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Chaser's was crazy last night. I've seen crazier, though. Still not crazy enough for the Brent-Meister General. |
Sexism. I hate that. |
It's all that now, innit? |
Speaking of Finchy, bloody good rep. |
Finchy just got here. |
The richest man in America must be named Owner. Just drive down any-street USA and it's likely you'll see the sign: For Sale by Owner. |
Thirty, yeah... About that. |
Yes I can sing and I do in fact have a goatee beard. |
Smells like spring. I think I will allow a woman to fall in love with me. |
Voice lessons. Giving them. |
Would I rather be thought of as a funny man or a great boss? To me, they're not mutually exclusive. |
Hospice is a compound word: Ho. Spice. |
I've always reminded myself of Fred Astaire. |
Katharine McPhee's debut album is forgettable. It's a shame what the American marketing machine did to her. |
Think "Name That Tune" only with food, not songs. "I can eat that in six bites." "I can eat that in five bites." "Okay, then EAT THAT SHIT!" |
Still getting recognized on the street. This kind of attention would kill the common man. But I'm a chilled-out entertainer so... |
"Fool me once, strike one. Fool me twice, strike three." I've always said that. |
Developing a new idea for a gameshow. Brilliant. BBC, return my calls if you like money. |
You're all drunkards! Every last one of you! Warning: Hypocrite alert. |
Off to Chaser's. I'm sure I'll see you there. Pints on me. |
