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Say no more!
I love the Philosopher's Song:
"Immanuel Kant was a real pissant who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could drink you under the table.
David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya 'bout raising the wrist.
Socrates himself was permanently pissed.
John Stewart Mill, of his own free will, after half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away. Half a crate of whiskey every day.
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle. Hobbes was fond of his dram.
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart. I drink, therefore I am.
Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed.
A lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he's pissed."
Not to mention the Whizzo Chocolate sketch.
"We use only the finest baby frogs, dew picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and then sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope and lovingly frosted with glucose."
He makes it sound so yummy!
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