Stand Up Comedians

"I'm waiting for something worth waiting for."

"What about the rumours David Cameron smoked drugs as a schoolboy? What worries me most is that he dressed up as a schoolboy to do it, the pervert. Though perhaps, let’s not condemn him regardless. Who among us didn’t smoke just a little bit of weed at school, just to take the edge off those irksome crack come-downs? Actually, as it turns out, it’s about as good an anti-drugs campaign as you’re going to get, don’t take drugs you might end up leader of the Tories with a face like a little painted egg."

"Let's send actual love to Robbie Williams. Get well England's Rose. One day at a time old bean. Ooh, those bloody drugs!"

"I emerged from the womb, right, I was wearing a top hat and I had a cane and said: 'Mother, that was an awkward and embarrassing birth. You should be ashamed of yourself dear. Now pull your nightie down; that doctor looks salacious.' Then I trotted off outside, met up with Kenneth Williams and we both had tea, and we looked down at our dinkles with disgust."

"When asked what he puts on his hair: "Mostly orphans' tears, old clock parts, lizard's tails, spit, the concept of freedom; all up there, all shooshed up right nice and tight, like a bonfire that's never actually burned... it mutters follicular oddities into my mind.""

"Could you imagine a wand that was not camp? Could you imagine, for example, Ray Winstone, with a wand? (Impersonating him) 'RIGHT OK. IT'S A KIND OF MAGIC, SIT DOWN.'"

"If that's a euphemism - an egg and spoon race, - I'm probably gold medal class."

"In an infinite universe; eternal time, why just do what people tell you? 'ave a laugh; do what you want."

"If you're going to use 'theatrical' and 'bent' in such close proximity, you're going to give people the wrong impression."

"so when I was staying with him, he went 'alright, okay, so what time do you go to bed then?' and I thought 'fucking hell! he doesn't know what he's doing!! SHIIIIIIT!!' I went 'oooh, about, 10 oclock?', 'ah yeah, alright then'. YEEEES!! it's like the same feeling that as an adult I would get walking through customs with heroin in my bottom. 'I'm getting away with iiiiit!"

"You'd think, if you was me, you would think this and I am me, so I'm in a perfect position to offer conclusive evidence on that... innit like when you go away on holiday, you think 'oh yeah, I'd better go away on holiday, cheer myself up, get away from it all" but when you go on holiday, you're there, so it's shit!"

"So by being offended you've sorta acknowledged that you are thick, and none of us are, so we're all back on speaking terms!"

"I kat you?"

"Should we stick with the Goth Detectives from when we won last year? Where's our trophy?"

"We don't get telly round our way, sir"! "Yeah, we hang you buggers round our way, we do"… "No, we all came on the same coach, sir"… "Norwich, that's us, sir." There's a bloke on the fifth row going "You're gonna die now, sir, you are!"

"What happened to all the family butchers? People complain there's no family butchers around anymore. Well, they're fucking mad! It's the only shop in the high street where you walk in and some bloke's covered in blood, mutilating an animal! Before you walk in, they're like that: "Grrr, GAAAH, FUCKING-" [imitates chopping motions] Soon as you walk in they're, like, "Good morning, how are you? Okay, goodbye!" You ever seen them unloading the delivery van, the freezer lorry? They get out a side of cow. Where's the other side? Is there, like, a cow still grazing in a field with a fucking side missing?"

"You know, you get these people that are, like, "Here, I was talking to her on Monday... Was it Tuesday? Was it Thurs-?" "Who cares? Just tell me what they fucking said!" I hate them fuckers! They say stuff like, "Feels like a Tuesday. Does it feel like a Tuesday? Yeah, feels like a Tuesday." I don't know! How the fuck does Tuesday feel? They're like, "It's half past five, but it only feels like twelve." Fucking hell, do these people forget to go to bed because they already think they're asleep?"

"You ever get lost with your wife in the car? You're completely lost, and they always say the same thing: "Oh, let's just go home. WE'RE FUCKING LOST!" "What, did you throw bread out the fucking window?""

