The words were clumsy in my mouth, like typing with hammers.

Without inspiration, we’re all like a box of matches that will never be lit.

A good speech should be like a woman's skirt; long enough to cover the subject and short enough to create interest.

Reasoning with a drunkard is like
Going under water with a torch to seek for a drowning man.

I was wary of my sister's cooking, which invariably consisted of a tubular pasta and economy cheese, charred black on the surface, with either tinned tuna or lardy mince lurking beneath the molten crust ... So that evening, in a tiny flat in Tooting, I was pushed into the tiny kitchen where sixteen people sat crammed around a tiny trestle table designed for pasting wallpaper, one of my sister's notorious pasta bakes smouldering in its centre like a meteorite, smelling of toasted cat food.

He's as nutty as a vegan T-bone.