How to defend yourself against a banana - John Cleese

Put simply, you can’t ask your unconscious a question, and expect a direct answer — a neat, tidy little verbal message.

And it was this location that provides my second memory. (It must come after the first because in it I am now standing up.) I was bitten by a rabbit. Or rather, I was nibbled by a rabbit, but, because I was such a weedy, namby-pamby little pansy, I reacted as though I’d lost a limb. It was the sheer unfairness of it all that so upset me. One minute, I was saying, ‘Hello, Mr Bunny!’ and smiling at its sweet little face and funny floppy ears. The next, the fucker savaged me. It seemed so gratuitous. What, I asked myself, had I done to the rabbit to deserve this psychotic response?

Graham always used to say that I was shocked when he came out. That implies some sort of moral objection. Untrue. I was not ‘shocked’, I was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very surprised.