God damn X-Entertainment. God damn it for being so god damn interesting that I'd rather sit reading their god damn articles when I should be doing some god damn work. God damn them. God damn the doctor for putting me on these god damn pills that make me god damn drowsy and fucked up all god damn morning. God damn everything. Then god damn god damning. (18 August 2004)

He and his tyrannicide! I am in a mad fury about these explosions. If that is the new world! Damn O'Donovan Rossa; damn him behind and before, above, below, and roundabout; damn, deracinate, and destroy him, root and branch, self and company, world without end. Amen. I write that for sport if you like, but I will pray in earnest, O Lord, if you cannot convert, kindly delete him!

He and his tyrannicide! I am in a mad fury about these explosions. If that is the new world! Damn O'Donovan Rossa; damn him behind and before, above, below, and roundabout; damn, deracinate, and destroy him, root and branch, self and company, world without end. Amen. I write that for sport if you like, but I will pray in earnest, O Lord, if you cannot convert, kindly delete him!

I'm ready to kill people, I'm sick of this. Not literally. The point is I'm getting sick of this crap. Let's just give all our kids to the child molesters, goddammit! Excuse me. You know, I'm not saying Lord's name in vain, I want these people damned to hell! I'm literally praying, God, damn them to Hell! That's not the Lord's name in vain! I mean that! I don't take God in vain [sic] but we ought to have a prayer called the Goddamnit Prayer! God damn them to hell, please! You think Charlton Heston in Planet of the Apes, when he realizes this is Earth and all his family died 10,000 years before and he's come back through a wormhole, and everybody he knows is dead and he's saying, God damn them to Hell! You bastards! You blew it all up! God damn you! He's not taking lords name in vein! He's saying God damn them! God damn them! God damn them! God fucking damn them to Hell!

"Graham Chapman, co-author of the "Parrot Sketch", is no more. He has ceased to be. Bereft of life, he rests in peace. He's kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last, and gone to meet the great Head of Light Entertainment in the sky. And I guess that we're all thinking how sad it is that a man of such talent, of such capability for kindness, of such unusual intelligence, should now so suddenly be spirited away at the age of only forty-eight, before he'd achieved many of the things of which he was capable, and before he'd had enough fun. Well, I feel that I should say: nonsense. Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard, I hope he fries. And the reason I feel I should say this is he would never forgive me if I didn't, if I threw away this glorious opportunity to shock you all on his behalf. Anything for him but mindless good taste.
(He paused, then claimed that Chapman had whipered in his ear while he was writing the speech):
All right, Cleese. You say you're very proud of being the very first person ever to say 'shit' on British television. If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to become the first person ever at a British memorial service to say 'fuck'."

"Blast your soul, you hussy!" he exclaimed in exasperation.

Damn the Absolute!

The things that were said about me. … You know what, I wanted to hit a couple of those speakers so hard. ... I was gonna hit one guy in particular, a very little guy. I was gonna hit this guy so hard, his head would spin. He wouldn't know what the hell happened.

I spit upon your God!

My God, you big dark handsome brute! I ought to throw a Buick at you.