Quotes from Spike Milligan

Well, he thought, you can fool some of the people all the time and all the people some of the time, which is just long enough to be President of the United States, and on that useless profundity, Milligan himself pedalled on, himself, himself.

Author? Author? Did you write these legs?' 'Yes." 'Well, I don't like dem. I don't like 'em at all at all. I could ha' writted better legs meself.

Come, come, come? I'm not asking for hundreds of pounds, just a little to start with. Will someone say ten shillings?' 'I can say it, Father' said Milligan, 'but I haven't got it.' 'I've got it,' thought Dr Goldstein, 'but I'm not going to say it.

A family man from Siberia As a father was very inferior But one operation Revised the situation And now he's Mother Superior

Professor Milligan will now play his tree! The composition is in A Minor, the tree is in A garden.

With a roof over his head he had ceased to work, living off his [war] pension and his wits, both hopelessly inadequate.

Busty' Roberts had joined the Royal Artillery in 1914 and since then had steadily risen to the rank of Gunner. Now the crunch: someone with a perverted sense of humour made him a Lance Bombardier. Roberts went insane with power. The war now consisted of two people, him and Hitler.

Some people live a nothing life: the most important thing they ever do is die. Thank God for eccentrics! Take Gunner Octavian Neat. He would suddenly appear naked in a barrack room and say, "Does anybody know a good tailor?", or "Gentlemen – I think there's a thief in the battery." He was the bane of the Regiment.

How long was I in the Army? Five foot eleven.

Everybody has to be somewhere!

The youngest member of this ageing community was ex-variety artiste, Patrick L. Balls. Fifty-nine now, he spent out his remaining years pulling a rope lift and bottling fruit. He had once whistled Ave Maria for Queen Victoria. She wasn't present at the time, but nevertheless that's who he was whistling it for.

Author, author, did you write these legs?( The Milligan- Puckoon

Roberts had joined the Royal Artillery in 1914 and since then had steadily risen to the rank of Gunner. Now the crunch: someone with a perverted sense of humour made him a Lance Bombardier. Roberts went insane with power. The war now consisted of two people, him and Hitler.

Actually, I was glad when we left, I couldn't have kept up this non-stop soldier-all-day - lover-all-night with only cups of tea in between.

My sister Laura's bigger than me And lifts me up quite easily. I can't lift her, I've tried and tried; She must have something heavy inside.

R.I.P. Tom Conlon O'Rourke. Not Dead, just Sleeping.

Money! Father Rudden had tried everything to raise funds to repair the church, he even went to the bank. 'Don't be a fool, Father!' said the manager, 'Put that gun down.' Money!

The die was cast. It was a proud day for the Milligan family as I was taken from the house. "I'm too young to go," I screamed as Military Policemen dragged me from my pram, clutching a dummy. At Victoria Station the R.T.O. gave me a travel warrant, a white feather and a picture of Hitler marked "This is your enemy." I searched every compartment, but he wasn't on the train.

We were drunk last night, We were drunk the night before, We're going to get drunk tonight If we never get drunk any more. The more we drink The merrier we shall be For we are the boys of the Royal Artillery.

You saved my life, Holmes,' said the baronet. 'We all make mistakes,' said Holmes. 'Are you strong enough to stand?' 'Give me another mouthful of that brandy, and I shall be able to stand anything.' He drank the bottle and collapsed. He tried to stagger to his feet and passed out, but he was still ghastly pale and trembling in every limb. We helped him to a rock. He wouldn't eat it.

Killing of civilians was an outrage I couldn't swallow on any basis, on any side. In the end there were no sides. Just living and dead.

Keep talking Milligan. I think I can get you out on Mental Grounds.' 'That's how I got in, sir.' 'Didn't we all.

The smell of 500 newly kitted rookies could only be likened to an open Hindu sewerage works on a hot summer night by Delius. To try and 'cure' my B.D. I salted it and hung it outside in thunderstorms, I took it for walks, I hit it, in desperation, I sprayed it with Eau de Cologne, it made little difference, except once a sailor followed me home.

Most trees were made of wood, and so were the rest.