Friday, December 18, 2009
Scott - why didn't you use Unofficial as the classification?
Classification: Smelling slightly of pineapple
a far better classification choice than any other offered by the Department...
Classification: COVERED IN BEES!!!
Classification: Its all sticky. Its made of jam!
Classification: Superficially resembles a Pekingese
now I'm getting funny looks from my colleagues because I keep laughing out loud...
You need to classify things as Likely to make you snort!
Classification: Sounds like a water buffalo mating call
Classification: High level snort hazard. Do not read if you take heart medication, are pregnant or like to sit at your desk at work pretending that you're playing a tuba.
Classification: When printed, ground up, and snorted, will give you hallucinations of Dame Edna eating live chickens
Classification: Squealing like a pig.
Classification: Squelchy underfoot
Classification: Unnecessary use of street slang, yo.
Classification: Going to distribute Christmas gifts
[Rebecca changes the email classification to: Likely to make you snort which breaks the email filter system and has to be changed]
I had to raise the classification as the work filter didn't like it
Classification raised from "Covered in bees" to "Covered in badgers".
Which is one less than "Covered in hundreds of screaming pygmies with tiny sharp knives"
I don't have to worry about them - GMail has a screaming pygmy filter.
They all get dropped into my Pygmy folder, where they get pureed and turned into pygmy jam (it tastes like a mix of lychee, mandarin, and mescaline).
There's nothing like a pygmy jam sandwich for when the munchies hit.
indeed - nothing beats a pygmy jam sandwich for a small snack
*puts some bread in the toaster*
Those look the typed commands for the world's strangest pc text adventure game
You are carrying:
] look crown
The crown appears to be made of solidified and moulded mollusc secretions. A tag inside identifies it as belonging to the King of Wrong, and also that it is size 45.
] look dumpling
You are not sure how, but the dumpling gives the impression of being sleazy. Handling it makes you feel cheap and dirty.
] eat dumpling
What are you, crazy?
] look map
It is a fold-out map of greater Wrongtown and its surrounds, including the twin cities of Grope and Goat.
] look stick
It is a very small spear. It must belong to a very small pygmy.
] look statue
This wooden statue is a small carved figurine of a corpulent figure bearing a ceremonial bib and bucket. A plaque on the bottom identifies it as the likeness of Omnommer the Devourer. It is heavy for its size.
] search statue
There's a bas relief sculpture on the statue's pedestal. It appears to be a coat of arms with two goats on either side of a wheel cheese with the motto "may vos exsisto labefactum in a goat". There appears to be a lever next to the coat of arms.
] pull lever
A door slides open in the wall next to you. A million screaming pygmies with tiny spears pour out.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Remind me to never fly... or drive... or, you know, GO TO Congo.
There is nothing in Congo you want to see
you can see them in a zoo
you can see them in Botswana
You are very silly
Friday, October 9, 2009
Scott, Forza 3's ludicrous car list:
Yeah, was looking at that earlier, I was thinking it might be a tad excessive. I mean, I like a lot of choice, but sometimes there's too much of a good thing
...says the man who has HOW MANY gigs of cars on his PC hard drive?
Flrrmmble. Hey look, a flying monkey!
Oooh, Fictional Monkey Distraction Man has added a new fictional monkey to his repertoire.
Well he had too, no one was falling for the plain old ordinary monkeys anymore. Now he's got flying monkeys, plaid monkeys, hipster monkeys, inflatable monkeys, car racing monkeys and giant golden glowing testicle monkeys. Those ones are VERY distracting.
"Why is it always monkeys? Couldn't you distract someone with an imaginary gibbon?"
Ficitional Monkey Distraction Man did have a sidekick for a while by the name of Unexpected Sloth Suprise Boy, but he was killed early in his career as a sidekick by a wildly misfired sloth.
Fictional Monkey Distraction Man: "Oh my god! It's a megatherium!"
Unexpected Sloth Surprise Boy: "A megawhattium?"
FMDM: "A megatherium, an extinct giant land sloth native to South America."
USSB: "Wait on... a sloth? You're trying to get me to look behind me at a SLOTH??? Do you have any idea what the Miscellaneous Union of Sidekicks and Henchpersons is going to say when they find out you have grossly overstepped the boundaries of my legally agreed-upon job description?"
FMDM: "But it's not fic-"
USSB: "No buts! This is a serious case of demarcation and I am not going to stand by and let you interfere with my safe working environment. I'm going to talk to my MUSH representative as soon as we can find that time machine and get back to-"
Megatherium: "GRAAAAARGH!!!" *splat splat splat*
Captain Bad Pun: "He's really a member of MUSH now!"
FMDM: "Oh, shut up."
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Who had the most munchable neck...
