People say I wasted my money.
I say 90 per cent went on women, fast cars and booze;
the rest I wasted.
Patients don’t die in hospital at the weekend,
there’s not enough staff on duty.
You have the wrong name,
you’re the wrong colour and you dress funny.
Your profile’s not to our liking.
I cannot choose one hundred best books
because I have written only five.
There’s only one superpower
and it’s not India, China, America or Russia;
it’s a tiny state
that does as it likes and answers to no one.
The insurance man told me the accident policy
covered falling off the roof but not hitting the ground.
Two skeletons copulating on a tin roof in a thunderstorm
Thomas Beecham describing the sound of the harpsichord
Shit, mother, i can’t dance.
Vulgarism expressing personal incompetence.
Were it, ‘Dance, mother, i can’t shit’ we’d be in the realms of magic and ritual.
Picture your mother in flamingo-feather headdress and natural fabric loincloth prancing around the room in an attempt to expedite your motion.
Perfection has one major drawback – it’s boring.
We don’t mind admitting it, George was right.
We watch you and listen to you all the time,
and when judges and others tell us stop, we don’t.
National security and all that.