I dream of a collaboration that would finally be total, in which the librettist would often think as a composer and the composer as a librettist.
A good fighter usually knows, to within a very few seconds, when a three-minute round is going to end.
The one I remember is going into London, as it was for us in Essex, on New Year's Eve in 1981. There were four of us and we'd had a few lagers on the way. One of my mates threw up in the Tube and then stood up and fell over in it. We thought it was the funniest thing we'd ever seen.

