Paul James Martin (born 9 July 1957), known by the stage name Paul Merton, is an English comedian.[1] (wikipedia)
It seems like a contradiction, but the shy person who is a performer actually does make sense, because in a way, when you're young and shy, making people laugh is a good way to make friends. It's an instant connection.
It was a bizarre existence I led in my early twenties - that cliche of the comedian who goes out and entertains a roomful of people and then goes home to a lonely bedsit was unbelievably poignant for me because that was exactly what I was doing. I had periods of real loneliness.
I don't consider myself a fashion victim. I consider fashion a victim of me.
I was trying to organise my DVDs into a sort of chronological order, and I am afraid that it all trailed off after the Sixties.
In 1987, I was in Edinburgh doing my first one-man show. I took part in a kickabout with some fellow comedians and tripped over my trousers and heard this cracking sound in my leg. A couple of days later I went into a coma and was diagnosed with a pulmonary embolism.
If you stay in a house and you go to the bathroom and there is no toilet paper, you can always slide down the banisters. Don't tell me you haven't done it.
My school days were the happiest days of my life; which should give you some indication of the misery I've endured over the past twenty-five years.
I'm always amazed to hear of air crash victims so badly mutilated that they have to be identified by their dental records. What I can't understand is, if they don't know who you are, how do they know who your dentist is?
On my first day in New York a guy asked me if I knew where Central Park was. When I told him I didn't, he said: Do you mind if I mug you here?
When I wake up on a Monday morning and I realise I don't have to go and work at the civil service, I really think I've won.