Apparently, one in five people in the world are Chinese. And there are five people in my family, so it must be one of them. It's either my mum or my dad. Or my older brother, Colin. Or my younger brother, Ho-Chan-Chu. But I think it's Colin.

This policeman came up to me with a pencil and a piece of very thin paper. He said, "I want you to trace someone for me."

I sit in places like Costa Coffee in Banstead and write rubbish. I need a deadline. I think about the 44 tour dates and keep imagining standing in front of all these people. Then every day I write 15 jokes minimum.

So I went down the local supermarket, I said "I want to make a complaint, this vinegar's got lumps in it", he said "Those are pickled onions".

My house is a bit like a teenager's bedroom. The kind of pictures you have hanging up on your wall say a lot about you. I've got ones of Evel Knievel, Elvis and Starsky and Hutch, signed by David Soul.

I was in this restaurant and I asked for something herby. They gave me a Volkswagen with no driver.

I'll tell you what makes my blood boil?... Crematoriums.