Peter Baynham

The future's come and gone; it's a thing of the past. That once impossibly exotic expression 'the year 2000,' for so long evocative of silver suits and robots in pinnies, now feels antiquated.

Innovations, instantly followed by a demented lust for them, now arrive with dizzying speed, not just daily, but in one-hour delivery slots.

I have no disagreement with the aims of anti-vivisectionists.

We're chipping away at our capacity for wonder. When hologram TVs eventually go on sale, they'll cost £20,000 and be bought only by those strange, heroic, friendless men who live in flats piled high with giant 80s mobiles and DVD players weighing eight stone."

Christmas movies, it's a hard thing to do. The danger is you just end up with a Hollywood star with a Santa beard. You risk it being fake and cheesy and not real.

I'm the only comedian qualified to navigate a supertanker.

It feels quite cool, in a mad way, to be someone who skulks about in the shadows.

It's a fairly common phenomenon of London life - people having fully developed critiques of books they haven't read and films they haven't seen. I'd probably include myself in that.

In life, comedy occurs naturally, as it should, in the most appalling of circumstances.

No subject is unsuitable for comedy.

People complain that joking about serious subjects is 'making light' of them. Isn't that a good idea? Comedy lets the air out of the bully's tires.

First and foremost, I just want to write comedy.