A Quote by Joanna Lumley

I love a cardboard coffin. Both Mummy and Daddy went off in cardboard coffins, painted - Daddy's was rifle green. Beautifully made. — © Joanna Lumley
I love a cardboard coffin. Both Mummy and Daddy went off in cardboard coffins, painted - Daddy's was rifle green. Beautifully made.
I sounded like a fantasist at school when you'd go round the class, and they'd say, 'What do Mummy and Daddy do?' I was like, 'Mummy's an actress, and Daddy's a musician, and he plays his guitar with Bonnie Tyler.' And the teachers used to, like, roll their eyes, like, 'She's mental!'
Those days of every child having a mummy and daddy who lived at home - Daddy went to work, and Mummy stayed at home and took care of everyone - those days have almost gone, and it's so much more unconventional now.
If you want, you can have a coffin made out of cardboard or wicker or papier mache. There's one like a seed pod, or you could buy one that doubles as both a bookcase and a coffin. During your life, you stand it in your living room, and then after you die, the books are taken out and your body put in their place and the whole thing buried.
By the way, I've decided to start referring to myself exclusively as 'Daddy.' Everytime Daddy would otherwise say 'I' or 'Me,' Daddy is now going to say 'Daddy.
I carry a knife with me so I can cut images out of cardboard boxes. I'm always cutting cardboard. Especially every Thursday, which is recycling day.
Nobody ever says, 'Hey daddy, thanks for knockin' out this rent.' 'Hey daddy, I sure love this hot water.' 'Hey daddy, it's easy to read with all this light.' Nobody give a fk about dads!
I used to cut guitars out of a piece of cardboard to copy the Strat look. I used a backwards tennis racket for a while and graduated to the cardboard cutout.
I'm really familiar with what Cardboard's doing; it's not a novel concept. Cardboard is in many ways a direct ripoff of FOV2GO, a project I helped work on when I was at ICT, and it was fairly well known in the academic VR community.
Daddy pays for the water, daddy pays for the gas, daddy pays for the electricity, and if daddy didn't pay for the electricity, he'd pay for the candle on your nightstand, so you can study for the big test tomorrow.
The only reason I went for that goal is that I wanted to say: 'Now, mummy-daddy, will you love me?'
Daddy is trying really fugging hard to think of a not-terrifying reason why you'd wake Daddy up in the middle of the night to ask that fugging question. But no. No. Daddy does not have a match or a lighter.
I love my daddy. My daddy's everything. I hope I can find a man that will treat me as good as my dad.
I have the best daddy in the whole world, and I will miss him every day. When I see a crocodile, I will always think of him, and I know that Daddy made this zoo so everyone could come and learn to love all the animals.
I am a born-again atheist, so there isn't going to be a funeral. I will be buried in a linen wrap in a cardboard coffin in my forest with an oak tree planted on my head.
To say that Agatha Christie’s characters are cardboard cut-outs is an insult to cardboard cut-outs.
Mommy and Daddy both had jobs when I was a kid, so, like a lot of people my age, TV became Mommy and books became Daddy.
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