Comedy Quotes - Page 5

Our specialty was exasperated dignity and the discombombulation of Authority.

I put a chameleon on a red dildo... He blushed

Good man and bad man with money goes a long ways." ~ Amunhotep El Bey

People deceive themselves, or deceive each other, that is the origin of comedy.

Run. Flee. Fuck off. Vanish from my presence and take the foul stench of your sordid secret with you.

Poncho was in a red mood slanging with rage and needed to cook himself out of it , while shoving handfuls of salted peanuts down his gullet and slurping ice cold Fanta

It wasn’t enough that I had to worry about playing well and winning the game, but I also had to deal with possibility that one of my teammates could be dragged off the field by the inhabitants of the mental hospital.

He squinted at me. "What are you wearing? Is that some new form of birth control?

Aren't you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to take care of you?''There's the tree in the middle,' said the Rose:'what else is it good for?''But what could it do, if any danger came?' Alice asked.'It could bark,' said the Rose.

Speak English at this table or I will fire you so fast you'll wind up standing at the airport wondering how you got from here to there without any goddamn pants on.

It really seems to me that in the midst of great tragedy, there is always the horrible possibility that something terribly funny will happen.

If the sky falls, we shall catch larks./Když nebe padá , zjímáme skřivani.

So you want me to go to a human orgy, where I will not be welcome, and you want us to leave before I get to enjoy myself? ~Eric Northman

That was 1993 grunge in suburbia. This was 2003 hell in Harlem. (Dark City Lights)

I was a lazy reader as a kid. One nutrition label on a box of Cap’n Crunch and I’d have to take a nap.

Dostoyevsky described hell as perhaps nothing more than a room with a chair in it. This room has several chairs. A young man sits in one.

Support your partner in their interests. You never know when batting practice, kung fu movie moves, or even a poker night might come in handy during a zombie infestation.

Comedy is simply a funny way of being serious

I can write about all of these bizarre and funny characters in my book, "Diggin' Elroy," because I know them better than anyone else. I have a little bit of all of them in me.

I loved Monty Python for the wordplay--this sense that you didn’t have to squash your intelligence to be funny. In fact, you could walk right into your intelligence and nerdiness and self-doubt, and that could be funny.

Allegedly, allegedly I say, the R.G.A. were extremely miffed of portrait painted of their monarch, King Tingaling XX, by Master. Portrait apparently, as it’s yet t’be unveiled, depicts King Tingaling XX in rather compromisin’ position with a pineapple, a wad of cash and his favourite pig, Buttercup.

Says O'Sullivan to me, "Mr. Fay, I'll have a word wid yeh?" "Certainly," says I; "what can I do for you?" "Sell me your sea- boots, Mr. Fay," says O'Sullivan, polite as can be. "But what will you be wantin' of them?" says I. "'Twill be a great favour," says O'Sullivan. "But it's my only pair," says I; "and you have a pair of your own," says I. "Mr. Fay, I'll be needin' me own in bad weather," says O'Sullivan. "Besides," says I, "you have no money." "I'll pay for them when we pay off in Seattle," says O'Sullivan. "I'll not do it," says I; "besides, you're not tellin' me what you'll be doin' with them." "But I will tell yeh," says O'Sullivan; "I'm wantin' to throw 'em over the side." And with that I turns to walk away, but O'Sullivan says, very polite and seducin'-like, still a-stroppin' the razor, "Mr. Fay," says he, "will you kindly step this way an' have your throat cut?" And with that I knew my life was in danger, and I have come to make report to you, sir, that the man is a violent lunatic.

Applaud my friends, the comedy is over...[on his death bed]

This particular event had been somewhat more raucous than usual as Derek Jameson had just lost an arm wrestle with Ann Diamond. The match was the second semi-final of the morning after Belinda Carlisle had been pipped at the post by Rusty Lee. Carlisle had caused some consternation after, upset at losing and forfeiting the chance to compete for the first prize of a quarter of midget gems, she had spat port in Lee’s handbag. Carlisle had been asked to leave and, after a brief tussle, had been ejected from the building whilst screaming and spitting in Simon Parkin’s face.

The house in the story is based on my friend Tori's house in Kinsale, Ireland, which is obviously not actually haunted, and the sound of people upstairs moving wardrobes around when you are downstairs there and alone is probably just something that old houses do when they think they are unobserved.

It's far too easy to forget, miss or not appreciate the tiny things a partner does every single day, but should you wait until it's over or they've gone to miss who they were?

Who are you after?”“The snarky asshole one.”“Could you be a little more specific.”“The one who has a staff and throws their toys out of the pram that one.”“Ooh.”“Yeah.

Build mutual friendships. Just be ready to end them when your friends start trying to eat you.

