#394458 - Gordon Bastard roared “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY FUCKING KITCHEN? FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING FUCK SCROTE! YOU'RE ABOUT AS MUCH FUCKING USE AS A FUCKING BLIND LESBIAN AT A FUCKING FISH-MARKET! WE ARE FUCKING CHEFS AND WE HAVE FUCKING MEALS TO PUT OUT, COOKED, PLATED UP, OUT, DONE!” #1 spun around, and aimed a burst of gunfire above Bastard's head, blowing his hat off. They used to try to disguise themselves by standing out in open fields, tending flocks of sheep but they couldn't fool one, one used to let 'em have it just the same!” “Golly,” simpered Parry “it must be like, so cool being an English Prince and all, y'highness. Realising that their dinner had been destroyed, all three terrorists yelled at the remains of The Popular Front Of Jihad as it flew past (and partly onto) the window “SPLITTER!” The blast-proof door of Number Ten remained undamaged.
