cNutgroist

Happy Birthday Satan!

Thanks to god, creator of all things*, there IS an alternative

*except Satan^

^or maybe not"

"it doesn't matter - my faith is strong, even if my reason is weak
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for those too young to remember, google the words Joey and Deacon
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how do they get away with headlines like this?! i don't know but i'm glad they do. this was the FRONT PAGE for fuck's sake!
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the Lady in question is actually a doggy who alerted the residents of the old fogeys home that a fire was underway.
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i have no idea who or what this person wants and i won't be going to sandymount beech (sic?) at 3am and i shall not be wearing a mini-skirt when i don't.
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a 'nice bunch' they may be but given that the directions tell us they are (opposite Mental Hospital) was it so wise to use Bananas as their chosen fruit?
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you could argue that divorce has affected this chap's self-esteem, poor guy. but i'm more worried about the bloke underneath who's looking for a genuine lady. why doesn't he just put 'no more trannies please'?
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this could be read in several ways, i think. none of which do it any service. and they've spelt 'rapper' wrong
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what's the subtle message they're trying to get over here?
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because if you do happen to get dipped in batter and deep fried, you may as well enjoy the chips, right?
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thanks to the Friar for this fine selection of advertising. he and i are both mildly obsessed with such matters - it seems like only yesterday I saw a photoshopped advert for an Italian manufacturer furniture (at least i hope it was photoshopped) of a cow calmly reclining on a luxurious leather sofa. Sure, in its mind it was probably going "Dad! DAD! What have they done to you?!?" but fuck that, it's not important apparently. Enough of the rant, i could wank on all day (if it weren't against doctor's orders) about how we should respect animals more but there's nothing like a few disrespectful company logos to do the job for me....
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ah, the mighty cow feasting upon a juicy rare steak. now that IS rare
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picked apart by your dear human brethren, another fine exit from this world for the roasted pig - taken with a special Nikon Saddleback lens
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' oh monsieur, it would honour me so greatly if you would taste un petit morceau of my mother?'
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what nobler fate is there than to perform a synchronised dance of death above the flames of your own destruction sporting late 80's ski-bum sunglasses with two of your mates
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yes, pigs certainly are held in high esteem by this catering company
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so, this little piggy looks like he knows how to cook a nice pork chop, eh? mmmMMMmmm
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what a greedy pig - he just cant wait, can he?
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by all accounts, this is a shameless rip-off of The Office...

Stromberg

but given the low expectations we Angles have of our Saxon cousins' sense of humour, i'm always surprised at how funny the Germans are. So i reckon it's probably very funny.
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how would you promote patient forums if you were in charge of the NHS?




like this?
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feel free to join in...

Contrary to popular opinion, the national anthem of Lapland is not Aint No Sunshine...

It's actually Sat in your Lap
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I'm telling you, there's going to be another civil war there someday soon. Stick some money on it now

thanks to the genius Patriot Boy for this one
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Like many, I am sad to hear of the death of John Peel and have not seen the British media go crazy like this since the Queen Mutha kicked it, or even her grandaughter-in-law, the princess of all our hearts, apparently. The difference is, on every cable news network i watched, every radio dj i heard on the uk and irish airwaves and every thing i read on the internet, people seemed to speak, perhaps for the first time, about their genuine affection for someone who clearly had more significance in their lives than some chinless blueblood who's never done a hard day's work in their lives. It's obvious, really. This guy played top quality records that no-one else would for 37 years and subsequently enlightened several generations' lives. Many people know a guy who everyone in that circle of friends can rely on to get some interesting sounds whenever he's around. Doesn't matter if they're not always good. I think John Peel fulfilled that need for everyone in the nation who was willing to listen.

And he was also a very witty man
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continuing the week of links, can anyone tell me why i can't access this site...?

The Official Re-election Site for President George W Bush

I'm officially forbidden, according to the HTTP 403 message I got. Anyone else get this? Is it something I said, George?

Or is it because I visited this site earlier today, with its fascinating, incriminating Dead Letter Office...?

The Official Re-selection site for President George W Bush
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And speaking of bullying, i seem to recall, when i used to read the trivials, many successful comedians in interviews would often relate how they started telling jokes or developing a quirky sense of humour at school as a way of avoiding the school bully. Perhaps that's why I'm not really going to make it? I mean, for sure my story is very similar, except I was that bully. That's how i got my sense of humour - by nicking all their jokes. And the thing I loved about being a bully was being able to pick on people, demoralise them and hopefully contribute to the ultimate ruination of their lives.

