Who’s the more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him?
Sixty-four thousand dollars for a question, I hope they are asking you the meaning of life.
M-hmm. Well, it’s nothing very special. Uh, try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations. And, finally, here are some completely gratuitous pictures of penises to annoy the censors and to hopefully spark some sort of controversy, which, it seems, is the only way, these days, to get the jaded, video-sated public off their fucking arses and back in the sodding cinema. Family entertainment? Bollocks. What they want is filth: people doing things to each other with chainsaws during Tupperware parties, babysitters being stabbed with knitting needles by gay presidential candidates, vigilante groups strangling chickens, armed bands of theatre critics exterminating mutant goats. Where’s the fun in pictures? Oh, well, there we are. Here’s the theme music. Goodnight.
I do wish we could chat longer, but… I’m having an old friend for dinner. Bye.
Now I guess I’ll go in and piss on the fish.
Touch his dick, and he’s dead!
If you die, I’ll kill you!
Hello, hero.
No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die.
“Were you ever scared?”
“Yes, sir. Up to and including now.”
Was I scared? You’re talking to a man who laughed at death, sneered at danger, and chuckled at catastrophe. I was terrified.
Do you know why you’re afraid when you’re alone? I do. I do.
I’ve always known I’ll die alone.
We belong dead.
Life is funny… it’s hard. But it’s also strange, how things can be so different than you think.
Dying easy. Comedy is hard.
So a guy goes into a, uh, into a talent agent and he says, “Hey, dude, check it out, I got a great act!” And he’s like, “It’s not a fuckin’ prop act, is it?”
“…the Aristocrats!”
“All of London is talking.”
“Oh, let them talk!”
Why can’t the English speak English?