"It's like unison, "Welcome to speech therapy, all together!"..."NAOOOOOOOOOOOWWW!""

"I love restaurants. And that's the thing now, they always boast about now, restaurants: "Proper home-made cooking." I don't want home-made cooking. That's why I'm here, 'cos I don't like the shit at home! Yeah... you know! And they don't say whose home it is, do they! Could be a mental home, couldn't it!"

"This bloke, I swear he's in any supermarket car park. He's great. He walks across the car park, and he's got one of those fobs, and he opens his car before he gets there. [posh voice] "Ha, ha, ha! I don't know if you saw what I just did there, but I actually opened my car door before I actually physically got there!""

"[About doctors] And they say, they always say the same thing. They say "Your appointment is at four," and it's never at four! You go down there at four and you have to wait in that waiting room with all the coughers for another bloody hour. You know when that doctor comes out at five, and he'll say, "I'll see you now." "No, you fuckin' won't! I've got a few more posters to read yet! Sit the fuck down!""

"My phone will ring at three in the morning, and my wife'll look at me and go "Who's that calling at this time?" I don't fucking know! If I knew that, we wouldn't need the bloody phone!"

"All blokes get to that stage when they get bigger than their dad, like fourteen/fifteen, and he can't hit you no more. And he's, like, "Go to your room!" And you're, like, [high-pitched voice] "Nah! Fucking nah, Dad! [imitates smoking] Things are gonna change around 'ere." Now he didn't hit me, but it took a team of surgeons to remove that fag from my arse."

"I said to my wife "If I ever get like that, ya know, mumbling to myself and shitting my pants, shoot me." She said "Fucking run, monkey boy!""

"Someone walked up to me the other day and went "Excuse me... Can you show me where the station is, please?" I said "Yes, officer, if you just...""

"Jed Exodus, sounds like he's gonna go get changed in a phone box [heroic American accent] "WATCH OUT FOR JED EXODUS... I AM THE PISSER... I CAN FILL A LOO IN NO TIME." That's where he's probably just gone now, out to prevent a crime. "HEY YOU, GET AWAY FROM THAT WOMAN AND STOP MUGGING HER." "All right mate, all right." "THERE YOU GO, MADAM, YOU CAN GO ON YOUR WAY, PISS, PISS, PISS, PISS, PISS, PISS, PISS.""

"TGI Friday's, American style restaurant. Well, they're mental, they're mental. I dunno. It's American, "Have a nice day" and everything. So I go in, sit in a booth. This bloke comes out of the kitchen and went [in a high-pitched voice] "HI!" [imitates fireworks whistling] "Yes, you are, aren't you?" What are they on in there? They must be in the kitchen, going [imitates snorting cocaine] "HIGH! WHAT CAN I DO FER YOU?" "You can fuck off!" "HOW WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO FUCK OFF?" "With a punch up the neck, get out of it!" I've figured out a way to get them back: be the same as them, just before you go in, get yourself prepared and go like "HI!" They come round there, like, "H-... OH, MY GOD, THE SAME AS US!""

"The Happy Eater! They're miserable as fuck! You go in the Happy Eater, you'll see a woman behind the counter at the deep fat frier like this [sobs] "DON'T ASK FOR CHIPS! [sobs louder] I FUCKIN' HATE CHIPS!" "Chips with this, chips with that... chips with me an' all." I'll stick me head in the deep fat frier in a minute: "Chips with this, chips with that...""

"I don't come out on film. I get the red eye. Blokes like that: [imitates knocking someone out] "You fuckin' will in a minute, ya twat!""

"I was thinking to myself out there — well, you wouldn't think you're anybody else, would you?"

"They'll drop a cage into the water, and the shark'll be. like, "What you doin' down 'ere? What you fuckin' doin' down 'ere?" And they'll get a bit of meat on a stick and go "Oy! Wanker! Bleurgh!" And they’ll go "Oh, is that for me?" [pretends to shove meat in shark’s mouth] "You fuckin’...""

