Successful writers say you should never work from a desk with a view, and the view I have from this one is a huge distraction. There's a garden bursting with fresh vegetation, and just beyond the high wall at the end of it, I can see the sign of the local pub across the road. Distractions, eh? I'm so easily led.

I'm a Taurus, you know. A bull. I belong in a field.

If comedians were truly free of repression, there would not be an inherent need to perform for the love of a roomful of total strangers.

Milk which is just about to turn is akin to that moment spent on the cusp of failure in a dulled and fettered relationship.

Here I sit, beneath the large window of a first-floor Georgian flat, exploring the corridors of my sordid imagination for comedic words of beauty.