I love watching the Oscars and seeing everybody saying all that 'it's an honour just to be nominated' rubbish. Then you see their faces when the split screen comes up as the winner is announced - the losers are all smiling through gritted teeth and looking as if they just swallowed half a pound of soor plooms.
Even if you never do anything about this, you've benefited from an unjust system. You're already the winner in a game that was rigged to your advantage from the start.
When we were at Stoke and we first got in to the Premier League we had been second in the Championship and were regular winners in that division. The following year we weren't regular winners, so you have to manage yourself and you have to be positive yourself you have to lift the players.
I've always wanted to be a winner, the best player, the one that everyone is talking about. I'm greedy in that sense.
There's an easy way to tell who won a fight, whether it occurs in a ring or in a schoolyard. Watch it with a second-grade boy and ask him the winner. He'll always know. If he doesn't know, the fight wasn't worth watching.
If a great destruction occurs in Bangkok, then the country as a whole is also destroyed. In such a case, what is the point of anyone feeling proud to be the winner, when standing on a pile of ruins and rubble?
There's a competitive grief atmosphere in acting classes. Like, whoever has the biggest trauma is sort of like the winner of the day today or gets the A+. That, I could identify with from when I sort of dabbled with method acting classes when I was a teenager.
If the first entrant always wins the market, the Dreamcast must have won the race against the PS2, for example. There are many precedents like that in the past. The first to market is not necessarily the winner in the race.
I used to think that nails-down-a-chalkboard was the worst sound in the world. Then I moved on to people-eating-cereal-on-the-phone. But only this week did I stumble across the rightful winner: it's the sound of a baggage carousel coming to a grinding halt, having reunited every passenger on your flight with their luggage, except for you.