"I have been commissioned to write an autobiography and I would be grateful to any of your readers who could tell me what I was doing between 1960 and 1974."

"One way to stop a runaway horse is to bet on him."

"Oh, to me not drinking is like being dead, almost."

j.

"Dear Mr Bernard

I read with interest your letter asking for information as to your behaviour and whereabouts between the years 1960 and 1974. On a certain evening in September 1969, you rang my mother to inform her that you were going to murder her only son. If you would like further information, I can put you in touch with many people who have enjoyed similar bizarre experiences in your company.

Yours Sincerely,
Michael Molloy
Editor
Daily Mirror."

Great quotes! I am now wiser having read them.

And on:

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=4VdAf4-L7zY

His Low Life books are well worth a read.

I've only just started in on the first title I could lay hands on More Low Life.

From his letter to the elusive, and fictitious, Ms Right:

What fun we could have had. You ironing my shirts and me pissing off to Newmarket for three days. And think of all those marvelous recriminations you've missed. You could have stabbed me in the back  so very often over those awful woman to woman lunches you go in for. And you would have had the added bonus of feeling almost pious with your dreadful, liberal, broadminded tolerance... You really have a got a hell of a nerve calling yourself Ms Right.

And another moment:

I was walking along Cleveland Street the other day in a cold drizzle when I suddenly came across an amazing collage on the pavement which just about summed up the human condition to perfection. It comprised a pool of vomit, an empty beer can, some dog shit and a sprinkling of confetti. I am not a squeamish man and I expect people who drink beer to vomit from time to time and allow their dogs to foul the pavement but there was something so stark about the confetti that it has been in and on my mind ever since.

Thanks again for making me aware of Mr Bernard.