“Yes. Yes, when we live our life like 1950s detective films. I often go to my fridge, “Hullo, we’re out of milk. I say mother, where’s the milk?””

We just want to make the walls cave in and the ceiling collapse. Music is meant to be played as loudly as possible, really raw and punchy, and I’ll punch out anyone who doesn’t like it the way I do.

I’m 33…before AC/DC I’ve played in a lot of bands in Australia. You’re never too old to rock and roll.

There is no legitimate use whatsoever for marijuana. This is not medicine. This is bogus witchcraft. It has no place in medicine, no place in pain relief.

It keeps you fit – the alcohol, nasty women, sweat on stage, bad food – it’s all very good for you.

What’s a punk band? Hey, who’s got a beer?

Homogeneity is much to be admired – in milk, for instance – but not for parties.

Oh, let us lose our milk teeth and cut instead the strong teeth of hate and love.

Maybe it’s a little ambitious of me to presume that no matter how big the film is, that I can always go down to the shop to buy a pint of milk.

With melted opals for my milk, Pearl-leaf for my cracker.

Take a cat, nourish it well with milk and tender meat, make it a couch of silk.

If a cow laughed, would milk come out her nose?

Trees bear fruits only to be eaten by others; the fields grown grains, but they are consumed by the world. Cows give milk, but she doesn’t drink it herself – that is left to others. Clouds send rain only to quench the parched earth. In such giving, there is little space for selfishness.

My wife actually got worried about my drinking so much regular milk, you know, so she got me into rice milk and now soy milk, which I greatly enjoy. A soy mocha’s a fine thing.