Not to lay it on with a trowel, but... when we talk of towers of strength; or sea changes; or pounds of flesh; or pomp and circumstance; or the dogs of war - or even the Queen's English, then it's Shakespeare!
I'm not alone. A new report by the British Council reveals that 34% of the UK can't stand the Bard. So why don't more of us say so? This silent suffering has become middle England's last taboo. The world might think we adore Shakespeare, our supposed national icon. But we don't: you can have him.
It seems remarkable that one man's legacy can still be having such a cultural impact on a nation 400 years after his death. But Shakespeare is no ordinary literary figure, with his work still being seen as a benchmark of the written word across the globe.
Perhaps it's because he was also responsible for so much of our literary history that we consider him mandatory for our offsprings' education, but surely no writer in the English language has ever written such beautifully obscene poems, plays and passages.
Ed Vaizey, Minister of State for Culture and the Digital Economy, is preparing to publish the first White Paper - a policy document that sets out the government's proposals for future legislation - on the arts since Jennie Lee's over 50 years ago. It's a hugely significant moment for organisations such as the Crafts Council.
A stupid question, you may think, but ask a group of well-known writers of both short stories and novels which is the more difficult form, as I did recently, and you get some interesting answers.
Where's Wally is a classic that's fun and tempting to play with. With Where's Warhol, we were lucky: the formula seemed made for him. Warhol's name begins with W, providing that essential alliteration in the title. Then there's Warhol's branded look of jeans, stripy jumper and dark glasses, which is uncannily similar to Wally's wardrobe.
I'll name you two things that are very pricey but integral to you not falling apart as a human being. One is therapy. The other is theatre... I can't help but feel like one is a bit like the other sometimes, and if you go to the Royal Court this month you can see two plays which are like an a very intense, cathartic, exhausting (but GOOD) workout for your soul.
Paul Wager describes himself as a proud Northerner without being a northern fanatic. Most of his sculptures are large constructions built of steel, a commodity once associated with his home town of Hartlepool.
Benjamin Sullivan's recent BP Award-nominated portrait of Hugo Williams is a powerful thing. It stirs memories in me of my experiences with the poet's work, and the poet himself, and how both have changed irreversibly in the past decade.
That our museums enjoyed around 5.55million visits in 2015/16 is testament not only to people's enduring fascination with the history of human ingenuity but also to the creativity of the people who work with me.
Zaha saw the creation of buildings and cities and their synergy in a way that seemed effortless and yet extraordinary in the same way.
Then there are images that draw us in, over and above aesthetics. I wondered how the new generation of photographers, those with a timely political agenda, make a place for themselves at the visual pulpit?
In truth, yes, those two actors kissing on stage are male. But one of the characters is not. She is a Hijra. She is not gay. She is not q/Queer. She is not transgender. She is something that Western societies can't understand or define.
What does this mean? In the current climate, any government commitment to culture is an achievement. But the narrowness of that commitment is a strategy in itself. Withdrawal of government support for cultural education from primary, secondary and tertiary state education has consequences.
Leo Butler's play takes a day in austerity Britain and zooms in on one boy. Kind of like a condensed episode of 24, except here Jack Bauer is a marginalised teen called Liam. He's not picking off terrorists; he's w*nking on to trees.