One of the comics said he thought I was talented but wouldn't ever make it as a stand-up. It hurt. Looking back now, I can see clearly how experienced comics get bitter. It's a tough business, and often things don't work out the way you think they will. But rage and jealousy comics can feel for others' success is a highly toxic waste of time.

Kaz reached into his coat pocket. "Here," he said and handed Jesper a slender book with an elaborate cover."Are we going to read to each other?""Just flip it open to the back."Jesper opened the book and peered at the last page, puzzled. "So?""Hold it up so we don't have to look at your ugly face.""My face has character. Besides - oh!""An excellent read, isn't it?""Who knew I had a taste for literature?

You know it's time to do the laundry when you dry off with a sneaker,

That night's show was watched by ten million people, so I guess that director at The Second City who said the audience "didn't want to see a sketch with two women" can go shit in his hat.

Any girl with a grin never looks grim.

Lactose intolerant milk?! KISS, MY, DICK!

A comedy isn’t about being funny...a comedy is about characters who dare to know that they may choose a happy ending after all.

For the record, folks; I never took a shit on stage and the closest I ever came to eating shit anywhere was at a Holiday Inn buffet in Fayetteville, North Carolina, in 1973.

It isn't a matter of black is beautiful as much as it is white is not all that's beautiful.

I shall now express my utter disgust and anger with you through the piano.

Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est.(Applaud, my friends, the comedy is

A kitten is the delight of a household. All day long a comedy is played out by an incomparable actor.

I couldn't have made a better shot, if I had been one of those detectives who see a chap walking along the street and deduce that he is a retired manufacturer of poppet valves named Robinson with rheumatism in one arm, living at Clapham.

I had never before been a special fan of that great comedian Phyllis Diller, but she utterly won my heart this week by sending me an envelope that, when opened, contained a torn-off square of brown-bag paper of the kind suitable for latrine duty in an ill-run correctional facility. Duly unfurled, it carried a handwritten salutation reading as follows:Money's scarceTimes are hardHere's your f******I could not possibly improve on the sentiment, but I don't think it ought to depend on the current austerities. Isn't Christmas a moral and aesthetic nightmare whether or not the days are prosperous?

I sneak quietly up the stairs and toward my door. It’s not very late, but I don’t want to arouse Cyclops Eye next door. I’ve stopped looking as I walk past, but it’s difficult not to notice her window open just a few inches and her sitting right next to it, ready at a moment’s notice to give me her big one-eyed look. Maybe I should get her a monocle for Christmas, so she can make more of a statement.

Yeah, I love being famous. It's almost like being white, y'know?

Here comes Mamma Vauquerr, fair as a starrr; and strung up like a bunch of carrots. Aren't we suffocating ourselves a wee bit?' he asked, placing a hand on the top of her corset. 'A bit of a crush in the vestibule, here, Mamma! If we start crying, there'll be an explosion. Never mind, I'll be there to collect the bits--just like an antiquary.''Now, there's the language of true French gallantry,' murmured Madame Vauquer in an aside to Madame Couture.

Every time you tell a lie an angel punches a unicorn in the face with a kitten.

Your highness, when I said that you are like a stream of bat's piss, I only mean that you shine out like a shaft of gold when all around it is dark

Is your name even David?' I asked as I yanked my panties back on.'Is yours Melanie?' he inquired, buttoning his jeans.'I asked first,' I countered, wondering for the umpteenth time why being an idiot came so easily to me.

Right then, in a nutshell: this one hasn't a single bone of obedient-little-wife material in her heavenly body.''Hasn't she? Then what kind of bone does your expertise detect?'Fermin came closer, adopting a confidential tone. 'The passionate kind,' he said, raising his eyebrows with an air of mystery. 'And you can be sure I mean that as a compliment.

Tomorrow looked a lot better yesterday

Well, what do you know? Fakespeare!

My tendency to make up stories and lie compulsively for the sake of my own amusement takes up a good portion of my day and provides me with a peace of mind not easily attainable in this economic climate.

I hate comedy... Yo...-yo bitch.

Laughter is the best medicine

Comedy too can sometimes discern what is right.

What do you mean? In Old Castle? I still live with my parents in case you haven’t noticed, Jack. Those two strangers – that man and woman sitting on my sofa – are actually my parents. Oh, you mean your place? Yes, let’s evict your parents…let’s place them neatly in a cardboard box and leave it by the rubbish bins!

This is what my high school life had become—a horror show of epic, mind-fuck proportions.

To call that writing, madam, is an insult to quills and ink across the world.

The most I can hope for is to die in a pose that confuses future archaeologists.

The place is also big enough. We could all live there without killing each other." -Rhage"That depends more on your mouth than any floorplan." -Phury