I soon got a job as a fire-watcher at the Royal Naval Dockyard, the main employer in Plymouth. If anybody… — John Cooper Clarke

At some point, the Mod look had a short-lived Country Life moment, when the gorgeous mohair sheen of the three-button suit gave way to matte autumnal earth tones. Give it a name: fucking brown.

This guy was going to marmalise me! I mean, where's the kudos in beating up a seven-stone fucking consumptive? I was a self-confessed coward, then as now. My coat of arms has been detailed elsewhere: four white feathers on a field of yellow. Nothing for me is more terrifying than physical pain....

[on his Dad] He didn't share the general public's dim view of the late Joseph Stalin.