I am actually walking towards the biscuit, I didn't realise I was, but now I do, oh oh oh I am actually eating the biscuit...oh no, oh the shame, oh … - Dylan Moran

You're talking to a modern, nice, affable German person and they're saying to you something like 'You know, vell, it's a critical time now for Germany within Europe, also globally, economically ve are pretty good, ve have been better. But ve are very vibrant in the theater and arts...' and all the time you'll be listening to this, you're thinking Mmm, yeah, mmm... Hitler, Hitler, Hitler, Hitler, Hitler...

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.”

Arnold Schwarzenegger is the governor of California. There's a perfectly ordinary English sentence. How did that happen!? Do you know how that happened? 'Cause I'll tell you. Do you know how he got into that position? He got there... by lifting things. Now, you and me, we avoid lifting things; It's unpleasant. Especially heavy things. Even a five-year-old child knows this. He'll go "No, ha ha, fuck it, no, I'll go and stick Lego up my arse, I'm not doing that, no no." He took a different approach. He lifted the heavy- and you know, you lift something if you have to. Piano falls on granny, you lift the piano… 'cause Granny has mixed feelings about the whole situation. Sunday lunch continues. He didn't do any of that. He went over to the heavy thing, and lifted it, and put it back down and didn't move it anywhere... and then he did it again, hundreds of times, and he said to people who stopped to observe this aberrant behaviour, "Look how good I am... at lifting the heavy thing, in my underpants." Now that may seem a little dim. But it was they who said "You're the man. You're the one we want to deal with immigration, and water rates, and taxes, and all that kinda shit." But wait—what we need to know is, how bad was his predecessor at that job? This must've been someone who came to work covered in children's blood every morning.