Not to be able to do the things that you take for granted, like running up the tube steps or going somewhere under your own steam.

Not being able to run.

Losing the ability to get about.

I go in every day to the office. I don't accomplish hardly anything. I mean, in terms of – it just takes me way longer to do things. And Greg is so good. It was kind of embarrassing how good he is, because he has covered – you know, we've got about 200 businesses within Berkshire, you know, that came about, and I can't name the manager's names or their wives names, or – and I haven't seen them, you know, in a long time. It's easier just to write the letter once a year and kind of do my own thing. Greg covers more ground in a day than I would in a week, even when I was at my peak, let alone my present condition.

I’m so tempted to answer serial killer.

When I was 16, my dad got drunk at the Oval cricket ground and harangued Sir Garry Sobers, possibly the greatest cricketer of all time, because he didn’t agree with who he’d given as man of the match.

Through a series of mistakes in write-ups, I’d like to be remembered for something like being Britain’s finest downhill skier or inventing pickled onions.

When I had cancer. I was having a shave and thought: “Are you meant to have a big hard lump on one side of your neck?”

At 16, I thought I’d be part of transforming the world into a socialist egalitarian arena of peace and justice. I’m not sure we’ve quite managed it.

Should talk less.