I’ve just got crap hair. Although I inherited a lot of stuff from my dad, including giant knees, I didn’t get his good, thick hair. I got my mother’s thin, wispy, non-event hair instead.
What has happened to the good old-fashioned travel agent? I want to go to a really posh travel agent and have them organize everything for me. I don’t want to do things on the Internet.
I don’t think I’m successful.
The only way to go on holiday is with your expectations at ground level. Convince yourself before you go that the weather’s going to be dreadful and there will be nylon sheets. You’ll then be pleasantly surprised.
Without fake tan I have the skin tones of a dead jellyfish.
People often ask why comedy is harder for women, and the reason is because a tampon will sometimes fall out when you’re on stage. Blokes don’t have that worry.
If I do go to the beach there have to be certain rules: it can’t be a pebbly beach, there has to be some shade and there has to be a beach bar. I don’t want to go off the beaten track.
I have a fear of poverty in old age. I have this vision of myself living in a skip and eating cat food. It’s because I’m freelance, and I’ve never had a proper job. I don’t have a pension, and my savings are dwindling. I always thought someone would just come along and look after me.
I can’t watch other people doing comedy. As soon as somebody starts being funny I have to turn off because it upsets me. I get comedy indigestion. I just hate anybody else being funny. That’s my job.
As a five-year-old in Berlin in 1965, I didn’t know that funny women existed. It wasn’t until I got back to England that I realised women could be funny.
Well, I’m not good with sliminess. I hate the thought of creatures that have slime on them or creatures that leave a slimy trail. At home, the sight of a slug can bring up my breakfast.
I think as time goes by you’ll get female comics who are weirder – you’ll get a female Mighty Boosh.
I still can’t set up the ironing-board. A complete Luddite.
I’ve got this horrible feeling that I’m one of those people who’ll always have to flog their guts out to get anywhere.
After graduating from flares and platforms in the early 1970s, I started drama school wearing a pair of khaki dungarees with one of my Dad’s Army shirts, accessorised by a cat’s basket doubling as a handbag. Very Lady Gaga.
I prefer highs and lows to an even keel. Moderation is never something I’ve been good at.
Family is the one thing that is definitely not disposable.
Anyone who has dead straight hair wants curls.
As a rule, wearing a bigger pair of jeans looks better than squishing yourself into a pair of jeans that used to fit before you gave up smoking.
My older sister is bossy, my brother is a stirrer and me – well, I am perfect!