I love England. In fact, they're getting to know me so well at Heathrow Immigration that this time I was able to completely bypass the six months rabies quarantine.

People come up to me... concerned... that I'll reproduce.

Writing jokes for others is like having babies for someone else. It's sad. Like the woman who gives up her baby but needs to be close so she secretly becomes the maid in the household.

I don't really hang out with people. I like to be by myself. In fact, I've been arrested a few times because I like to walk around at two or three in the morning, looking at shop windows. The cops take me to the station and fingerprint me. But I wouldn't call that hanging out.

I asked the head musician if I could go onstage during the next break and he said sure. I got two laughs in twenty minutes, and walked out feeling more elated than I had ever felt in my entire life. The glory of that triumph contented me for two full years.

I was sick of people making fun of my hair and so I cut it off and I've got much more attention than ever before. It was like when Mona Lisa was stolen from the Louvre in 1906 - three times more people came to see where it used to be.

I go from stool to stool in singles bars hoping to get lucky, but there's never any gum under any of them.