Hm... that ones a dead end...
There once was a girl named Rebecca
Who at night drove a red double-decker...
No, I don't think so...
There once was a sweetie named Reb
Whose name didn't rhyme with any bloody thing....
OK OK... Let's try another one...
There was a girl named RebbyLyn,
Who had the world's naughtiest grin.
She would wear it, I'm told,
While she searched for a hole
She could blow lots of raspberries in.
There ya go...
Thursday, September 3, 2009
This is actually looking pretty awesome...
I might have to pick this up, plus a couple of extra microphones for the three-part harmony vocals. :)
You can only play it if you speak like Ringo while doing so.
I would have to adopt a suitable "nom de batterie" (i.e. "drum name" - Ringo wouldn't have a pen name).
Unfortunately, following the pattern set by Richard Starkey -> Ringo Starr, I would have to be Jango Domm.
Jango Domm sounds too much like a Spanish porn star for my tastes.
So that would make me....Scongo Brenn? Its sounds like the name of a lost tribe
Or a background character in the Mos Eisley cantina who was only named so they could sell an action figure of him.
Scongo Brenn, the most useless bounty hunter in the galaxy.
"Lord Vader, I have assembled the most vicious and tenacious bounty hunters from across the galaxy to assist in the search for Han Solo."
"Excellent. Who is this?"
"This is Bossk, a ruthless Trandoshan. Cold-blooded, both literally and figuratively."
"Impressive. And this?"
"Boba Fett, spliced from one of the original clones, decades ago. He favours disintegration of his quarry."
"We need Solo alive, Fett. Remember that. And... uh... who the hell...?"
"Uh... my clipboard says this is Scongo Brenn... but it's hand-written at the bottom of my list... in crayon..."
"Scongo Brenn... I find your lack of pants disturbing."
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
aren't they fun? Shakespeare had it right with his "Kill all the lawyers" line
Wasn't that Maynard James Keenan?
Its very easy to confuse Shakespear and Tool.
Spot quiz: Were the following lines written by Shakespeare or Keenan?
F--k L. Ron Hubbard and
F--k all his clones.
F--k all those gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
F--k retro anything.
F--k your tattoos.
F--k all you junkies and
F--k your short memory.
Isn't that from the famous "F--k you" speech from MacBeth?
You cannot begin to imagine how much I wish that were true.
I probably can.
I believe the speech ends with "Verrily, f--k you, forsooth, t'wixt the nethers with a horn-ed goat."
Shall I compare thy face to a monkey's arse?
(I even kept the iambic pentameter!)
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Wasn't I reading that... before school started and my only reading material is pared down to text books and journal articles?
It will all be worth it when you have a degree and a humongously paying logistics/project management job.
And then bec can wear a hockey mask while she rides across the wasteland in her post apocalyptic truck all while screaming "I am the Lord Humungous!"
Her mob of crazed desert raiders would be unusually well-organised.
"Now remember, it's Hammer, Maggot, and Screech's turn to devour the flesh of our still alive and screaming victims. Oh, and Mungo, you're rostered for flamethrower duty."
Well of course, what's the point of all this studying if I don't get to have well-organised ravening hordes?
"Now Mungo, about your performance for the last 6 months, how do you feel you've been doing?"
"Uh, well, *scratches*.....I dunno....I killed them farmers out near Port Hope good, an', uh, I been keeping me guns all shiny an' working an stuff...uh..."
"Yes? Anything else?"
"Um....I bin scavengin' stuff good too. Like, I bin strippin' clothes off the bodies for us, but I bin makin' sure to get stuff that ain't, you know, too full o' holes and blood and stuff. Wozzers and Beef reckon the pants I got 'em off those dead hippies are the best they've ever had."
"Is there anything you think you could improve?"
"Uh...um...I reckon I could kick people some more, speshully when they're on the ground bleedin' an' stuff. An' I reckon I could probably do with some better war cries. I don' think mine are, y'know, scary enough...'I'll 'ave yer bollocks!'....I mean, it's not bad 'an stuff, but what if they
ain't got bollocks? I reckon I'd look pretty f'ckin' dumb shoutin' out that when they ain't got no bollocks to 'ave."
"Settle down please gentlemen..."
"Sorry, Madame Blood. Lady and gentlemen. I am now calling to order the general weekly meeting of the assorted wasteland marauders leadership committee. Our first order of business is the fuel-saving initiative. Many of our staff have been leaving their makeshift death buggies idling while they storm into unguarded settlements to rape and pillage. At last week's meeting I asked you to brainstorm ways to encourage our people to turn the engines off before embarking on their orgies of blood and death. Have any of you come up with good ideas?"
"Aw, yeah, uh..."
"Skullsplitter? You made some progress?"
