Wendy Cope

Poet

1945-07-21

Quotes by Wendy Cope

• The day he moved out was terrible – That evening she went through hell.His absence wasn't a problemBut the corkscrew had gone as well.

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• Bloody men are like bloody buses — You wait for about a yearAnd as soon as one approaches your stopTwo or three others appear.You look at them flashing their indicators,Offering you a ride.You're trying to read the destinations,You haven't much time to decide.If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.Jump off, and you'll stand there and gazeWhile the cars and the taxis and lorries go byAnd the minutes, the hours, the days.

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• Write to amuse? What an appalling suggestion! I write to make people anxious and miserable and to worsen their indigestion.

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• On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.I wipe them away with a black woolly gloveAnd try not to notice I've fallen in loveOn Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:This is nothing. you're high on the charm and the drink.But the juke-box inside me is playing a songThat says something different. And when was it wrong?On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hairI am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care.the head does its best but the heart is the boss-I admit it before I am halfway across

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• The day he moved out was terrible – That evening she went through hell.His absence wasn't a problemBut the corkscrew had gone as well.

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• Write to amuse? What an appalling suggestion! I write to make people anxious and miserable and to worsen their indigestion.

  Read quote

• On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.I wipe them away with a black woolly gloveAnd try not to notice I've fallen in loveOn Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:This is nothing. you're high on the charm and the drink.But the juke-box inside me is playing a songThat says something different. And when was it wrong?On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hairI am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care.the head does its best but the heart is the boss-I admit it before I am halfway across

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• Bloody men are like bloody buses — You wait for about a yearAnd as soon as one approaches your stopTwo or three others appear.You look at them flashing their indicators,Offering you a ride.You're trying to read the destinations,You haven't much time to decide.If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.Jump off, and you'll stand there and gazeWhile the cars and the taxis and lorries go byAnd the minutes, the hours, the days.

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• Bloody Christmas, here again, let us raise a loving cup, peace on earth, goodwill to men, and make them do the washing up.

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