Why do people want me to write for free? If I want to do it for free, it’s because I’m doing it for myself. And don’t give me the ‘it’s good exposure’ bullshit. It’s because you don’t want to pay anything.

Why is it that when Charlie does the washing his whites come out white, and my whites come out pink?

Whose pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs are in the drawer? Not Charlie’s. Nor mine.

Do I believe the neighbour who says that her grandson, Owen, is doing fantastic? I thought he was worth a shot until I found out that he was a bit of a psycho. But there again, I have a weakness for bad boys. That answer might come another day.

I listened to a Beatles album and concluded that they are still boring.

Why does Sky Arts think that we are obsessed with Andre Rieu?

What was the attraction of Barbara Hepworth, and why are people obsessed with her work? 

After a one-night stand, why do things always turn out different when sunrise comes?

Why is it that you think you are so bloody handsome, and believe that everyone wants a piece of you, and then someone takes a photo, and you realise that you look a bit of a dork?