Quotes from John King

I've covered a couple wars and a lot of breaking news and a lot of cops-and-robbers situations.

Sometimes you feel sad to be left out of a big debate.

We're very good at telling what happens and showing people while it happens... But sometimes television fails to take the time to say 'Why did it happen? What does it mean?' - To step back a little bit.

Let him have his dreams and believe in love and romance. Suppose we all do deep down if we thought about being honest.

It really was shocking, as though the world was going mad, people turning in on themselves and falling prey to wicked thoughts.

He doesn't care if my trainers get wet because we're at the seaside and it doesn't matter at the seaside, nothing matters at the seaside.

You've got to take your chances in life, don't ignore the opportunities when the crop up as you don't get that many, every little helps, the small victories are important because that's your lot.

The rush is there and my body tingles. Sounds funny but it's true. It's better than shafting a bird. Better than speeding. Mark's head is a mess but the bleeding has stopped. My knuckles are bruised and Rod's eyes have gone a bit mental looking. We join the crush trying to get into the ground and we can hear the constant chant of CHELSEA. This is what life's all about. Tottenham away. Love it.

Little hooligans showing off is okay when they do it away from us, but we don't need that kind of behaviour. You have to have standards. Would have done the same when I was their age, but I'm not. Now is now. There's no room for nostalgia.

We look at a couple of lads as they walk into the pub, Jim Barnes from Slough and someone I don't recognise. A tall bloke with a silver earring who looks knackered with a bruised right eye and cuts along his knuckles. Must've had a good Friday night.

You can't change human nature. Men are always going to kick fuck out of each other then go off and shaft some bird. That's life.

It's one o'clock and we're having a pre-match pint. It's been a hard week at the warehouse and the lager gives me a kick-start.

It proved what the Vicar said, that there really was a devil lurking in the shadows in the dark recesses of the human mind, a monster preying on the defenceless, the old and the young, small boys and old ladies, the raving lunatics turned onto the streets for some care in the community. It really was shocking, as though the world was going mad, people turning in on themselves and falling prey to wicked thoughts.

This is the bottom of the shit heap this city. They can keep their Boys From the Blackstuff and Derek Hatton. I'd die in a place like this after growing up in London. I mean, London's shit, but it's home and nothing like Liverpool. This city has to be the arsehole of England. I don't blame Yosser Hughes for nutting everything in sight. I'd have done the same.

I never remember my dreams which suits me fine.

There's no time to muck about with nature and romance. Start thinking like that and you'll be old before your time.

You've got to make a stand, show a bit of class, all you've got to do is say no, but you know you're going to hate yourself in the morning.

You've got to look after yourself, nothing comes for free and you've got to do the other bloke before he does you. That's what the pensioners don't realise. They might be owed something but there's nobody left to cough up. It's a different world now. The war spirit is dead and gone, packaged and sold off to the highest bidder.

The ICF and Under Fives mean more around Upton Park than Ron and Reggie Kray. History stays around for years. But who cares about names.

You can be twice as tasty without the show. Just do the business and piss off before you're spotted.

It is Remembrance Day. A time to conjure up the mighty fallen. Friends and relatives rotting in the channel and mud of France. But the old man won't remember quite yet. Not till he's had his breakfast and read the paper. Then he will let the memories come back. Relive the good old days.

How many of those bastards lost people on D-day? Politicians start wars but they don't fight them. They cause the trouble and sign the forms and hide when the bombers come. How many of them suffered like I did? Answer me that.

I had the traditional print view of TV journalists: Those are pretty people who get paid a lot of money and don't do any work. It turned out I was wrong.

I always joke that a makeup-free day is good for the pores.