David Mitchell
David Mitchell
English stand up comedian and half of the comedy duo Mitchell and Webb, alongside Robert Webb. He is best known for starring in and writing the Channel 4 series Peep Show, for which he won the British Academy Television Award for Best Comedy Performance in 2009. He has also written and starred in several sketch shows including The Mitchell and Webb Situation, That Mitchell and Webb Sound and, That Mitchell and Webb Look.
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionComedian
Date of Birth14 July 1974
CitySalisbury, England
I think we think in terms of stories.
I think words operate like musical notes that the eyeball hears.
I'm a novelist, that's how I make my livelihood, and I concentrate on the novels.
I'm from a time and place where bigheadedness was a really savage crime, and you'd get cut down for it by your peers and parents.
Probably in a parallel universe not far from here, I'm working for Nintendo.
People pontificate, "Suicide is selfishness." Career churchmen like Pater go a step further and call in a cowardly assault on the living. Oafs argue this specious line for varying reason: to evade fingers of blame, to impress one's audience with one's mental fiber, to vent anger, or just because one lacks the necessary suffering to sympathize. Cowardice is nothing to do with it - suicide takes considerable courage. Japanese have the right idea. No, what's selfish is to demand another to endure an intolerable existence, just to spare families, friends, and enemies a bit of soul-searching.
Whoever opined "Money can't buy you happiness" obviously had far too much of the stuff.
Only professional diplomats, inveterate idiots and women view diplomacy as a long-term substitute for war.
One fine day a predatory world shall consume itself.
Faith, the least exclusive club on Earth, has the craftiest doorman.
If war's first victim is truth, its second is clerical efficiency.
The rain's innumerable hooves spatter on the streets and roofs.
When insolvent, pack minimally, with a valise tough enough to be thrown onto a London pavement from a first- or second-floor window. Insist on hotel rooms no higher.
If only,’ Shiroyama dreams, ‘human beings were not masks behind masks behind masks. If only this world was a clean board of lines and intersections. If only time was a sequence of considered moves and not a chaos of slippages and blunders.