Bill Bailey
British musician and comedian.
Marijuana? It's harmless really, unless you fashion it into a club and beat somebody over the head with it.
'Beards' (track 12) 5:29
God, I'm in the same studio as de Burgh! He may have stood right where I'm standing now... and just thought his mad thoughts. Like "I am brilliant."
C'est lui, dans la nuit- Docteur Qui
Il voyage dans le Tardis. La boite de telephone fantastique d'espace!
L'interieur est beaucoup plus grand que l'exterieur
Et ça, c'est le mystere de Docteur Qui
L'enemie, il s'appele Davros, le capitain des Daleks
Il est demi-Dalek et demi-homme- incroyable!
Il veut contrôler le monde, toujours contrôler le monde
Il se leve le matin, il veut contrôler le monde!
Apres le petit-dejeuner, il veut contrôler le monde!
Mais il ne contrôle le monde jamais! Ce n'est pas tres realistique
Avec les Daleks, le Docteur est superieur.
"Exterminez-vous! Exterminez-vous encore! Ah, zut alors! Nous sommes perdus!"
Le docteur gagne, il rit 'Ha, ha, ha- j'ai gagné parce que je suis Docteur Qui
You knew exactly who the good guys were and who were the bad guys just by the chord: the good guys got a perfect fifth - strong, compassionate - the bad guys got an augmented fourth... Just a semitone, but sometimes in life when you make the wrong choices, it's just a semitone out.
And the thing is, I'm amazed they went with Obama at all, you know, I mean, I thought Hilary would have been a shoo-in, but no. [Shrugs] Apparently America's got an issue with gender, not with race. Huh. So, erm...
Anyway, beards and drugs leads me neatly to the Taliban; were they really that backward, or were they the finest minds of the fourteenth century? Nobody seems to know or care. That ideology was never going to work, was it? It was just cobbled together from different beliefs: The anti-intellectualism of the Khmer Rouge, the religious persecution of the Nazis, the enforced beard-wearing from the world of folk music, and the segregation and humiliation of women from the world of golf.
"I texted you on a Monday,
But you did not get my text 'till the Tuesday,
Because of a network problem.
I texted you on a Wednesday,
But I did not know that you'd called
Because your SIM card was not correctly installed.
Oh no no no.
You texted me on a Thursday
To say that you would meet me at the Shopping Centre
And i texted you back and said
"Where should i meet you?"
And you said Dixons
But i did not know which Dixons you meant
Was it the one inside the door
Or was it the one further up by Currys
These are my worries.
You texted me on a Monday
To tell me it was over
But i did not understand
Because you used Predictive Text
And it was Jrrg gruuh nnmmg guu hmmg doo doo doo".
There’s this one celebrity, Rosie O’Donnell, a talk show host, and she said this: “I don’t know anything about Afghanistan, but I know it’s full of terrorists, speaking as a mother.” So what is this "speaking as a mother" then? Is that a euphemism for "talking out of my arse"? "Suspending rational thought for a moment"? As a rational human being, Al-Qaeda are a loose association of psychopathic zealots who could be rounded up with a sustained police investigation. But speaking as a parent, they’re all eight foot tall, they’ve got lasers under their moustaches, a huge eye in their foreheads and the only way to kill them is to NUKE every country that hasn’t sent us a Christmas card in the the last 20 years!! "Speaking as a mother".
They will take us
And they'll make us
Human slaves! In an Insect Nation!
[responding to scattered audience applause] Ah, lovely: the ripple, the ripple there. That's nearly the Zen clap of acceptance there, wasn't it?
This is a song inspired by the work of Phil Collins; the nasty, whining little git.
Ch. 36, 1:18:46
Tonight's show is about doubt. Or maybe it isn't - haven't made my mind up yet.