It's only now that I realise how fitting it was that, straight out of college, I got accepted for Teacher Training.
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Study: Nearly 200 Million Chinese Obese
San Jose Mercury News (subscription), CA - Oct 12, 2004... The new study found the proportion of overweight adults in China has jumped by ... It said the number of people considered clinically obese had nearly doubled to ...

So instead of the old fear that if they all jumped up and down simultaneously the world would somehow crack, the new worry is that all they have to do now is all fall over together...and BOOM!
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BULLY WANK?!?!

I shall be using that sublime turn of phrase, and perhaps the practice itself just as soon as i'm not feeling like it
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even if you're not following the presidential election, these 3 paragraphs may fascinate and amuse you
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And a strong thank you to the Birdman (of Alkaseltzer?) for complying most quickly with my request for his story of how dangerous a true rapier wit can be.

How does one measure the 'rapey' factor of any wit, by the way?
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And you thought The Curmudgeon was the only one?

Find out all you need to know about all our tomorrows with The News of the Future
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I don't know what constitutes work-friendly or not these days since i'm blessed not to share an office space with humans so please, before clicking on this link, go ask your boss if you can look at a huge gallery of men's cocks stuck thru the noseholes of photos of prominent politicians and other famous peoples.

And how much does Dick Cheney look like an elephant ?
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But seriously now, who IS the Bangalore Bosun and what does he think he's doing?
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And what the fuck is going on here? I'm not certain this isn't a parody site, you know...

Fast Times at Electra High
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Oct 25th to Nov something - You are the week of links

Thanks to the prolific Raoul for the tip here - thecurmudgeon
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Question For The Day:-

Who isn't Dave Dobbler?


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my sex life just flashed before my eyes
much as i have done to womens' surprise
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but in the meantime, this:

from Ebay

who is apparently a friend of a friend and that doesnt surprise me

(and no, it's not the bloke auctioning off the wedding invitation)
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And so to last night, a fancy bistro where you can't get in if you're acting drunk and disorderly. Unfortunately, once you're in the rules don't apply. So i'm sitting there with mi' gorrrrrrlfreynd (the irish accent is rubbing off at last) and 5 french friends. We're having a fine old time, talking shite and degustating everything we can afford. At the end of the night, after a commendable run of music on the bar stereo, someone obviously wants to get rid of us cos they put on Dido. One of my companions asks me who it is and I reply "Dido". He says "What, Dildo?". I say "No, Fido. Because she's a dog and her music smells of shit". That's the level of anglo-french humour we were dealing with. And we laugh heartily at our 'aren't we funny! not really, no!" conversation.
So the middle-aged lady that has been sitting behind us at the bar chatting to her middle-aged lady friend suddenly stops in the middle of her conversation, turns round and fixes us all a stare. Smiles wickedly (literally wickedly, i'm telling you) and starts picking imaginary hairs off the back of one of my friend's collars. He's unaware of this but his girlfriend sure isnt. I ask her very politely what she's found on his neck...

No Response

Did you find something interesting?

Still No Response
You see my friend there? You're picking the back of his neck and we're all wondering what it is you've found.

She grabs my face with both hands, grins lovingly, manically into it, squeezing it like im a cute little baby and goes "What's on the back of his neck? Nothing. What you just said was all lies and bullshit. You're trying too hard. Here you are with French people and you're English, you shouldn't have to speak french to 'em. We don't want the North. That's a British problem. English people can have 'em all. Down South we don't want anything to do with 'em. They're all yours. Take 'em. Look at you! Aren't you lovely? Oh i'm sorry but you are

And she finally let's go of my face. I ask her what on earth she means, still politely because i'm not feeling threatened and i don't want to belittle her. I just think she needs to be made to realise, for herself, that she's drunk and mad and wrong. So i tell her I'm not going to talk about 'The North' (for other 'English people' [who are apparently indistinguishable from British - Birdman i wish i'd had you with me then], she means Northern Ireland, not the cold misty place full of coal and pies the M1 takes you to) because I don't know anything about it (my standard response, or it would be if anyone had ever brought it up but the truth within her mad statement is that most people in the Republic really don't care too much for what happens up there and don't care to bring it up with British citizens), I tell her that I'm speaking, or trying to speak, french because everyone is TALKING IN FRENCH and i'm not going to force them all to speak my language just cos im shit at theirs. I also ask her what exactly it was that I said that was all 'lies and bullshit' so I could have a chance to defend myself.

