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… - Russell Brand

[On a fabricated tabloid story]
The Neptunian underworld king unleashed a barrage of eels from his abdomen and each of the eels was carrying a zippo lighter and as they flew by they spelt across the sky in fire 'Tara can a borrow your eyeliner please?' If you're gonna make stuff up go mental!

Noel Gallagher looks like a mum's mate.

The awareness that is not prickled and tugged by capricious emotion. The awareness that is aware that it is aware. In meditation I access it; in yoga I feel it; on drugs it hit me like a hammer—at sixteen, staring into a bathroom mirror on LSD, contrary to instruction ("Don’t look in the mirror, Russ, it’ll fuck your head up." Mental note: "Look in mirror."). I saw that my face wasn’t my face at all but a face that I lived behind and was welded to by a billion nerves. I looked into my eyes and saw that there was something looking back at me that was not me, not what I’d taken to be me. The unrefined ocean beyond the shallow pool was cascading through the mirror back at me. Nature looking at nature. Not me, little ol’ Russ, tossed about on turbulent seas; these distinctions were engineered. On acid, these realizations are absolute. The disobedient brain is whipped into its basket like a yapping hound cowed by Cesar Millan.