My Gran said put a thimble on your finger and it helps you in case you slip with the needle and it goes up, into the brain, and death.

I am encyclopaedic on World War II. My dad took me to D-Day beaches when I was a kid. I was there four years ago - every five years they have a remembrance on D-Day beaches and I would have liked to have been there and done my bit.

That's no good, I can't steal from the fairly well off and give to the moderately impoverished! That's not gonna swing, is it?

I wanna live 'til I die, no more, no less.

Makeup's just crazy, anyways. Native Americans used to wear it, and it did all right for them until, uh ... well, until you killed them all, I suppose.

Someone's killed 100,000 people. We're almost going, "Well done! You killed 100,000 people? You must get up very early in the morning! I can't even get down the gym. Your diary must look odd: 'Get up in the morning, death, death, death, death, death, death, death - lunch - death, death, death - afternoon tea - death, death, death - quick shower ...' "

"I've done your dog. It's got nine eyes down the side, I made his head all square, 15 legs. What do you think of that?" "Fido looks a bit weird."