I'm wrong. ok? i'm WRONG.

Wrong about what? Maybe you are, maybe you're not. What exactly?

Everything. Everything. I'm wrong about it all

This is a shame because I didn't want her to get so contrite and i can see she's approaching melancholy. Besides, i'd hoped to slag off Dido some more. I'd hoped to say that she wasn't wrong andnor was I since it was all a matter of taste. I think Dido is perfectly formulaic, soulless and flimsy music designed more for aspirational, empty lives and cynically marketed thusly. You think it's really great music that speaks to you. That's all.

But instead she asked me what I thought, no, no, no, honestly thought, of Ireland....

to be cont.
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Godgiven comedy moment no.2 was sunday night at Vicar St to see Youssou N'Dour and the Fathy Salama Orchestra sing songs of devotional Sufi music from Egypt, Senegal and elsewhere besides. Leaving aside the fact that the number of Senegalese music fans divided by the number of Egyptian music fans means that most of the people in the 1000-strong room were basically there to hear "7 seconds" and nothing else (which i'm pleased to say he didn't do), the problem was that 40 minutes after the band was due to take the stage there was still nothing happening. The compere then came out to announce that he was very sorry but there'd been an oversight, it was all Vicar St's fault, but some of the musicians were very sorry and upset at having to ask but were basically a little uneasy about coming out to perform since the music is all liturgical, it was the start of Ramadan and there was alcohol in the audience....so could we all just hurry up and finish our drinks please!? he gave us 15 minutes and sneaked off to much confusion. Cue 1000 people clapping and cheering because we're all good citizens of a multicultural, tolerant society aren't we now. Simultaneously cue the same 1000 people groaning, rumbling and booing a little upon realising that yes, we've got to finish our bloody drinks so a bunch of superstitious foreigners can get up and play their tinkly winkly plinky-plonky music even though we all paid 60 bloody euro each for this.

So I said to my companions "I wonder if they find out I'm here they'll ask for the Jew to be removed as well?"

And I said it too loudly

And everyone in several rows turned round to see who had just said such an obnoxious comment

And everyone smiled

(phew)

But the Marriage Module still hit me
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Now i've decided to call myself a comedian I notice that things happen to me which, if I were on the way to the theatre at the time, I would surely thank the Gods who live up on Mount Funny.

Getting a lift back from the comedy club last week in a fellow comedian's 30 year-old Volkswagen Beetle which had For Sale details on the back and side windows. As we pull up to the lights in Shepherd's Bush, a taxi driver stops next to us and winds his window down. He's trying to say something but we can't hear. We're thinking he's going to say something about a flat tyre or a broken sidelight. I wind down the window, he grins and shouts "That's never worth Four Hundred Quid!" and speeds off.
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alright, i've had a bit of a lie down and now feel ready to tell my tale:

This comedian walks into a wine bar and...no..that's not it...ok, um...hey Dublin, how you doing? it's really great to be here. Which reminds me, there was an Englishman, an Irishm...ah...no, that won't work...right...hello London, brace yourself cos i don't 'do' jokes....oh...Bigley's kidnappers said they'd consider releasing him if you all lau..oh...oh shit...i didn't know...sorry

And so it goes on. But enough of my daymares. What really happened was that every year the BBC do a competition for new stand-ups and every year I spend 2 months thinking about entering but always fail due to forgetfulness. This year I forgot to forget and on the very last day I cobbled together some 5 minutes of rambling bullshit, stuck an english address on it and had to have it couriered over to blighty to make sure it arrived on time. Before the money and package had even been handed over in my local post office, I'd already forgotten about it. Let me put it this way:

I'd LIKE to be a stand-up comedian. It'd be 'nice', i'm sure. But It's not my life's dream. In fact, as I recall, I'm scared beyond all measurements when it comes to speaking in public and not without good reason. (pedantic nasal voice) Many moons ago (/pedantic nasal voice) I stood for office at an institution, having gotten three other people elected to high office I just imagined that I could use all my best ideas to get myself elected too. The difference was: I wrote speeches for them. For my lazy, foolish self I imagined I could wing it with a bit of brandy in front of me. Instead, I simply stood in front of several hundred people and mumbled on a topic for 30 seconds i knew nothing about and then dried up entirely before announcing that I'd just died on stage. I wish I had. I wasn't even trying to make them laugh, just simply impart information and promote myself as a good candidate. I didn't even get heckled, by a bunch of drunked students, such was the pity and embarrassment we all felt for me. Such is the impact of that memory that it still ruins a couple of good wanks a year. For all of us.