Three blokes go into a pub. Well, I say three; could be four or five. Could be nine or ten, doesn't matter. Could have been fifteen, twenty - fifty. Round it up. Hundred. Let's go mad, eh - two-fifty. Tell you what, double it up - five hundred. Thousand! Oh, I've gone mad! Two thousand! Five thousand! (adopting auctioneer persona) Anyone? Five thousand, six thou, six thousand, ten thousand! Small town in Hertfordshire goes into a pub! Fifteen thousand blokes! Alright, let's go - population of Rotterdam. The Hague. Whole of Northern Holland. Mainland U.K. Let's go all the way to the top - Europe, alright? Whole of Europe goes - I say Europe. Could be Eurasia. Not the band, obviously, that's just two of them. Alright, continents - North America! Plus South America! Plus Antartica - that's just eight blokes in a weather station. Not a good example. Alright, make it a lot simpler, all the blokes on the planet go into the pub, right? And the first bloke goes up to the bar and he says "I'll get these in." What an idiot!
There is one language I can't understand, because it's from another planet, another dimension - that is the language of dentists. They speak in some kind of code, it's quite disturbing and sinister. They'll talk to you perfectly normally. You'll be sitting there like that [[simulates someone sitting on a dentists' couch with some kind of dental equipment in mouth) and they'll look down at you. 'Everything alright?' 'Yes, thank you very much'. Then, they'll turn to their assistant, and it all changes then, doesn't it? 'Jane. Some four. Some nine over the two. Mix me up some kraal (mimes antlers) over the ma-ma-ma-ma (does something strange with hands) Cheese. Go. Im. Shh. Nuhnuhnuhnuhnuh.' (in chair, frightened expression) 'What?' 'Seek out the chalky dust of the love-salmon' (in chair, confused expression) 'What?' Well, obviously, they can't refer to the instruments as they appear to us, otherwise we'd be out of the chair in a trice, wouldn't we? 'Jane, The Claw.' (in chair, terrified expression) 'Hand me The Colonel! The Punisher! The Talons of Saloth Sar!' Just to let them know I'm onto them I always freak them out right back - they look down and say 'Everything alright?' and I look up and I say (in chair, psychotic voice) 'The pheasant has no agenda'.
Ch. 23, 51:53
But we won't have any genetically modified food, oooh no, we won't have any GM. Which is a shame, I think we've missed a trick there. We could develop wheat with the properties of Velcro... to catch whatever it is that's forming those crop circles! But then the spaceship would have to have the corresponding Velcro, so it's a bit of a long shot.
When I was a child, I was terrified by this. (plays theme from The Magic Roundabout) It was very sinister, wasn't it? It just went on and on, like Dante's seventh circle of Hell. I recently found out there was a secret middle section deemed unsuitable for small children. There's about four hours of this, then it all starts to go a bit weird.
(plays discordant music)
(Booming echoing voice) I am Zebedee, lord of the woods! Bow down snail, I have dominion!
Ch. 38, 1:24:37
Arbroath; it was the scariest heckle I ever had. Arbroath, I don't know if you've ever been - very very cold throughout the year, and I was pacing up and down, primarily to keep warm really, I was freezing. And this chilling voice came from the back of the room, it just said "Stand still"... [mimes holding a rifle]
Ch. 4, 08:18
I'm English, and as such I crave disappointment. That's why I buy Kinder Surprise. Horrible chocolate; nasty little toy: a double-whammy of disillusionment! Sometimes I eat the toy out of sheer despair. I call them the Eggs Of Numbing Inevitability. And when I buy them, I always ask for them in the third person: "Bill Bailey would like the Eggs Of Numbing Inevitability." I did that the other day and it answered me back, and he said to me: "No, I am Bill Bailey. You are not Bill Bailey, you are just a mere doppelgänger. I am the true Bill Bailey, in another dimension." And I went, "Oh, I hadn't planned on that." Then I thought the only way to solve this, I have to run at my doppelgänger, then we will be fused forever. So I ran full-tilt at it, and just before I got there I realised it was the highly polished side of the cheese counter.
Ch. 12, 21:57
It's what we've always known for many years outside of Australia...You can't have a world leader called Kevin. [On Kevin Rudd]
(after Phil Jupittus had insulted Michael Jackson, and David Gest had said 'be nice!') Aw, be nice to the baby-dangling freak.