"How long does it take to shut up a baby? How long does it take to run through the possibilities? Are they hungry, sleepy or sitting around in a pile of shit? If it's the second option I'm sure we can all sympathise. But how long could the process of elimination take?..... I'm sure it's wrong to wish death on a baby, but for the first time in my life I'm actually trying to awaken some kind of latent psychic ability I could use to will the life from the little pillock. Or, fuck it, maybe I'll just walk over and wring it like a flannel."

“Ah, those were the days. David Bowie, Status Quo, The Beatles ... no end of artists I could say I enjoyed in order to sound clever and pretentious.”

“The minute I saw this in a catalogue I just fell about. It's so brave of Disney to introduce stuffed toys that represent serious illnesses in order to educate the little kiddies. Me, I just want this so I can make my very own 'Victorian Sanitarium' playset. Downs Syndrome Pooh will be kept perpetually in a bleak little cardboard cell, bullied by Doctor Action Man and Nurse Princess Leia, occasionally brought out to be brutally hosed down with cold water every week. I'm thinking of sending it to Hasbro.”

“Yes, let me tell you about my favourite Disney character. And afterwards, let's all have a magical tea party under the enchanted tree, then we can have a delightful game of pooh sticks, you fucking pansy.”

“So I finally sold out and bought an Ipod the other day. I haven't sold out to the point that I'd spell it with a lower case I and a capital P like the makers insist upon, though.”

“At this time I was hesitant to venture into the greenery, because I wasn't keen on the possibility of having spiders the size of basketballs drop onto my face from overhead branches and refuse to let go. Hunger pains were moving to the 'excruciating' stage by mid-morning. After a last-ditch attempt to extract nutrients from filling my mouth with sand, I decided that, if a big spider the size of a basketball dropped onto my face and tried to eat it, I would eat it back and we could turn the whole thing into an exciting competition.”

“What's more, all these cars go at pretty much exactly the same speed, so you have twenty-odd machines going around and around a track patiently waiting for the one in front to make a cock up. Maybe it would be interesting if drivers made a cock up more often, slamming into walls with really impressive explosions and bits of twisted metal flying everywhere. But no, they train the gits too well. They should have every car being driven by a chimpanzee. I'd watch that. Fuck, I'd sponsor it.”