I was sat at the bottom of the garden a week ago, smoking a reflective cheroot, thinking about this and that - mostly that, and I just happened to glance at the night sky and I marvelled at the millions of stars glistening like pieces of quicksilver thrown carelessly onto black velvet. In awe I watched the waxen moon ride across the zenith of the heavens like an amber chariot towards the void of infinite space wherein the tethered bolts of Jupiter and Mars hang forever in their orbital majesty; and as I looked at all this, I thought, 'I must put a roof on this lavatory.

I took the wife's family out for tea biscuits. They weren't too happy about having to give blood though.

How can you analyse what is funny? What's funny to one isn't funny to another... What's funny to you is a personal thing.

He had ambitions, at one time, to become a sex maniac, but he failed his practical.

My mother-in-law has so many wrinkles, when she smiles she looks like a Venetian blind.

I discovered the wife's got asthma. Thank God - I thought she was hissing at me.

Everyone has a family tree; the Dawsons have one, it's a weeping willow.