Don't Want To Turn Into Mini-me.

I've Got Soggy Thighs. It Must Be Dinner Time.

When, In 1966, I Progressed To The Frost Report, I Was Paid Ten Guineas A Minute. I Was Guaranteed Three Minutes A Week, So This Was Good Money.

I'm Not Careful With My Money At All These Days. I Buy People A Lot Of Dinners!

Everybody Has Their Own Free Choice To Do What They Want.

I Won't Read Scripts Because I Have A Limited Amount Of Time. Why Should I Help Other People Do Lame Stuff When I Can Just Go Out And Put On Lame Stuff Of My Own?