So the other week I'm sitting around doing nothing and the thought suddenly enters my head to put my english mobile chip into my phone. It'd been a few weeks since I checked it and although I've been here for 6 months now I haven't quite let everyone know i don't live in england anymore. It's more enjoyable to reveal it many months after the fact, if then. And a message on the phone was left from a comedy promoter saying that i'd been selected and could I make this particular night at a comedy club in Surrey. It was already a week old and only gave me a week to prepare but in retrospect that made things better because i spent that week bouncing off the walls, pacing up and down the place reciting my refashioned 'set' and placing calls to all the funnymen i've ever known to get advice, encouragement and ideally, a method by which I could get out of this. It dawned on me that if the BBC hadnt given me the opportunity to do this, I never would. And I felt that perhaps I couldnt do this - what I needed was a good way out but instead I only got bloody reassurance and even a small amount of self-confidence from these chats. Damn these so-called friends.

This is taking too long. To summarise...

I take two days off to practice. I fly to England. Stay with someone funny. Treat myself in the delicatessens and boutiques of old London town. Go to the comedy club. Make friends with the staff, some of the punters and finally my fellow performers. There are 14 of us, plus compere and organiser / judge. The Beeb, no surprise here, have outsourced the competition to local organisers. It turns out 3 of us have never done stand-up before - all the rest are semi-pro and 'on the circuit'. What pleased me most was the lack of competitive bullshit from everyone. They all supported eachother and especially looked after myself and the two other new guys. And yes, looking down the list, it was a very representative bunch of comedic people. 14 highly middle-class names, 12 male, 2 female, all ugly. But to have a free comedy night where the audience have to sit quiet (no heckling allowed except at the compere) for over 3 hours is asking a lot and inevitably, those who went first had it easier. I went eleventh, on about the 2 hour 45 mark. I blame that not unentirely. I'm doing breathing and tai chi exercises before i go on. I'm swallowing expensive dark chocolates and flower remedies. I'm also fully out of cack so will be forced to poo empty air if the worst happens.

First joke - they LAUGHED! they LAUGHED! OH MY GOD! THEY FOUND IT FUNNY. THAT MUST MEAN THEY FIND ME FUNNY! I CAN RELAX! THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN JUST AS EVERYONE SAID IT WOULD. STYLE!

Second joke - Christ! they did it again. They WANT me to succeed! They're all looking at me and smiling. I'm taking heart from this.

Third joke - total silence. Oh shit. Too clever for them? Ah, I didn't speak into the mic did I? That'd explain it. Shall I explain it to them? (voices from several comedians enter my brain 'don't explain anything - move on for fuck's sake')

Fourth joke - Oh god. 2 all. Why aren't they laughing? Perhaps that joke isn't funny after all? Hang on. I'm not DOING jokes am I? Shit! This is going to be a long 7 minutes.

Fifth joke - A couple of laughs, some even in the right place. Ok. This is how it's going to go, fuck it, time to distance myself from the script.

Sixth joke - Yes! No longer going downhill, it's levelled out. The girl in the front row is giggling uncontrollably at me. I LOVE YOU! The rest of the audience are looking round wondering the fuck what. I can't say I blame them. What they don't know is that i've got less conventional jokes coming up.

Seventh joke - Right. That's it. Time to make a joke about them not laughing. Just have to think of one.

Ad-lib - HOORAY! they find me not being funny - funny! Better think of some more

Eighth joke - Some actual tumbleweed gusts in from nowhere.

Ninth joke - They laugh but not hard enough, goddammit! it's a good one, this. Almost gag-like. I fail to deliver it properly which doesn't help. By this time I have a certain group of people laughing at every joke. Unfortunately it's the comedians and compere in the back room. I vocally and explicitly start thanking them. It gets a laugh but i'm being serious.

Tenth joke - oh god! oh GOD! The look of incomprehension on their faces is almost beautiful in its sublimity. They are utterly lost. And then the follow up to this joke gets a good laugh so i move right on.

