The thing is I'm very interested in bad taste, as anyone who's ever seen me perform or had dinner with me would know.

It's funny, in literature no one ever goes to the lavatory.

I was cutting and threading pipe in the tunnels to get water into the shower rooms for athletics. I was repairing old metal windows, fixing cement walls where rain was coming through, and drying out the maple gym floors in hopes of removing the warping.

It's the end. But the moment has been prepared for.

Some Christmas tree ornaments do more than glitter and glow, they represent a gift of love given a long time ago

I'm the only man in London that 'Don't talk to strange men' doesn't apply to.

One longs to be funny, to make people laugh. Laughter is such a sign of approval, isn't it?