I'd work eighteen-hour stretches and fall asleep in my clothes. Then I'd wake up in the middle of the night, brew a pot of tea, and start work again. I was tired, but work had become pure enjoyment.

Invention isn't some impenetrable brand of magic; anyone can have a go.

As long as you've got slightly more perception than the average wrapped loaf, you could invent something.

All inventors, they say, are a little mad. I reckon that only completely sane people are willing to admit they are slightly crazy.

The key to success is to risk thinking unconventional thoughts. Convention is the enemy of progress.

But there is only one person I blame for getting shafted, and that's myself. I went into the deal which I thought would secure the future of Orange Aids with culpable impetuosity. I had been used to doing business on a handshake and my work of honour, and I made the error of actually believing what the men in the pin-striped suits told me.

The notion that inventors are anorak-wearing crackpots with glasses held together with Sellotape is beguiling but wrong.