Stockings are tricky for girls - you worry about them falling down all night and the idea that you dress up at 7pm so that your boyfriend can get excited about six hours later is just too much effort.

Things I am allergic to: people who believe in star signs and think nothing of starting a conversation with: 'Hi, my name's Lucy. I'm a Sagittarius;' rodents (apart from miniature hamsters, which are not in fact rodents but small, breathing, brown balls of cotton wool); and people who go to the gym.

There's no doubt a bit of chicken in a creamy mushroom sauce with a side order of garlic mash will put a smile on your face.

I really like Jon Snow in quite an unhealthy way - he's got a jaunty tie and a fast brain.

You've never met anyone who likes Christmas more than me. I go quite Liberace. My kids have all got stick-on antlers.

Men fill up their heads and drawers and sheds with stuff from their teenage years.

Being hummed at by someone with magic hands while they knead your neck is good for the soul, but it won't make you giggle for days afterwards. In fact, the second the smiley therapist stops and says, 'You can put your robe on now, the hour is up,' the joy and wonder sort of leaves the room.

I've never felt the need to show that I am either clever or tall because I'm not.

I don't work very hard. I dye myself orange and I read out loud in the months from September to December when 'Strictly' is on.

I loved 'Life is Beautiful' and action films are great, like 'Die Hard.' My favourite is the mob film - 'Goodfellas,' 'The Godfather,' 'Once Upon a Time In America,' anything with Robert De Niro in it.

If a straight man dresses well, chances are he's not straight.

I don't have any secrets; I don't believe in secrets.

I always have eyeliner in the house. There might be no bread, we might be out of milk, but there's always eyeliner.

I make a good roast chicken.

I prefer to stick to my old-lady goth/Steve Tyler look. I've found my look - white lipstick, black eyeliner, black clothes.

I don't think I'd get employed if I did pastel eye and a side parting. People would say: 'Get someone else for the job!'

I still have to stand on a box to post a letter.

Left to their own devices, men would wear trainers with a pair of stonewashed jeans and would think nothing of throwing on a donkey jacket.

If you asked 100 women on the street who they'd like to be, I'm sure most of them would say Kirsty Wark or Germaine Greer. Yawn. Do me a favour - they're lying.

I used to spend hours reading the Sunday papers, but then I had 900 children so I don't any more.

I like cookery shows much more than my husband, so I put them on the minute he goes away.

Top-flight football players are a strange bunch.

I'd like my children to remember all the cuddles and bedtimes, and that I worshipped them unconditionally.

I'm confident without make-up on and I only wear it for work.

When I want to feel especially grateful, I think about the early days dressing up as an orange for Fruit Awareness Week.

I was a sucker for glamorous women in shoulderpads eating fancy things like eggs benedict.

I never go to parties. I never go to premieres. You can't play that game, because it's short-lived and you want a life.

Grown-up parties are so dull they make me want to throw a tantrum and hurl red wine on the nearest cream-damask armchair.

I can't stand people who say they've got 'Africa fatigue.'

My mum raised me in a home without mirrors. She's a staunch feminist and wanted us to know that what we look like is the least interesting thing about us.

I go to bed with as much makeup on as I can so I look cooler in my dreams.

There's nothing quite as perfect as going to a dark room where you can eat fattening food next to the man you love. OK. All right. Like. The man you like.

I don't like ads: I'm too susceptible. I find myself in the supermarket buying Ronseal, and I don't even have a shed.

My kids are the offspring of people who are doing reasonably well and live in the centre of London and the chances are they're going to turn out ghastly anyway. Who's to say they shouldn't have a walk-in wardrobe and possibly a stylist from the age of four?

Men are, on the whole, born without any fashion sense whatsoever. I don't say this to be mean, but I'm just being honest.

On 'Richard And Judy' I dressed up as an orange for Fruit Awareness Week.

All my life, I have avoided any sort of exercise. I don't enjoy sweating and I think people who show off about having just done 20 press-ups are pretty weird.

The reason why those female celebrities are always in filthy moods is not because they're being hounded by men with massive cameras or because Ridley Scott cancelled their film. They just want to get their hands on a cheeseburger.

I am box-set girl; I buy into those big American series like 'The Sopranos' and 'Heroes.'

Now people who keep fish disturb me the most, if I'm totally honest. They always smell a bit like fish food and they know just a bit too much about eels.

Who actually enjoys skiing? Come on, even Olympic ski masters, even James Bond, think that dressing up in all that fluorescent, insulated kit and having to manoeuvre down a mountain in the freezing cold is no way to spend leisure time.

I avoid envy at all costs.

I won a robotics championship when I was 13.

I am allergic to fancy dress. This is actual fact.

I have always been a little bit forgetful.

I couldn't tell you my wedding anniversary (although I seem to remember it was in June. Or maybe July. Definitely a month beginning with a 'J,' anyhow. But not January. Um. I think) and people I went to school with get extremely fed up with me when I bump into them in the street and have absolutely no recollection of their faces.

Forgetting stuff is just human, especially when other things are on our minds.

Weddings happen once. That's the point. They're a bluster of confetti and hope all wrapped up in sticky wedding cake and four-year-old girls in big dresses with massive bows.

There's no fun in relationships. OK - that's not strictly true. I will agree that the first bit can be not totally unpleasant. There's the initial meeting and the heart quickening and the stomach-churning excitement of it all.

The truth is that tights are just so cosy.