Brass Eye

Christopher Morris:
If this were really happening, what would you think?

Ted Maul:
Kids burst shops by filling them with rice, and pouring in water: then standing back and laughing, while the bricks are ripped apart by the swelling food.

Chris Morris:
You are a piece of sh*t on my shoe. Lick yourself off. Lick yourself off my shoe... No, don't actually do it! Where's your self re-cocking-spect?

Christopher Morris:
You haven't got a clue have you? But you will do, if you watch for thirty minutes!

Moss Staples:
Kneeling girls! Statues driving cars! What's going on? Ten years ago a man was arrested in the area for driving statues around in a car. Was it him?

Christopher Morris:
The most obvious explanation is that it's a ball of lightning bouncing off a strut. But try telling that to any of these bog-brained murphies. You'd have a better chance of getting a blow-job off the pope.

Ted Maul:
From the moon, Cowsick's a little dot. From the ground, it's a huge mess! Like Dante meets Bosch in a crack lounge!

Christopher Morris:
Can you imagine the fear of knowing that there's a gay man on board? You'd be thinking, "My God. Will I wake up and find everybody dead?"

Christopher Morris:
You're wrong, and you're a grotesquely ugly freak!

Christopher Morris:
Your child could be splatted... by a roboplegic wrongcock

Christopher Morris:
Your comments are in and they've been described as "tedious, boring and stultifyingly ill-informed." So thanks for that.

Nicholas Parsons:
[visually edited from a poem about a "trapped elephant"] Aren't we a bunch of f***wits? An elephant could no more stick its trunk up its arse than we could lick our balls.

Chris Morris:
You're wrong, and you're a grotesquely ugly freak. [pause, everyone shocked] Thanks.

Chris Morris:
In Britain in the last century, it was quite acceptable for a gentleman to lose his virginity to one of London's many whore dogs. Dickens and Prince Albert both boasted of their experience.

Patrick Da Fronk:
The fox feels nothing. It's made of string.

Chris Morris:
Institutionalised cruelty is one thing, but the twisted brain-wrong of a one-off man-mental is quite another. Ted Maul disturbs.

Michael Van Wijk:
Urgent news - Karla has started to ingest her own head. Her dung pump mechanism has blown. There's bloody vegetable gas everywhere. For God's sake, help us pull her trunk out.

Michael Van Wijk:
[referring to an elephant with its trunk lodged in its anus] She needs Wolf power or she will explode in a shower of pulped yams.

David Jatt:
This is the grave of a cow. As you will see, it was killed in unnecessary pain, by a man.

David Compression:
Do you feel that vigilante-ism is actually going to help, in the long run?

Sir Rhodes Boyson:
I think it will rise in an area where something has gone wrong.

David Compression:
I mean in Gotham City in the United States they call up a specialist vigilante agent when they're in times of real trouble, by projecting a huge luminous emergency bat sign into the sky, and he comes rushing in. And so far that has worked. Is that something that should be encouraged?

[Tommy Vance's recorded message for first-time criminals]

Tommy Vance:
Well, they gotcha then. They gone and banged you up good and proper. So what now? What I'd like to do right now is to take your bad half outside, and do it an extremely physical discourtesy; and then buy your good half a pint of foaming, nut-brown ale. Cheers.

[Vanessa Feltz's recorded message for convicted murderers]

Vanessa Feltz:
Hello, you think you don't know me, don't you? Yes, but you do because I'm the shopkeeper you shot in a mindless hold-up; you blew out my guts, remember? I'm the old lady whose head you stove in with a loose wardrobe in the middle of the night, remember? I'm the little boy whose face you stabbed off in panic when I found you robbing my house, remember? I'm Marvin Gaye, shot by my own father - oh, yes, you know me all right.

Ted Maul:
Cowsick - the stench of poverty hangs in the air like an old man's nappy.

Chris Morris:
[reading headline] "Last one on drugs is a queer," shouts Portillo.

Christopher Morris:
People say that alcohol's a drug. It's not a drug, it's a drink!

Christopher Morris:
Luckily, the amount of heroin I use is harmless, I inject about once a month on a purely recreational basis. Fine. But what about other people less stable, less educated, less middle-class than me? Builders or blacks for example. If you're one of those, my advice is leave well alone. Good luck.

Chris Morris:
An overdose of heroin is fatal - in the short term. But there has been no research whatsoever into long term effects.

Christopher Morris:
Drugs destroy families. Well, a disabled lonely teenager, a blind mother, but a family held together by the father's crack dealing, which he uses to keep them in talking books and d*ldos.

Bernard Manning:
One young kiddie on Cake cried all the water out of his body. Just imagine how his mother felt. It's a f***ing disgrace.

Noel Edmonds:
What is Cake? Well, it has an active ingredient which is a dangerous psychoactive compound known as dimesmeric andersonphosphate. It stimulates the part of the brain called Shatner's Bassoon. And that's the bit of the brain that deals with time perception. So, a second feels like a month. Well, it almost sounds like fun...unless you're the Prague schoolboy who walked out into the street straight in front of a tram. He thought he'd got a month to cross the street.

Christopher Morris:
If time's a drug, then Big Ben is a huge needle injecting it into the sky.

Bernard Manning:
Cake is a made-up drug. It's not made from plants, it's made from chemicals...by...sick bastards.

Richard Blackwood:
The child smells of hammers.

An MP:
The child was stuck in an area of Internet the size of Ireland.

Christopher Morris:
You are a paedophile, you are a nonce, you're a perv, you're a slot badger, you're a two pin din plug, you're a bush dodger, you're a small bean regarder, you're an unabummer, you're a nut administrator, you're a bent ref, you're the crazy world of Arthur Brown, you're a fence foal, you're a free willy, you're a chimney bottler, you're a bunty man, you're a shrub rocketeer...

Chris Morris:
[talking about paedophile Jes North] One day, a stairwell nonce-bashing left him quadrospazzed on a life-glug.

Christopher Morris:
[walking down the street holding a sign] So, is it any wonder people are afraid of technology? [Spins large sign revealing the word technology]

Christopher Morris:
TECHNOLOGY!

woman:
Oh my god!

Sir Hugh Maharggs:
Homosexuals can't swim, they attract enemy radar, they attract sharks, they nudge people when they're trying to shoot, they always insist on sitting at "The Captain's Table"... they *muck about*. Imagine... the fear... when you go to sleep with a gay man on board and think "Oh God, when I wake up, will everyone be dead?" You can't run a ship like that.