“I am nice, yeah. I’m cool. But I’m no push-over. And if someone gets one over on me, they’ve done it when my eyes were closed, and it doesn’t happen twice.”

The belt doesn’t represent me; it’s how you deal with people, how you represent yourself as a champion. The belt is a sign of a champion, but what makes a champion is the things I have just said.

I don’t have a strict diet; I keep it simple. I try to eat fish, meat, veg and carbs – potatoes and rice – but I’ll try and pack it in because as I’m burning so much energy. I have to see food as an energy source.

There’s this idea that because I’m a heavyweight, I’m not supposed to be in condition, that I should take advantage of the fact that I can eat. But I train and eat well, and it shows when I step on the scales.

I want it all: I want the attention and live for the glory nights.

There’s so much pressure on becoming the next Muhammad Ali or Mike Tyson, and if you don’t achieve that in boxing, you’re nothing.

Boxing is the embodiment of who I am, but beyond that, this is a journey of the self, and my obsession to get the most from this short life.

I’ll get seven hours sleep a night, but after breakfast, I’ll have an hour just resting, to recover. In Spain they all have siestas, even businessmen.

Don’t worry about the title. Worry about what you’ve got to do today, tomorrow, the next day, and that title will be waiting for you.

Boxing’s a sport that gives you licence to act like an idiot, I think.

People have built me up to be untouchable, unbeatable, invincible, and I’m not that. I am a man, and I am a winner, but that can change in a second.

When you are caught with a big shot, you don’t really feel it. It’s like being in a car crash, and maybe your arm has been ripped off… it is only when you look down at it that you realise it has happened.

I know every fight could be my last fight, and if that happens, that’s not just a health issue, but I’ll be knocked off that king’s stool.

No matter how big and strong you are even Tyson said he was scared as hell walking to the ring. Everyone feels the pressure.

I still feel I am that 14-year-old kid, hungry and trying to find a way through life. That’s what I’m trying to develop, trying to be good at something through boxing. But I feel like that young kid who’s trying and trying.

The way I meditate is by being organised. I can get real Zen if I go home and tidy the front room.

I didn’t make the most of school, but boxing has given me discipline.

Treat everyone you meet like God in drag.

Take the attitude of a student, never be too big to ask questions, never know too much to learn something new.

Always, always, always referring every goddam thing that happens right back to our lousy little egos.

When it comes to swag, there’s no gender involved.

Hate me for who I am, I don’t care. At least I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not.

I stand by every mistake I’ve ever made, so judge away.

The solution to a crisis pregnancy is not to kill the innocent baby but to deal with the mother’s values and her attitudes toward life.

My tattoos complement my attitude.