I knew that this was what I wanted to talk about on stage. There was no point being coy about it, or pretending that I wasn't gay. That was the substance of my whole act. If you took that away, there would be nothing left.

I've found a more personal, pagan kind of religion to satisfy the spiritual side of things.

Just because someone's dead doesn't mean it's over. My grandfather died more than 25 years ago, but I still think of him a lot and smell his smell.

The bullying was hideous and relentless, and we turned it round by making ourselves celebrities.

The good thing about getting older is that, as you become less attractive, so you have less desire to go out and conquer everyone you see.

It was all about wanting to get revenge. Pathetic, really, but it still is the motivation.

However light-hearted you try to be about it, the loss of youth, and everything that goes with it, is quite a trauma.

I am full of gratitude for my life - and for this house.

I didn't think of myself as a tart, but I wouldn't argue with anyone who did.

I get just as much of a thrill out of constructing a good sentence that gets a laugh at the end as I do from a joke.

I live in a kind of gay bubble. I live in a gay house, I drive a gay car. I eat gay food.

I think Australians like a bit of vulgarity.

I thought a dignified thing to do would be to live in the country by the time I'm 50 and write books.

I thought they were staring at me because I was gay. But it was because I was on the telly.

I was lightweight - that was the whole point of me.

I'm currently in an interesting correspondence with a nun about forgiveness.

I'm not sure how aware of the rest of the world I am. I live a rather sheltered existence.

If I've been here a long time, I think: I must go to London and speak to someone or see a bus.

It's a wise thing to hold back.

It's almost a way of life. I know what makes me laugh.