This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs.

You can't trample infidels when you're a tortoise. I mean, all you could do is give them a meaningful look.

Everywhere's been where it is ever since it was first put there. It's called geography.

I think it's IMPOSSIBLE for anyone famous to come from here, because everyone around here is insane.

One of the highlights of the first Good Omens tour was Neil and I walking through New York singing Shoehorn with Teeth. Well, we'd had a good breakfast. And you don't get mugged, either.

Last hopeless chances have got to work. Nothing makes sense otherwise. You might as well not be alive.

Fantasy is uni-age. You can start it in the creche, and it follows you to death.