“I saw a bloke the other day talking to himself. So I tried to listen but I couldn't hear him. But the weird part is while I was watching him I was going "That bloke's bloody talkin' to himself over there." There's another bloke looking at me going "That bloke's bloody talkin' to himself over there."”

“BB: Are there any men in?
(no response)
BB: Any women?
Female voices: Yes!
BB: Ah, you see, there's this crisis in masculine identity at the moment. Women, totally at home with their sexuality. 'I am woman, wo-man, I, wo-MAN.' Men 'Er.. (awkward expression) Someone else'll shout out, I'll be alright'. Alright, is there any blokes in?
Masculine voices: Yeah!
BB: You see, there's a term that men feel more comfortable with. Bloke, blokey bloke bloke. It's a kind of friendly term. 'Oh, he's a bloke, lovely bloke, nice bloke, blokey bloke. I'm a bloke, you're a bloke, wahey!' It doesn't impose any unnecessary demands on us as men. 'Bloke', that's just basically 'carry stuff, don't get in the way'. 'Man', that's all kinds of other things, isn't it? That's nobility, gallantry, wisdom… that conjures up some image of a bloke in a cardigan with a pipe saying 'Cover up those table legs, mother, they're inflaming my sexual ardour'.
Ch. 24, 53:21”

“That’s Narmer with the spoon,” I guessed. “Angry because the other bloke stole his breakfast cereal?”

“Georgie doesn't like babies do you Georgie? Some days, Georgie, I think you behave like a bloke.”

“I once saw some magician bloke turn a carton of orange juice into orange juice, beer, milk, coke and ginger ale. That makes him five times better than Jesus or something.”

“Three blokes go into a pub. Something happens. The outcome was hilarious!
Episode 1, 1:36”

“I am going to become a writer for Cosmo - you don’t have to make any sense at all. Or maybe I’ll be a bloke, they don’t have to make sense either.”

“Three blokes go into a pub. Well, I say three; could be four or five. Could be nine or ten, doesn't matter. Could have been fifteen, twenty - fifty. Round it up. Hundred. Let's go mad, eh - two-fifty. Tell you what, double it up - five hundred. Thousand! Oh, I've gone mad! Two thousand! Five thousand! (adopting auctioneer persona) Anyone? Five thousand, six thou, six thousand, ten thousand! Small town in Hertfordshire goes into a pub! Fifteen thousand blokes! Alright, let's go - population of Rotterdam. The Hague. Whole of Northern Holland. Mainland U. K. Let's go all the way to the top - Europe, alright? Whole of Europe goes - I say Europe. Could be Eurasia. Not the band, obviously, that's just two of them. Alright, continents - North America! Plus South America! Plus Antartica - that's just eight blokes in a weather station. Not a good example. Alright, make it a lot simpler, all the blokes on the planet go into the pub, right? And the first bloke goes up to the bar and he says "I'll get these in."”

“Lord Peter Wimsey: I'm told I make love rather nicely. Though I am at a bit of a disadvantage at the moment. One can't be too convincing at the other end of the table with a bloke looking in the window.”

“Walking down the street in London with Suzanne, saw a little homeless.. well I didn't see the homeless bloke right, I saw a leg stickin out of a doorway, thought 'here we go', right. Walked past it, right, you're not gonna believe this. Homeless…. Chinese fella. I've never seen one of them.”