After you’ve read a novel, you only retain a vague memory of its contents. You remember the atmosphere, the odd image or phrase or vivid cameo.

It’s worth turning up to an awards gig if you know you’ve won one but, since you never do know, it’s not worth it.

The best way to prepare for a night out with a Shakespearean tragedy is to do a bit of reading up in the afternoon, eat a light supper – perhaps Welsh rarebit – and then arrive early to do some stretching exercises in the foyer before curtain-up.

Listening to Chris Moyles on Radio 1 is the most miserable thing any human being can do, but attending awards ceremonies isn’t far behind.

I’m an armchair kind of guy, especially when it’s raining, which it always is and always will be.

About every four years, someone says to me, ‘I’ve got a friend who looks exactly like you.’ What can you say to this?

My sister-in-law believes that few narratives are so tightly constructed that you can’t skip boring bits and still keep abreast of what’s going on.

I’ve always been interested in art.

Don Quixote’s ‘Delusions’ is an excellent read – far better than my own forthcoming travel book, ‘Walking Backwards Across Tuscany.’

The history of the relationship between comedy and swimming is short indeed. Of course it is always funny when someone falls into water, but that’s about it.