All Quotes By Tag: Humour

“Dying’s a fearful popular activity these days so we often double ’em up.”

“Graham Chapman, co-author of the “Parrot Sketch”, is no more. He has ceased to be. Bereft of life, he rests in peace. He’s kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last, and gone to meet the great Head of Light Entertainment in the sky. And I guess that we’re all thinking how sad it is that a man of such talent, of such capability for kindness, of such unusual intelligence, should now so suddenly be spirited away at the age of only forty-eight, before he’d achieved many of the things of which he was capable, and before he’d had enough fun. Well, I feel that I should say: nonsense. Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard, I hope he fries. And the reason I feel I should say this is he would never forgive me if I didn’t, if I threw away this glorious opportunity to shock you all on his behalf. Anything for him but mindless good taste. (He paused, then claimed that Chapman had whipered in his ear while he was writing the speech):All right, Cleese. You say you’re very proud of being the very first person ever to say ‘shit’ on British television. If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to become the first person ever at a British memorial service to say ‘fuck’.”

“Memang sulit menulis puisi. Dan untuk apa mempersulit diri sendiri.”

“..the nuclear family from across the street, which, as a result of decay, truly did have 2.5 kids;”

“It was said that life was cheap in Ankh-Morpork. This was of course, completely wrong. Life was often very expensive; you could get death for free.”

“Higgledy piggledy, my black hen,She lays eggs for gentlemen.Gentlemen come every dayTo count what my black hen doth lay.If perchance she lays too many,They fine my hen a pretty penny;If perchance she fails to lay,The gentlemen a bonus pay.Mumbledy pumbledy, my red cow,She’s cooperating now.At first she didn’t understandThat milk production must be planned;She didn’t understand at firstShe either had to plan or burst,But now the government reportsShe’s giving pints instead of quarts.Fiddle de dee, my next-door neighbors,They are giggling at their labors.First they plant the tiny seed,Then they water, then they weed,Then they hoe and prune and lop,They they raise a record crop,Then they laugh their sides asunder,And plow the whole caboodle under.Abracadabra, thus we learnThe more you create, the less you earn.The less you earn, the more you’re given,The less you lead, the more you’re driven,The more destroyed, the more they feed,The more you pay, the more they need,The more you earn, the less you keep,And now I lay me down to sleep.I pray the Lord my soul to takeIf the tax-collector hasn’t got it before I wake.”

“I looked at the stained-glass image of the lamb in the window above me, but that only reminded me that lambs are famous for being led to slaughter, or sometimes hanging out with lions in ill-advised relationships.”

“Oh! That was poetry!” said Pippin. “Do you really mean to start before the break of day?”

“For 3 million you could give everyone in Scotland a shovel, and we could dig a hole so deep we could hand her over to Satan in person. (on Margaret Thatcher)”

“Well… Emmett is real, and I’ve just broken up with Cadence.”

“Tom, how many children do you think I have to have before I figure out you get them by having sex?””Of course there would be protection,” he offered.”Tons of it.”

“Tom. Tom, look at me. Has Nora agreed to marry you?””No, but she will because she has to.”

“I am not sleeping with you.””We could probably manage it, though. Without getting too involved.””No,” she said.”But why? I mean, if we’re trusted friends? And it doesn’t interfere with our responsibilities?””Did that line ever actually work for you?””I can’t remember. But it probably did-it’s brilliant.”

“He took the pen and book from her and faltered.“Just write anything – anything trivial that won’t matter if it comes to pass.”“Erm…” God, he was useless at this.Elena’s hair turned blue.“Hey!”“What?”“I don’t want blue hair! What the hell did you write that for?”“It seemed trivial.”“Blue hair – blue? That’s trivial? What if I can’t undo it?”Karl stared at her blankly. His throat went dry. He felt like a total dickhead, but writing really wasn’t his strong point, so he went for humour instead and flashed her a grin.“I was going to write that all your clothes fall off, but figured you may have a problem with that. This was the second thing that came to mind.”(Karl and Elena)”

“Maybe we could, um, go sit in the truck?” he said, but even as he said it, it sounded so dumb. And not exactly the way he wanted her to remember a marriage proposal.”