"Hello and everything by the way! I don't spend a huge amount of time on that... because i find, you know, it's one of the portals of conversation. People get very very freaked out about it, because you can use 'Hello' and then after that you're on your own really, you know, people get scared after 'Hello' they go... 'Hello... *errrugh*..... *scratched head*...Do you want a Pinapple?'... What to do next. So i just kind of skip it."
"The cookery programmes that everybody watches are... Rediculous, as, so are the house programmes, you know, you do not NEED a fish tank in the atrium you haven't got. And, people coming round they... Fell under pressure to preform in their lives. Who has the time though? Who really has the time to skin the baby rabbit, and dip in the ducks tears and nail it to the garden roof and get to work with the blow torch so it has just the right texture, so it matches your squash that morning, using just your elbows. Who has the time? Nobody lives like this! We go around thinking that everybody else does, you know? Because what happens is you come in from work, you think... Maybe at most, if you're getting very adventurous, you will think TONIGHT, we will eat something that has two colours in it. BUT YOU DON'T! You nd up sitting infront of the television, watching these programmes, eating bread...FROM THE BAG...dipping it in anything runnier than bread, because there's isn't time for this horse shit!"
"Then this song came on—I will never forget it—it was called "The Funk Soul Brother." And I will always remember that because it was also all of the lyrics... and, er, it was that school of songwriting, you know, very easy on the words in case they get wasted... I don't know what... there's a shortage, and... it sounded like a million fire engines chasing ten million ambulances through a war zone and was played at a volume that made the empty chair beside me bleed. And it went, erm, "Funk soul brother... right about now... yeah... it's the, it's the funk soul brother... check it out. It's, er, well... it's the funk soul brother, essentially. He's, er, he's coming. He's coming at you. It's the... well... it's the funk soul brother." And after a while, I began to penetrate the meaning of this song, you know? I gathered that somebody was about to arrive, and everybody else was terribly excited. Maybe he was bringing cake or something, they didn't say. But the thing was, you see, he wasn't there yet. Ha ha, that was the hook! I'm not saying it's a bad song, you know, or anything like that. All I'm saying is that if you get—I don't know—a broom, say, and dip it in some brake fluid, put the other end up my arse, stick me on a trampoline in a moving lift, and I would write a better song on the walls."
"People do... need... things... that are bad for them. They do. Stimulants and so on. They always have. Every so often, some politician or footballer or actor or whoever it is is caught in a hotel room, surrounded by hookers and cocaine. And everybody else goes: "Oh, the shame of it! How could he? How absolutely dreadful! I'd never do that... I've never had a chance but I'd never ever do that! Oh, the disgust that courses through me right now — you could bottle it!" But what else are you supposed to give hookers in a hotel room? "Yogurt, anybody! I made some yogurt this morning, would you like some? It's got Granola and everything. You sure? Go on, have a bit."
"Or when people break up, they always use a bunch of lines on each other, you know, terrible rubbish lies, like "It’s not you, it’s me, it’s me." It’s NEVER you, it’s always them! You should level with these people! Tell them! "You know that strange sound you used to hear when you were going to sleep? That was me CHEWING the bed, out of sheer boredom! OOOOHH, How I HATE you, I hate you so much it gives me energy! I have to get up early in the morning to hate you because there isn’t time enough in the day. Please, GO AWAY!" Or that other BULLSHIT: "I need more space!" People never quantify exactly how much space they really need.. do they? But strangely enough, it always seems to be the exact same height, depth and breadth as you."
“On coming face to face with three skinheads: "Now I'm not an expert at mathematics, but I calculated it would take at least three of me to take on one third of one of them, even if they were attacking me with just their arse."
"I’m not a fighter, I’m a bleeder. The best I could hope for would be to drown somebody else in my own blood. If I don’t drown myself before."
"Death before dishonour." I always used to wonder, Hey, exactly how much dishonour are we talking about here? 'Cause I could handle quite a lot. I would, for instance, fellate a Smurf before I picked death. I'd cook him a little Smurf omelette as I was doing it, you know, I'd be perfectly happy doing that. Seasoning it with thyme, you know, listening to his happy satisfied Smurf lip smacks. But every man thinks about Smurfs. They don't say it, but they do. That's why I'm here—to be honest. Just once, you know, what would it be like? Nobody needs to know, you go away for the weekend. Just once, to have the blue salty bulb lolling on your tongue... if I don't say it, nobody else will."