Eleventh joke - Fucking hell guys! Come on! That's FUNNY........Isn't it?

Twelth joke - I was afraid of this one from the start since it makes no pretensions to being a real joke. it's just some words slung together for comic effect. They look at me like i've just said something in Swedish.

Ad-lib about 'joke' 12: Hooray!!! they find that funny! And why not, it's richly taking the piss out of my pisspoor material. We all breathe a sigh. Theirs is of relief. Mine is just a sigh.

Thirteenth joke - The judge quite brilliantly PISSES himself laughing at this. The audience kind of think they get it and i appreciate their effort for that because it's quite esoteric. But everyone is looking at the judge.

Fourteenth joke - Silence is golden they say. But it's uncomfortable if you're showering in it.

Fifteenth joke - Is that the time? I should really, er, go somewhere or something

Sixteenth joke - Oh bollocks. It's audience participation time. I choose a guy in the front row who's already had a laugh with the compere. He looks exactly like Ben Johnson the disgraced Canadian sprinter from the late 80's. When I pick on him, he looks like he's ready to do the 100 metres in 9.87 seconds again but instead slowly grins and laughs. Incredibly, the audience find this so funny that they actually laugh. Quite a lot. This pleases me greatly. The back room comedians hold their end up and my greatest fan, the girl in the front row, is going to need stitches. I am SO HAPPY they're laughing.

Seventeeth joke - They laugh, they giggle, they puzzle. I think they're starting to come round.

Eighteenth joke - no they're not. They didn't get it and they didnt get the ad-lib afterwards.

Another ad-lib - this one, which was in fact a prepared line in case they really didnt laugh, gets the biggest laugh of my night so far. And no wonder - it's quite funny!

Nineteenth joke - Oh yes. Another one where everyone gets it.

Twentieth joke - FUCKING YES! the most conventional joke in the set gets a big laugh and a little groan since it's actually a crap pun. The judge is really loving it now. I'm really warming to it cos i know it's almost over and, MOST IMPORTANTLY OF ALL, i find i don't care quite as much that they're not laughing. I expected to be genuinely apologising by now. Perhaps I still am, but they're amused by it so I move straight on to joke 21.

Twenty-first joke - Oh bollocks. Come on people! What's wrong with you / me / the joke?

Twenty-second joke - Double bugger. Maybe they think I'm racist? But it's a joke again whites. Hang on, this is Surrey and they're all middle-aged.

Twenty-third joke - Nope. Not a jot. Quite political but i've decided they all read the Daily Mail so it's not surprising they don't get it. Or me. Or me them, I suppose.

Twenty-fourth joke - right. that's it. You FUCKERS! you WILL START LAUGHING. I regret to say I actually said that. And they obviously took notice. But not yet.

Twenty-fifth joke - Ah no. And somehow I knew it wouldnt go down well. But my old faithfuls, the comedians, the judge and the crazy girl all liked it. Time for another ad-lib and, yes, again they find it funnier than the actual joke.

Twenty-sixth joke - HOO-FUCKING-RAY! They get it. They love it. They laugh heartily and i've started getting the hang of delivering convoluted stuff. So i'm very pleased because it's one of the ones i was very afraid of.

Twenty-seventh joke - Yes! They laugh AGAIN. They ARE coming round.

Twenty-eighth joke - Good god it's going well this comedy stuff! They're laughing at it all and look like they're ready to carry on. All I have to do is supply them with the material. Oh shit...it's THAT one next. Oh well, I realise I don't care as much anymore so here goes...

Twenty-ninth joke - MAGNIFICENT. WHAT A BUZZ. GO ON, LAUGH GODDAMN YOU! I CAN TAKE IT. GO ON, FUCKING LAUGH.

Thirtieth joke - my last and it turns out my best. I'd been advised against it by some people and it's the rudest by far (in fact, there's only one other of a 'blue nature') but, middle-aged respectable Surrey duffers as they are, they absolutely EXPLODE when I deliver the punchline. It is the most wonderful thing to see a room fall about in laughter and disgust. Thank you. I love you all. It was all worth it.

So a big heartfelt THANK YOU to all of you who have laughed in the past - i wouldn't have done it without you. After the gig, the compere and the judge both made me promise i'd do at least 12 gigs before i even think about giving up (i was a little bit more dismissive of my performance at the time) and i then made a similar promise to some people closer to me. So i have to do it and i will. And i'm going to go on about it at some length from now on.

