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A plague on eminence! I hardly dare cross the street anymore without a convoy, and I am stared at wherever I go like an idiot member of a royal family or an animal in a zoo; and zoo animals have been known to die from stares.

The things that prey on my mind in London seem to disappear as soon as I find myself in a different environment. Survival mode kicks in.

Once, I took a taxi. I hate those limousines. They stink and their drivers have been driving dead people to the cemeteries.

Of course there are times when I hate London, but equally there are times when I can walk 'round a corner and I really feel that this is my place.

I'm always struck when I go somewhere I've never been before, especially if it's in my home town, by just how different the atmosphere can be, and how disorienting it can be - especially if there's any kind of trouble.

I don't drive around London much. Any journey around Islington involves hundreds of speed bumps that seem to tear the bottom of your car off.

I love driving around east London - it's always full of surprises. Actually, I don't drive myself - I like to be driven.

Any time I wind up in the lane where you can't quickly turn off of it and it's turning into the freeway, I just start screaming until I'm off of it.

You hear about things happening to people - they slip in the bathtub, fall down the stairs, step off the curb in London because they think that the cars come the other way - and they die. You feel you want to die making an effort at something; you don't want to die in some unnecessary way.