You see, most modern technology doesn't work. It's supposed to free you, but it's a terrible trap, of course. Mobile phones for example: everybody ha… - Dylan Moran

I apologise for even bringing this up, but it is two thousand and something, whatever it is, and it is still very difficult to have a rational conversation about periods.. to a woman.. when it could be relevant. You see I’m almost instinctively euphemistic about it, I don’t want to get into trouble even here! I only realised recently I’ve been having the same kind of polite conversation all my life, where you say to somebody: “..Hmm?.. You don’t - you don’t want to go to the restaurant, that we said we’d..? No, me neither. And you don’t want to go to the other place I’m about to suggest- me neither! Or any of the places I can think of, I hate them all as well. But listen, the thing is, when we do find somewhere, and I’m sure we will cause you’re starving, I know that, you’ve said it several times; when we get there, I’m actually not that worried about food myself. Main thing for me is, when we get in there, could you run over some of my flaws? Cause you know, I just can’t keep track! I don’t know what it is, if you weren’t here, really I’d be fucked, I really would.” I don’t do that shit anymore. I just say: “Listen, listen.. Are you having your period? Cause you know what, it’s humiliating to argue with a hormone. And I know you’re crying and everything, but you know what, I quite fancy a cry too, I really do. You’ve kind of stolen the show and the waiter’s coming over now but I really would like to cry as well. By the way, crying isn’t proof of a greater capacity to feel, it’s proof of a greater capacity to cry. And I’m not paying for this, fuck you.”

My ideal body, you know, would be just probably something like, ahm... One eye, you probably only need one. A kind of sucker thing instead of teeth, because they just give you grief in the end, you know. And a long, long tube with my arse way over there so I don't have to deal with it. That would be ideal.

The first half of your life is spent getting over yourself. You think you’re amazing, unique. Young people walk around going, "You know the funny thing is I was just in the kitchen but now I’m here in the bedroom, get a load of me! I just go on and on!" And that’s around the age when you meet somebody else – when you’re totally unbearable. Two young, fit, healthy attractive people in love? There’s nothing worse to look at in the world! Going around going, "I can’t believe I met you cause you’re amazing and I’m amazing and we’re surrounded by shitheads, it’s just amazing! Hey, I know this really good bar, let’s go and make it better." In the second half of your life you realise how like every other hump who drew breath you really are. Except you’re MORE boring.