And you WILL LAUGH, GODDAMN YOU!
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it turns out, the bbc won't need me to stand up for it again.
it turns out, this doesnt matter to me after all
it turns out, i can stand up for myself
it turns out, i've discovered what making people laugh a bit, in the sheer fat flesh is like
and it's somewhat approaching the golden standard of Fucking Great




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And another thing it was made for - strong points of view, myth-busting and prodding the political in us all...

our dear Raoul's finally got a site to call his own and
it's just fucking great
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I'm going to stand up for the BBC

and while i'm busy doing that

here's what the internet was created for...

http://razghul.ice.org/misc/zoom/zoom.htm
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"INTERNETS"?
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well done this Austrian lady for winning a nice fat prize with no strings attached and no bells on (oh how clever). It's curious because her name quite aptly describes an aspect of her as you'll see from the photo, in the same way as Eddie Large is fat or George Bush is a hairy vagina...

http://www.reuters.co.uk/newsPackageArticle.jhtml?type=entertainmentNews&storyID=598699§ion=news
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Life has overtaken blogging once again - too much of interest and amusement to note down (i know that's the opposite of most blogging problems) - i'll be back with a full report next week maybe. In the meantime, here's a bunch of photos i'd been saving up - do click on them for the bigger picture. Maybe some more to follow. Oh what the fuck - i've been given a couple of big opportunities to make it here, then make it there, then make it anywhere and im too busy lying in bed deferring responsibility for making decisions about them to get down to blogging about them. now fuck off the lot of you.
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He should really try selling windows
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Somewhere in Dublin a sub-editor is getting rather bored with their job, I think
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That sounds just perfect. It's exactly what I'm after
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you're once, twice, three times a lawsuit i suspect
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I like offal as much as the next man but even I would think twice about meeting a woman who likens herself to Liver, Kidneys and Tripe.
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And repeat after me "I take this woman to..."
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Don't push for the hard sell too much, mate
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Am I naive here or is this a common caveat on massage ads?
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Yes, but what do they actually DO?
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I'm not sure how many Aardvark infestations you get in the Dublin area - and besides, there are no other Pest Control companies in the paper so why bother with the front-of-the-dictionary bollocks at all?
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I wrote a joke like this once proving that you COULD make it up although clearly there's now no need
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Thanks Clive, I'll do that. I'm not calling you to do it though you dirty fucker
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What?!
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that's right - Love, life and happiness but NO FALSE PROMISES
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why wait indeed? we'll show you exactly how to get beaten up in the comfort of your own home without any waiting around
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from the gut alright but not a lot of rot
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'Where to? Sure. Hop in. (driiiing driiing) Hello? Yes, I want a ticket for Alabama. Monday. Can you get that for me? Ok, thanks pal(click). I'm Alabama born and bred yes sir. The accent may be Ballymena, 23 years on and off driving this taxi in Dublin, but i'm an Alabama man yes sir. I got me some women troubles out there so I got to go sort it out before it all gets out of hand (driiiing driiiing). Hello? hi darling. are you ok? is he still there? ok, listen get out of the house, take the kids to your father's and don't go home again, ok? did he leave his guns? ok, listen carefully. take the clips out, reverse 'em and put 'em back in. then stick 'em in the safe. have you got your gun? where is it? ok, keep it under the pillow but also take out the clip and turn it round. yeah, i'm coming. don't worry, i'm gonna sort him out but jesus, be careful ok? can you imagine the headlines "Dublin Taxi Driver kills Alabama Mayor who's wife he's fucking!". Listen, i got customers i better go. talk to you soon (click). So i'm seeing this lady right, she's a real sweet girl, real kind and decent and purdy and all, and her husband's the mayor of this small town and he drinks and he's a bad sonofabitch and now he's smacking her about and well, he's from Philadelphia but we just don't do that in the South. And it gets worse cos she's the chief of Police! So i'm going over there to sort him out. I could kill him but I won't. He doesn't know about us but he suspects. He's begun to suspect. There's too many guns in that house. I have two guns myself. A handgun and a high-powered gun - it'll blow up a car at 400 metres. Cost over $10,000. Ah look, I've taken so many wrong turns here, look i'll not charge you whats on the meter. Give me half. Ok, thanks. God bless you now.'
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