Don't Buy One Of Those Baby Intercoms.

When I Was 12, We Went From Glasgow To Aberdeen On A School Trip. It Was Called Fresh Air Fortnight.

I Think Of My Life As A Series Of Moments And I've Found That The Great Moments Often Don't Have Too Much To Them. They're Not Huge, Complicated Events; They're Just Magical Wee Moments When Somebody Says 'i Love You' Or 'you're A Really Good At What You Do' Or Simply 'you're A Good Person'.

I Don't Understand Art-speak. My Pictures Are Big Doodles. I'm Amazed What People Come Up With When They Look At Them. There's One Of A Figure With Two Heads That Somebody Thought Must Be A Comment On The State Of Matrimony. None Of It Is A Comment On Anything.

I Was Brought Up As A Catholic. I've Got A-level Guilt.

Don't Buy One Of Those Baby Intercoms. Babies Pretend To Be Dead. They're Bastards, And They Do It On Purpose.