The Art of the One-Liner:

I've more one-liners than a Botox clinic has frozen foreheads. 

I do adore a good one-liner. It’s the verbal equivalent of a slap with a sequinned glove. You know, something subtle, elegant, and just a touch cruel. Like when I told my wife's bridesmaid, “You looked radiant, darling like a solar flare in a polyester frock!”

One-liners are the pearls of wit, strung together by people who think fast and age slowly. I once said to a man in the front row, “You remind me of my first wife emotionally unavailable and tragically beige.” He laughed, bless him. Then cried. Then left.

I’ve always said, if you can’t say something nice, say it with impeccable timing and a dazzling smile. That’s the secret. Deliver the insult before they realise they’ve been complimented. I call it ‘reverse flattery’ it’s very big in the diplomatic circles of suburban Gateshead.

And let’s not forget the power of the pause. A good one-liner needs space to breathe, like my dear friend Jeff after climbing a single flight of stairs. You drop the line, let it simmer, and watch the audience squirm like they’ve just sat on a heated bidet.

So remember,: life is a cabaret, but comedy is a knife fight in sequins. Arm yourself with wit, wear your glasses like armour, and never trust a man who says “I love your personality” before asking for directions to the nearest exit.