with their lives, go mad, take their clothes off, jump in the canal, jump into one of those supermarket trolleys, race around the supermarket and steal Mars bars and kiss kittens.

Hold on to your friends. Resist - or move on Be mad, be rash Smoke and explode Sell all of your clothes Just bear in mind: There just might come a time When you need some friends

I avoid people who I actually like. I suppose that’s a phobia but also a habit.

Life's full of tricky snakes and ladders.

It could be construed that the reason I wouldn't wish to live in England is the immigration explosion. And that's not true at all.

And though I walk home alone, my faith in love is still devout.