The Weasel Under The Cocktail Cabinet.

The Past Is What You Remember, Imagine You Remember, Convince Yourself You Remember, Or Pretend You Remember.

A Writer's Life Is A Highly Vulnerable, Almost Naked Activity. We Don't Have To Weep About That. The Writer Makes His Choice And Is Stuck With It. But It Is True To Say That You Are Open To All The Winds, Some Of Them Icy Indeed. You Are Out On Your Own, Out On A Limb. You Find No Shelter, No Protection - Unless You Lie - In Which Case Of Course You Have Constructed Your Own Protection And, It Could Be Argued, Become A Politician.

When You Lead A Life Of Scholarship You Can't Be Bothered With The Humorous Realities, You Know, Tits, That Kind Of Thing.

Referees Are The Law. They Have A Whistle. They Blow It. And That Whistle Is The Articulation Of God's Justice.

I'll Tell You What I Really Think About Politicians. The Other Night I Watched Some Politicians On Television Talking About Vietnam. I Wanted Very Much To Burst Through The Screen With A Flame Thrower And Burn Their Eyes Out And Their Balls Off And Then Inquire From Them How They Would Assess The Action From A Political Point Of View.