If they wanted their shit stirred, then stirred their shit was jolly well going to be.

If my critics saw me walking over the Thames they would say it was because I couldn't swim.

There were people who believed their opportunities to live a fulfilled life were hampered by the number of Asians in England, by the existance of a royal family, by the volume of traffic that passed by their house, by the malice of trade unions, by the power of callous employers, by the refusal of the health service to take their condition seriously, by communism, by capitalism, by atheism, by anything, in fact, but their own futile, weak-minded failure to get a fucking grip.

1. You left a multipack of Mars Bars on top of your wardrobe. Can I have one? Dad x

2. I had three. Hope that's OK. Dad x

3. I'm just going to have one more. Dad x

4. Harriet, your Dad's made himself sick on an entire multipack of Mars Bars again. Please don't leave sweets where we can find them. A x

Reform and exchange in English poetry are as slow as in the British constitution itself.

We worked on a few things that we've been working on from the British Open onwards with the swing, ... What we've done from there is incorporate a little bit more shot-making, picturing shots a little bit more, which I had completely gone off of for part of this year.