It Seems That One Moment I Was

Prostitution Reinforces All The Old Dumb Clichés About Women's Sexuality; That They Are Not Built To Enjoy Sex And Are Little More Than Walking Masturbation Aids, Things To Be Done To, Things So Sensually Null And Void That They Have To Be Paid To Indulge In Fornication, That Women Can Be Had, Bought, As Often As Not Sold From One Man To Another. When The Sex War Is Won Prostitutes Should Be Shot As Collaborators For Their Terrible Betrayal Of All Women.

Being A Child Is Horrible. It Is Slightly Better Than Being A Tree Or A Piece Of Heavy Machinery But Not Half As Good As Being A Domestic Cat.

In My Third Husband I Had Discovered A Blissfully Laid-back Type Who Thought It Nothing Less Than Hilarious When I Misread The Map On The Way To Wales, So It Took Us An Extra Three Hours, Or When I Was Sick In A Plastic Carrier Bag During Much Of The Drive Back From Devon - A Bag That Turned Out To Have A Hole In It.

It Must Be Said That Brighton, Unlike London, Makes Driving Seem Very Appealing. Instead Of Glowering Faces And Angry Horns On All Sides, We Have The Coast Road In Front Of Us And The Sussex Downs Just 10 Minutes Behind Us.

The Pictures From The First Professional Photo Session That The Young David Beckham Submitted Himself To Are Extraordinary. He Has A Barely Suppressed Smile, As Though He And The Cameraman Are Complicit In The Understanding That This Is Not Yet David Beckham We See And That There Is An Element Of Deceit In Selling The Photographs As Such