I admire the Elsie Tanners and Barbara Windsors of the world: people who have crawled back from the abyss. I'm quite camp in that respect.
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.
I wouldn't say I was grumpy. It's more pathological - I have seismic tantrums. I get red in the face and cry at least three times a week, and I have to lie down and have a nap afterwards.
I love fashion, but I don't come from a background of loving clothes, and I remember feeling badly dressed from a young age.
I can eat a man, but I'm not sure of the fiber content.
I'm very jealous of my daughter's education. She's been inspired by her teachers, and nobody inspired me as a teenager.
I don't do marriage. I think it's incredibly naff. And I don't like vulgar displays of ostentation.
There should be more booing in shops and restaurants and places like that when when the service is bad. If you've had a poor breakfast in a hotel, you should put your knife and fork down and boo.
I'm a schizophrenic mix of wannabe glamourpuss and absolute slob, and my style is very much magistrate-meets-barmaid.
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.
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 am best viewed from a distance.
I prefer highs and lows to an even keel. Moderation is never something I've been good at.
I'm the least spiritual person in the world. I can't even abide a smelly candle. I know it's meant to make me relax, and that immediately makes my hackles rise.