On Our Way Home We

The Humble And Meek Are Thirsting For Lood

I'm Too Amused By The Way People Carry On To Give In To Despair.

Policemen, Like Red Squirrels, Must Be Protected.

On Our Way Home We Were Waiting For The Bus When A Very Fat, Pompous-looking Woman Reeled Out Of A Pub Shouting, "melancholia? Ad Nauseam."

People Think I Write Fantasy, But I Don't; Some Things May Be Exaggerated Or Distorted In The Same Way That Painters Distort And Alter Things, But They're Realistic Figures. They're Perfectly Recognisable.