TEN YEARS FROM NOW, if I wake up one morning and go, "You know what? I think I'm going to do it," I can guarantee you, just for spite, Liam would say, "Oh, no, I'm not keen." Because that's the way shit works.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME MY WIFE GOT IN THIS MORNING? Half-six! She was out last night with her mates. I was woke up this morning with a tap on the head from my eldest. I looked at the clock and it was half-six, and he went, "She's just got in." So I told her, "I'm not doing your PR no more. I don't get any back." SHE'S VERY FUNNY and it goes without saying that she's gorgeous and all that. Yeah, she's top, man. She is great. And I'm looking forward to getting home today because she's going to have the fear. It's one of my favourite parts of having a relationship, is when she has the fear because I'll pounce on her like a lion - and I don't mean sexually. I'll stoke the fear for a good four or five hours before she goes to bed. And I'll be just looking at her going, "You looked like you'd exploded out of your knickers when you got in this morning." Mentally breaking her down. I'm such a cunt.

ALL THE PR I DO FOR THAT WOMAN, I didn't even get a fucking birthday present last time. Fucking hell! She pulls out that one:"But you've got everything! How many more effects pedals can I buy you?" One more! One fucking more will do. One more! THE AMOUNT OF TIMES she'll say to me,"You couldn't give us a fucking rub there?" "No! Go to a fucking spa! I'm not massaging any fucker."

— March 1994, London