He fancies you. He told me.
You don't give a shit about anyone and no one gives a shit about you!
I think I killed a duck!
I wanna be with her more, I wanna be with her all the time, and I wanna tell her things I don't even tell you or mum. And I don't want her to have another boyfriend. I suppose if I could have all those things, I wouldn't really mind if I touched her or not.
Suddenly I realized - two people isn't enough. You need backup. If there are only two people, and someone drops off the edge, then you're on your own. Two isn't a large enough number. You need three at least.
I used to think two was not enough. But now things are great; there are loads of people... I don't know what Will was so pissed off about. I don't think couples are the future. The way I see it now, we both got back-up now. It's like that thing Jon Bon Jovi said: 'No man is an island.'
The thing is, a person's life is like a TV show. I was the star of The Will Show. And The Will Show wasn't an ensemble drama. Guests came and went, but I was the regular. It came down to me and me alone. If Marcus' mum couldn't manage her own show, if her ratings were falling, it was sad, but that was her problem. Ultimately, the whole single mum plotline was a bit complicated for me.
This crying in the morning thing, this depression, let's get that fixed.
I was in some strange territory. Was I frightened? I was petrified.
In my opinion, all men are islands. And what's more, now's the time to be one. This is an island age.
I am an island. I am bloody Ibiza!
I'd be the worst possible Godfather. I'd probably drop her on her head at her christening. I'd forget all her birthdays until she was 18. Then I'd take her out and get her drunk. And, let's face it, quite possibly try and shag her.
Once you open your door to one person anyone can come in.
I find the key is to think of a day as units of time, each unit consisting of no more than thirty minutes. Full hours can be a little bit intimidating and most activities take about half an hour. Taking a bath: one unit, watching countdown: one unit, web-based research: two units, exercising: three units, having my hair carefully dishevelled: four units. It's amazing how the day fills up, and I often wonder, to be absolutely honest, if I'd ever have time for a job; how do people cram them in?
It was terrible! Terrible! But driving really fast behind the ambulance was fantastic!
Me, I didn't mean anything. About anything, to anyone. And I knew that guaranteed me a long, depression-free life.
Oh no! November the sodding 19th... Six weeks before bloody Christmas and they were already playing that song.
And there I was killing them softly with my song. Or rather being killed. And not so softly either.
My life is made up of units of time. Buying CDs - two units. Eating lunch - three units. Exercising - two units. All in all, I had a very full life. It's just that it didn't mean anything.
She couldn't stay at my place, and she didn't have a DVD, or satellite, or cable, so we were always stuck watching some crap made for t.v. movie about a kid with leukemia. I had to end it.
Having been Will the Good Guy, I didn't relish going back to my usual role of Will the Unreliable, Emotionally Stunted Arsehole.
I'll tell you one thing. Men are bastards. After about ten minutes I wanted to cut my own penis off with a kitchen knife.
Every man is an island. I stand by that. But clearly some men are island CHAINS. Underneath, they are connected...
No, Marcus, I do not want to come over for Christmas. I do not want to spend Christmas with Ms. Granola Suicide and her spawn.
When you sing it brings sunshine and happiness into my heart