The constant awareness is the worst part. Usually I walk around blissfully ignorant of my throat. I never think: "Ooh, aren't I lucky to have a throat?" or anything like that. But right now I'm obsessed with it. It's like the early days of a love affair, when the other person is all you can think about, except here the "other person" is played by my own throat, and there's no sex involved because that would be impossible and probably just make it even more sore.

http://m.guardian.co.uk/world/2005/dec/16/religion.uk1?cat=world&type=article

Robbie Williams would never suddenly turn into a two-dimensional diagram of himself printed on the inside of a ball bearing which continually rolls out of your field of vision the second you realise it's there.

 

http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2005/dec/09/tvandradio.charliebrooker