Richard E. Grant Monologues

I feel like a pig shat in my head.

We want the finest wines available to humanity. And we want them here, and we want them now!

Free to those that can afford it, very expensive to those that can't.

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth. And indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the Earth, seems to me a sterile promontory... This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors! What a piece of work is a man. How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! How like an angel in apprehension! How like a *god*!

The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me… no, nor women neither… Nor women neither.

All right, this is the plan. We get in there and get wrecked, then we'll eat a pork pie, then we'll drop a couple of Surmontil-50's each. That means we'll miss out Monday but come up smiling Tuesday morning.

Look at that, accident black spot! These aren't accidents! They're throwing themselves into the road gladly! Throwing themselves into the road to escape all this hideousness!

Throw yourself into the road, darling! You haven't got a chance!

I must have some booze. I demand to have some booze!

I have a heart condition. I have a heart condition, if you hit me it's murder.

My wife is having a baby. Listen, I don't know what my f... acquaintance did to upset you but it's nothing to do with me. I suggest you both go outside and discuss it sensibly, in the street.

Oh, look at this little bastard. "Boy lands plum role for top Italian director" Course he does! Probably on a tenner a day, and I know what for! 2 pound 10 a tit and a fiver for his arse!

This is ridiculous. Look at me, I'm 30 in a month and I've got a sole flapping off my shoe.

Easy for you to say, luvvie, you've had an audition. Why can't I have an audition? It's ridiculous. I've been to drama school. I'm good looking. I tell you, I've a fuck sight more talent that half the rubbish that gets on television. Why can't I get on television?

Will it? That's what you say. The only programme I'm likely to get on is the fucking news.

Listen to this. "Curse of the Superman. I took drugs to win medals says top athlete Geoff Woade."

"In a world exclusive interview, 33 year old shot putter Geoff Woade who weighs 317 pounds, admitted taking massive doses of anabolic steroids, drugs banned in sport. It used to give him bad tempers and act up said his wife. He used to pick on me. But now he's stopped he's much better in our sex life and in our general life." Jesus Christ. This huge, thatched head with its earlobes and cannonball is now considered sane. "Geoff Woade is feeling better and is now prepared to step back into society and start tossing his orb about." Look at him! Look at Geoff Woade! His head must weight fifty pounds on its own. Imagine the size of his balls. Imagine getting into a fight with the fucker!

That's what you'd say, but that wouldn't wash with Geoff. No! He'd like a bit of pleading. Add spice to it. In fact, he'd probably tell you what he was going to do before he did it. "I'm gonna pull you head off." "Oh no, please, don't pull my head off." "I'm gonna pull your head off because I don't like your head."

You're not leaving me in here alone. Those are the kind of windows faces look in at.

At some point or another I want to stop and get hold of a child.

To tutor it in the ways of righteousness, and procure some uncontaminated urine.

This is a device enabling the drunken driver to operate in absolute safety. You fill this with piss, take this pipe down the trouser and sellotape this valve to the end of the old chap. Then you get horribly drunk and they can't fucking touch you. According to these instructions, you refuse everything but a urine sample. You undo your valve and give them a dose of unadulterated child's piss and they have to give you your keys back. Danny's a genius.

How dare you. How *dare* you!

Bastard asked me to understudy Konstantin in The Seagull. I'm not gonna understudy anybody. Especially that little pimp! Anyway, I loathe those Russian plays. Always full of women staring out of windows, whining about ducks going to Moscow.

How can it be so cold in here? It's like Greenland in here. We've got to get some booze. It's the only solution to this intense cold.

Look at us! Nothing that reasonable members of society demand as their rights! No fridges, no televisions, no phones. Much more of this and I'm going to apply for meals on wheels.

I'm utterly arseholed.