At last someone takes me seriously.

The early bird may get the worm, but its the second mouse that gets the cheese.

Scepticism is a necessary and vital part of the journalist's toolkit. But when scepticism becomes cynicism it can close off thought and block the search for truth.

It's not just politicians. Any spokesman for a vested interest is well schooled in how to say what it is they wish to say, which may bear no relation at all to what you've asked them.

I voted against Gerald Nabarro in my first general election, but my defiance made no difference. If you had put a Conservative rosette on a mustachioed hamster, it would have been elected.

I got fed up of listening to bollocks

Sharing holiday snaps on social media is an act of arrogant vanity.

Television bosses should stop insulting the public's intelligence by assuming we are all idiots.

I hate the word 'sneering', I can't help the way my face looks.

The defining problem of contemporary television is trust: Can you believe what you see on television, does television treat people fairly, is it healthy for society?

It seems to me that the way to remove people's cynicism is, when asked a straight question, to give a straight answer.

We are immortal beings, Thristan. You cannot hate me throughout all eternity.

Having gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a gift and not deliver it.

I watch a lot of television. I always have.

Bigger doesn't mean better unless you really understand what bigger is.

I lift weights four times a week, usually run five days a week.

Especially when you play at home, you need a good atmosphere behind you.

The past is like a handful of dust. It filters through your fingers, disappearing little by little. I wish, for one day, I could go back. In another life I would do things differently.

There's nothing here to say good-bye to. There's no dancing girl. No mischievous smile. She's gone, off with her sisters, broken free, escaped. And if she were here now, she would say, "Go.

There are some family traditions I don't want my children to carry on.

All the spring may be hidden in the single bud, and the low ground nest of the lark may hold the joy that is to herald the feet of many rose-red dawns.