"My wife, she is a beautiful woman, but in labour she turned into fucking Jack Nicholson from The Shining. "You. You fucking did this to me!" "But I thought it was a shared experience" "No. You fucking did this!""

"Bees. They don't know they've even got a fuckin' sting. It's like buzzes, it's a twat with a shotgun!"

"Luv can we off off, not off off but fuck off."

"Some footballers earn a fortune. 30 grand, 40 grand, 90 grand a week, some of them. And then they say stuff in interviews like "I'm not really enjoying the football at the moment." Not enjoying the football? 90 grand a week? I'd be fucking delirious with it! I wouldn't just hug somebody for scoring a goal, I'd shag 'em."

"They're making us pay a fortune for electricity, ya know. They reckon we should save the planet, save electricity and all that sort of stuff. Oh, yeah, I'm loving this shit they're coming out with! You got the Chinese bellowing out shit for coal-fired power stations, the Americans are driving about in 4x4 Humvees, Las Vegas is lit up like a giant Christmas tree, but they reckon if I switch off this little standby button on my TV..."

"In those old hotels, everything creaks: Argh, argh, argh. Even the door: Argh! You can always hear the bloke above you moving around, and when it's three in the morning you turn into his wife: "That's the fourth time tonight. Go back to fucking bed!""

"Why are all the dogs at dog shows really nice dogs? You never see a pit bull with a ribbon 'round his head, going "If you say one fucking word...""

"People tell me, "Lee, you should take up golf. It's good for you." You know what I say to that? "Fuck off.""

"The post is all messed up! Remember when it was so easy? You posted a letter, the post office just went woof, and it was away. Not now, they're all differant companies. It's like Parcel Force! Parcel Force? "PARCEL FORCE! BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! PARCEL FORCE! BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! WE WILL GET THIS PACKAGE TO YOU!" Fuck off!"

"Our grandparents fucking ate anything put in front of them! Your granddad would say "What's for tea, love?" "Tripe!" "Oooooohh! Animal stomach lining for fucking tea, man!" They ate anything, fucking monkey's phlegm, orangutan's bollocks. I dunno, I'm just making them up now... chicken's quiff!... Bird's arse, ya know!"

"Clive Anderson: Don't give him the oxygen of publicity. Smith: I'm not that happy with him having the oxygen of oxygen, actually. He's been released to the - I must say - somewhat cryogenic embrace of Mary. He went forth - a big great snog - and she just swerved in a way that none of our English Cricket Team are able to do. The message was loud and clear. You've heard this many times from prostitutes, Jeffrey. No kissing!"

"You can look at any painting ever done of Jesus over the centuries, and you can spot immediately that he's not English, 'cos he's very often shown wearing sandals, but never with socks. I think that would be an English Messiah's look, wouldn't it? - socks, sandals, khaki shorts skimming the knee, little Fair Isle slipover - in case it turns, 'cos it's deceptive, the desert - and I think, instead of all that camp and rather beautiful 'Oh Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?' business - instead of all that - I think he'd be up there trying to make the best of it - 'cos moping doesn't help, does it? I think he'd be up there going, 'Cor, here's a pretty pickle. No, I didn't do it either, but you don't like to say, do you?'"

"[On Ainsley Harriott] I must admit, I tend to think - with Ainsley - if you're that happy, you haven't really understood the world. You see, I think that cheeriness is all very well. Beyond a certain point it becomes quite offensive. And how many versions of what is, basically, your dinner can Ainsley do? There must be executives stalking the corridors of White City, thinking 'We need a new idea for Ainsley. He's so jolly. What can we have? We've had him doing Can't Cook, Won't Cook, Ready Steady Cook, Barbecues. We need something new, different, edgy. How about this? We like this. Ainsley's Death-Row Dinners. Yes, the jolly chef tours the condemned man with a last supper to remember. We can have the recipes in the Radio Times - Ainsley's Humanely Fried Chicken, with a lethal injection of butter! - guaranteed to make the governor say 'Pardon'."

