Now, I must say that I've not met Grant; but any man with the cojones to wear a rubber chicken as a sporran must receive accolades from the Pythonesque rabble.

It's not pinin,' it's passed on! This chicken is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late chicken! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed him to the perch he would be pushing up the daisies! Its metabolical processes are of interest only to historians! It's hopped the twig! It's shuffled off this mortal coil! It's run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This.... is an EX-CHICKEN!


(With sincerest apologies to John Cleese and Michael Palin.)