School of Comedy

I'm a bit of a part-time psychologist, me. I can read people. They get in the back of my cab, I can read 'em like a copy of Razzle. It's an art. See, I had that Cracker in the back once. Sweaty sock. Fat. Criminal psychologian. I says to Cracker: 'analyse this' and I point to my face and he says I’m a classic case of delusional paranoia with borderline schizophrenic tendencies and could I drop him outside the Angus Steak House. No problemo.

'Course he means the one up in Aberdeen so off we goes, M1, big fare, the business and I kid you not, I come out the other end a fully-qualified psychoanalysisist. Now I can spot a nutter a mile off. That Vanessa Feltz? Nutter. That Viggo Mortensen? Nutter. That Lucian Freud? Nutter. That Peter Mandelson? Nutter. That Thomas Edison? Nutter. That Harvey Weinstein? Nutter. That Terry Nutkins? Nutter. I could go on. Sometimes I do.