"So that's my home town, and I come from a perfectly ordinary working-class family; and in fact, I didn't really meet middle-class people until I went to university. It was quite a shock, really. People were saying things like 'Well, I was always going to end up doing English, because I was brought up surrounded by books - brought up in a house full of books'; and I'd think 'Yes, so was I; but they were full of Green Shield stamps'. I suppose we could have swapped them for books, but we had our eye on a twin-tub. I say ordinary, but there was one thing a little bit different about my family, in that my mum and dad were quite a bit older than people normally are when they start a family. And there was a downside to that, really. Well, for a start, all my friends' parents were just slightly older than them, and really trendy and dressed in cool clothes, and dropping them off at the bus and going 'Ciao!' I used to dream of 'Ciao!', because my mum's catchphrase on the bus was 'Thank you, driver'."

"I do admire Van Gogh - I do think he was one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived. He did some very silly things. Top of the list, famously – after a row with Gaugin - absolutely ripped to the tits on absinthe – girlfriend had left him – so, he chopped his ear off and sent it to her. Do you think she came back? Do you think that did the trick? Hasn't really caught on, has it? For a start, you wouldn't try that trick today with our post, would you? Six months later, she'd be saying 'Ooh! a sun-dried tomato!' And what was he thinking? What was this girl going to do? Open up this package, fish out this lug, and go 'Ooh, Vinny! I thought you were all mad and driven and weird and a loner, and our relationship was doomed, and you go and do a lovely thing like this. Ooh, you know how to get round me. I SAID, YOU KNOW HOW TO GET ROUND ME!'"

"[A]nd between this top-quality programming are the most miserable adverts in the world – former Mancunian top cop John Stalker trying to sell you sun awnings; trying to get you to blot out every ray of light from the world for those in the grip of manic depression – 'Hello, I'm John Stalker. Are you, like me, tired of the pitiless glare of an English summer; maddened by the relentless gaze of cruel Helios; sick of lurking in your house all summer long, like a mad bloke in a siege situation - such as I would have dealt with in my high-flying career? Well, suffer no longer. Install Gloom Master sun awnings - summer bang to rights!' Terrible! Then it all gets worse with those terrible loan adverts. These awful, tragic, hollow-eyed wraiths come on, telling you these awful stories - 'I'm up to my eyes in debt, and, curiously, no reputable company would give me another loan! Then I discovered Dodgy Bastards. They've given me a million pounds, and all they want in return are my kidneys.' No, don't do it! And then - worse than that - the accident insurance adverts - 'Where there's blame, there's a claim' - when people who've had these accidents come on like medieval beggars, and wave their stumps at you for money with these outlandish stories - 'I slipped on a banana skin and successfully sued the Dominican Republic...'"

"And the Tories now with their pitiful relaunch - oh, Michael Howard, we're supposed to have forgotten him from before, because he's had this Trinny & Susannah makeover; and you imagine them with him, saying, 'We think you'll like what we've done, Michael, just have a little look in the mirror - oh no, you can't really, can you? We've stitched you a lovely little shadow on - we think you'll really like that'... Ann Widdecombe's confused us all by going blonde - I was watching Question Time for half an hour, thinking Christ - Sue Barker's slapped on a bit of weight!"

"[T]he train system is so chronic now, that any journey you undertake by train in Britain is identical to the one taken by Omar Sharif in Doctor Zhivago; that's what it's like - the same drama and misery. Ancient, knackered rolling-stock limping painfully across the land, shuddering to a halt for no apparent reason, with the lights flickering on and off; everyone running up and down - 'What's going on? What's up ahead? I don't know... Is it Rod Steiger with the White Guard?' - desperate women in headscarves running alongside the carriages, throwing their babies into the train, shouting 'I'LL NEVER SEE PURLEY OAKS, BUT MY CHILD MIGHT!'"