I went to the doctor last week. I said: 'Can I have some sleeping pills for the wife?' He said: 'Why?' I said: 'She's woke up.

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 knew I'd chosen the wrong airline when I noticed the sick bag had the Lord's Prayer on it.

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.

Funny thing how you first meet the woman that you marry. I first met the wife in a tunnel of love. She was digging it.

I need to give affection and love, because without that, I wither. I need to give that love to someone. Without that, I'm rudderless.

I went to my doctor and asked for something for persistent wind. He gave me a kite.