Quotes from Stephen Richards

He caught me neat, right on the fucking face and I took one step back and thought, you're not getting away with that you bastard! I was punching the piss out of him, he kept going down, but I didn't kick him, he'd had enough. I didn't put the boot in to a man older than myself. But this confrontation was out of the blue, out of the fucking blue. That's what I had to face.

If we let the drama of others' lives become our own, then we are no longer ourselves. We become the reflections of others' dramas and their lives, their tragedies, and their misfortunes become our own.

You cannot give out a negative frequency, that of disrespect, and expect respect to flow toward you. Neither can you hold on to your biases, prejudices and negative thinking toward something, and expect that something positive will return to you.

Thank God! He went down in front of the bar on the tiled floor. BANG! The fat bastard, he shattered both knees with the weight of him. My hands were in just a little bit of pain, but I was driven on to keep punching his fat head in by the gratifying squeals I was eliciting from him and, broken hands or not, with the coup de grace… I knocked him out.

Life can only give you what you give back to it, and it all begins with the right attitude.

Everyone in the valleys knew me and because of that, so many people used my name in the valleys that there must have been at least a hundred times a night that the name 'Malcolm Price' was used.

I had chosen a blind spot at the end of the plumbers' shop to make my escape bid. Under my overalls I wore extra jeans, vest, t-shirt and I had a donkey jacket on that I intended to throw over the razor wire. Hopefully the extra clothes would stop the razor wire from cutting me.

I never knew any of these people who were using my name, if I had a fiver for every time my name was used for protective purposes by these people to ward off trouble then I'd be a millionaire many times over by now.

I always thought of myself as being the unluckiest girl I knew. I was, I believed, a 'jinx' and I was 'jinxed', or so I thought!

In answer to my prayers, the Devil that was supposed to be me scolded me for the request of a clergyman. The Devil spoke to God Almighty and they agreed that I could have the vicar's soul to aggravate. I wanted something I hated for my escape, and that would be the vicar that denied my powers of the voices in the sky and denounced me as 'abomination.' I would escape the obstacles and think of my power, the power to communicate with God Almighty and the Devil.

At first, we both miss a few sharp bursts of wild punches and then, BANG! I catch him with a full swing left hook and he goes down like a ferret down a hole after a rabbit. When that punch landed, I broke my hand, again, and simultaneously broke his jaw. I wonder if that is an entry into the Guinness Book of records?

When I got off him, I spat the blood that was swamping my mouth in to his face, I looked down at him and it really looked like he was dying… shit! The ambulance arrived in about a minute and they got an oxygen mask straight on him and I could see the life draining out of him. You see, this is the problem; we are only human and flesh and blood.

As a child, I was attractive to paedophiles. I suppose being indecently assaulted when I was 13 years old should have warned me that there were some weird and dangerous men out there, but I had got over that episode in my life.

Straightaway, they started chatting and telling me their names: Fred and Rose West. I was surprised that they were married, I wouldn't have fancied someone like him, and she was pretty. I felt she could have done a lot better for herself, but they seemed happy and he was quite charming, in a roguish kind of way.

One quarter of a mile is, in metric terms, about 400 metres. I believe the world record for a man to cover this distance by use of his legs is about forty something seconds. At that time, I would have bet any amount of money that I would have beaten the world record at that distance as I sprinted like a tornado across the open farmer's fields.

There was just one cheeky bastard in the club that night and it started World War Three. There was a bloodbath down there, they all got locked up, and the police dogs didn't need feeding for a week after that.

Resentment's appetite is never fulfilled.

If you lose your mind when in a large group then use someone else's!

The Solent was one the worse stretches of sea in England; the current and tides were atrocious, but it was summer and this time the currents and tides were predictable. However, I did not know this; I picked a spot that I could see from the phone, where I would swim from.

Philosophers think, creators make!

The sea was washing me crosswise and the speed of my strokes pushed me forward, but at a slower pace than the sideways wash. The float that I had tied around my chest was more of a hindrance as it was caught in the tide and floated sideways on the current, it should have been strung out behind me as I swam onwards. This extra effort was making huge demands on my oxygen requirement, I breathed harder and had to avoid intakes of seawater.

At 31 years of age, Fred West was a big man trapped in a little man's body. He thought himself to be a gynecologist and Warren Beatty look-a-like all rolled into one … the surgeon and the stud.

Once you'd been with Freddie, you wouldn't go anywhere else.' (How true this was to prove.) This incessant bragging by Fred West was at best, annoying and at worst, sickening. According to him, he was God's gift to women.

I know people have swum the 3.5 mile stretch of the Solent from the Isle of Wight to the mainland for charity, and some just for the hell of it in the Cross Solent Swim, but this was at night, in the dark and without the help of a nearby boat to haul me in to safety. I didn't have the benefit of tidal maps, accompanied swimming mates in near perfect conditions or the likes. I only my strength of determination and the beckoning lights on the mainland to aim for.