I’m not worried about the Third World War. That’s the Third World’s Problem.
It’s so clear cut with a comedian – you have that reflex action, whereby you laugh or you don’t. And so you either love us or you simply cannot see why people are laughing.
There’s things that I couldn’t joke about but other people could.
You go, well you can’t joke about race. Well if you’re from a different race and that’s your experience of the world and you want to talk about that, then fine. Or you can’t talk about disability, but disabled comics can talk about that.
Yes, I have this crazy honk of a laugh.
You never want to be the grumpy guy, although I do have quite a grumpy face.
It is such a social thing, laughing. Two thousand people in a room laughing is such a great buzz and they tend to laugh much more in a group.
Like most of the world’s population I’m into coffee, my perfect weekend would start with a pint of coffee.
I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I lost my religious faith and ‘manned up’ in the same year. I was described somewhere as a lapsed Catholic, which is funny because I’m not going back! I want to achieve things rather than live life in an animalistic way.
If we’re all God’s children, what’s so special about Jesus?
After a gig I always head back to the hotel, remembering granny’s words of wisdom. I cancel the late-night pizza and watch the Jonathan Ross show instead.
I’m obsessed with TV. How wrong our parents were when they said we should only watch an hour a day. Stop wasting your time reading books.
I saw a charity appeal in the Guardian the other day, and it read “Little Zuki has to walk 13 miles a day just to fetch water”. And I couldn’t help thinking, she should move.
Eighteen years since the Chernobyl disaster. Is it just me surprized? Still no superheroes!
Let’s face it, the gene pool needs a little chlorine.
I think that comedians, more than any other type of celebrity, have to keep their humour and keep their feet on the ground. If they start taking themselves too seriously, they’re heading for a fall.
I love those people who do story-telling and who ramble on, but I don’t do that, I tell jokes – the sort of jokes that anyone really could tell in the pub.
But what’s true about comedians is that we’ve all got a huge hole in our personality. In a room of 3,000 people, we’re the one person facing in the opposite direction – yet we have this overwhelming desire to be liked.
If I’m at home for the weekend – and that is almost never – I tend to get twitchy at about eight o’clock in the evening because my body clock is timed to go on stage. I don’t know what to do with myself.
I worry about my nan. If she’s alone and falls, does she make a noise? I’m joking, she’s dead.