I don’t want to talk about it. Which is obviously a lie, because all I’ve done for the last – what, sixteen years? – is talk about this bril...

Remember in Dirty Dancing, when all you could freakin’ look at was Jennifer Grey’s nose? Except for, like, when you were looking at Patrick ...

I think I might have developed Tourette’s Syndrome. I’ll be happily watching television on a Tuesday night, making sophisticated, grown up c...

The tropics are overrated, I reckon. What’s so great about a place where your hair goes frizzy, you’re constantly plagued by mosquitoes, and...

Step, kick, step, step. Step, kick, step, ball-change. (No, Alexandra. It’s just an expression). Step, kick, kick, kick. Kick, kick, slap, s...

There are no good euphemisms for the female genitalia. Go on. Cock your head to one side and try to think of one. See? I couldn’t even pose ...

What not to say when you’re getting a boob-biopsy (all fine, looks benign): Jo: “Wow, that local anaesthetic’s good, isn’t it? I reckon with...