Quotes from Wendy Cope

I've never been more famous than I was, suddenly, in 1986.

I've never been more famous than I was, suddenly, in 1986.

Bloody Christmas, here again, let us raise a loving cup, peace on earth, goodwill to men, and make them do the washing up.

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange The size of it made us all laugh. I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave— They got quarters and I had a half. And that orange it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park This is peace and contentment. It's new. The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all my jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I'm glad I exist.

Bloody men are like bloody buses — You wait for about a year And as soon as one approaches your stop Two or three others appear. You look at them flashing their indicators, Offering you a ride. You're trying to read the destinations, You haven't much time to decide. If you make a mistake, there is no turning back. Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by And the minutes, the hours, the days.

My heart has made its mind up And I'm afraid it's you. Whatever you've got lined up, My heart has made its mind up And if you can't be signed up This year, next year will do. My heart has made its mind up And I'm afraid it's you.

The day he moved out was terrible – That evening she went through hell. His absence wasn't a problem But the corkscrew had gone as well.

Write to amuse? What an appalling suggestion! I write to make people anxious and miserable and to worsen their indigestion.

Differences of Opinion 1 HE TELLS HER He tells her that the earth is flat -- He knows the facts, and that is that. In altercations fierce and long She tries her best to prove him wrong, But he has learned to argue well. He calls her arguments unsound And often asks her not to yell. She cannot win. He stands his ground. The planet goes on being round.

Making Cocoa For Kingsley Amis It was a dream I had last week And some kind of record seemed vital. I knew it wouldn't be much of a poem But I love the title.

I am a poet. I am very fond of bananas. I am bananas. I am very fond of a poet. I am a poet of bananas. I am very fond. A fond poet of 'I am, I am'- Very bananas. Fond of 'Am I bananas? Am I?'-a very poet. Bananas of a poet! Am I fond? Am I very? Poet bananas! I am. I am fond of a 'very.' I am of very fond bananas. Am I a poet?

Two cures for love 1. Don't see him. Don't phone or write a letter. 2. The easy way: Get to know him better.

Nine-Line Triolet Here's a fine mess we got ourselves into, My angel, my darling, true love of my heart Etcetera. Must stop it but I can't begin to. Here's a fine mess we got ourselves into - Both in spin with nowhere to spin to, Bound by the old rules in life and in art. Here's a fine mess we got ourselves into, (I'll curse every rule in the book as we part) My angel, my darling, true love of my heart.

A Green Song (to sing at the bottle-bank) One green bottle, Drop it in the bank. Ten green bottles, What a lot we drank. Heaps of bottles And yesterday's a blank. But we'll save the planet, Tinkle, tinkle, clank! We've got bottles - Nice, percussive trash. Bags of bottles Cleaned us out of cash. Empty bottles, We love to hear them smash And we'll save the planet, Tinkle, tinkle, crash!

Bloody men are like bloody buses - you wait for about a year and as soon as one approaches your stop two or three others appear.

Another Christmas Poem Blood Christmas, here again. Let us raise a loving cup: Peace on earth, goodwill to men, And make them do the washing-up.

New Season No coats today. Buds bulge on chestnut trees, And on the doorstep of a big, old house A young man stands and plays his flute. I watch the silver notes fly up And circle in the blue sky above the traffic, Travelling where they will. And suddenly this paving-stone Midway between my front door and the bus stop Is a starting point. From here I can go anywhere I choose.

I like buying clothes, especially as I get a tax-deductible allowance.

Bloody Christmas, here again, let us raise a loving cup, peace on earth, goodwill to men, and make them do the washing up.

The interesting thing is that you don't often meet a poet who doesn't have a sense of humour, and some of them do keep it out of their poems because they're afraid of being seen as light versifiers.

Possibly I've become less funny as I've been happier.

I've said what I'm prepared to say in my poems, and then journalists think that you're going to tell them a whole lot more.

I was single for a long time and felt very much alone in the world, and talk of family values upset me very much at that phase in my life, because I used to think: 'What about people like me?

I think it's a question which particularly arises over women writers: whether it's better to have a happy life or a good supply of tragic plots.