[Voice]

[frigginsterling]

Hey guys.

If you don't know me, I'm Woody. Whatever Cuthbert might tell you, I am neither a potato or a bullet. Yeah?

Awreet. So, down to business. Point is, last few weeks have been fuckin' shite. Everyone needs cheerin' up, right, have a bit of a laugh, kick back. So...[He counts on his fingers]...we've got no alcohol, no dope, no fags, no record

Comments

[askthelookout]

No, you're an old man with a potato for a head, there's a difference.

Poker? That's the game that's like Watch Me, is it? That sounds like more fun than a billy-bumbler with a tutu on - I'll be there, for sure! Anything you want me to bring, or shall I just bring an ace on a spring and a deckful of mirrors?

[frigginsterling]

Bring whatever the fuck you like, as long as you don't mind me stamping on it or kicking it through a window. That includes yourself, you old bastard.

[askthelookout]

Old? I thought we'd established that you were the old bastard, and I was the young whippersnapper!

[frigginsterling]

Young bastard, then.

[askthelookout]

Thankee.

[frigginsterling]

Not a problem. I can call you a bastard any time I like.

[askthelookout]

As long as that goes both ways, I see no problem, you skinny, potato-headed son of a bitch.

[frigginsterling]

Ah, but I didn't say fuckin' thankee for that.

[askthelookout]

Clearly, as you have no manners whatsoever beyond that of the common pig. Don't worry about it, skinny, potato-headed sons of bitches can still get ahead in life better than skinny, potato-headed sons of horses. Sons of horses just turn into glue, hence the name of my first horse.

[frigginsterling]

Ooh, lemme guess, Soon-To-Be-Glue. Giddyup, Soon-To-Be-Glue.

[askthelookout]

No, but Soon-To-Be-Glue would have been my second choice.

[frigginsterling]

First choice...ooh, Sai-Glue?