Yes. Yes, when we live our life like 1950s detective films. I often go to my fridge, "Hullo, we're out of milk. I say mother, where's the milk?"

Three blind mice walk into a pub. But they are unaware of their surroundings, so to derive humour from it would be exploitative.

Live comedy's a very reckless, foolhardy profession. You're only as good as your last gig so earnings fluctuate.

I am a confectionery-based existentialist.

If you have enough money to be comfortable it makes life a lot easier and that's undeniable. But I think happiness is more elusive.

Without the beat in the background, Jazz basically sounds like an armadillo was let loose on the keyboard.

Of course, uh, the universe is gradually slowing down and, uh, will eventually collapse inwardly on itself, according to the laws of entropy when all it's thermal and mechanical functions fail, thus rendering all human endeavors ultimately pointless. Just to put the gig in some sort of context.