"Uh, yuh. When Ox forgot he left 'is motor runnin' the uvver day, I hacked off both his arms an' set 'em on fire before he died from blood loss."
"Hmmm, I can't say I approve of unnecessary staff turnover. However, did you find it had any results?"
"Yah, de uvvers've bin too scared to even turn deir motors on since den."
"Ah, now, can you see the negative result here? Dismemberment of staff can lead to a drop in morale, which is bad for our overall productivity, not to mention the lost staff member."
"Awww, sorry Mistress Rebecca. I'll only rip off arms fer serious offences in future."
Saturday, July 4, 2009
You should sell that concept to Michael Bay!
REVENGE OF THE AIBO
An original screen play by Michael Bay
Scene 1 - INT - Suburban house, living room
TOMMY is playing with his SONY AIBO - be sure to get lots of lingering shots of the SONY logo; they're paying us a lot.
TOMMY'S MOM enters - she is smoking hot, the ultimate MILF.
MOM: Come on Tommy, time to go to school.
TOMMY: But Mom, I wanna play with my awesome Sony Aibo!
MOM: Tommy, I know that the Sony Aibo is both fun and educational, but you're going to miss your bus.
Suddenly, a yellow school bush crashes through the wall! Rubble flies everywhere in awesome slow motion!
TOMMY: Woah... looks like the bus only just missed ME!
A crazy old man jumps out of the bus. He's some kind of mad scientist, so cast someone English, maybe that Ewan McGregor fag.
He's clutching a funky electronic box under his arm, with flashing lights and sh-t. It looks super awesome and will make a great merchandising item.
SCIENTIST: You're in terrible danger! You have to run!
MOM: [Dusts herself off - her clothes are ripped in a super-sexy way.] What do you mean? I have to save my son!
SCIENTIST: [Checks out the MILF - you can see him drool] No time to explain. The XBots will be here any second!
Suddenly, evil white robots with bright green light-up circles in the chests burst into the smashed-up house! They look like evil XBox 360's, because Sony's paying us a f--king sh-tload of money.
ROBOT BOSS: [He's a bad guy, so make his voice English too - maybe like that Saruman guy.] Stop, human! Hand over the Scion of Destiny!
SCIENTIST tries to run, but the robots shoot him in a f--king wicked awesome effects sequence. The box he was holding flies through the air and hits the SONY AIBO. There's a bright flash of light and lots of wicked cool CGI as the power in the box transforms the Aibo into a giant silver and blue robot dog with machine guns and sh-t.
TOMMY: Wow, look how cool my Sony Aibo is now!
SUPER AIBO blasts the living sh-t out of the robots, and they run like hell.
Scene 2 - Inside the Pentagon...
This stuff writes itself, really.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Bleah. Blargh. Rargh. Grumble.
...said the grumpy giant.
The children squealed and hid behind Geoffrey the Magic Badger. Geoffrey did not want to let down his new friends, so he puffed out his chest and spoke boldly to the giant.
"Excuse me Mister Giant," said Geoffrey, trying to sound brave. "We have several issues of this fascinating magazine called Watchtower that we would like to sell you. Could you spare a few minutes of your time?"
[Extract from the unpublished Enid Blyton novel Door-Knocking in the Faraway Tree]
Monday, June 29, 2009
Once upon a time there were three little pigs. They were extremely shonky builders who made homes from substandard materials. The first pig made a house out of bendy straws. The wolf came along and, after a well-rehearsed speech centred around forceful exhalations, blew the house down, pureed the pig into a baconshake, and drank it through one of the many bendy straws. The second pig made a house from stickers. The wolf came along, noticed one of the stickers was a Texan pro-gun bumper sticker, and in a rage (he was a very left-leaning porcicidal hamovore) blew down the sticker house and made the pig squeal like Warren Beatty. It was pretty unpleasant. The third pig was going to build a house out of reinforced concrete and razorwire, but when he went to Bunnings to buy the materials he got all caught up browsing the garden section. The wolf caught him on the way home and ate both the pig and his newly-purchased tulip bulbs. After that he felt a bit unfulfilled, so he went and blew down a few houses.
Then he exploded for no adequately explored reason.
Nobody lived ever after, happily or otherwise.
Once upon a time there were three bears: Dwayne, Greg, and Eddie. They lived in a loving three-way relationship, and played fun games in which they pretended to be lumberjacks and plumbers.
One day their house got hit by a rogue asteroid that had been labelled GLDLKS01. They all got vapourised instantly, along with their black and red chequered flannelette shirts and tool belts.
...and they all lived vapourousnessnessly ever after.
Friday, June 26, 2009
I remember that crazy man banging and hollering at the farmhouse door. I remember pa telling me and ma "Git upstairs!" and we went, sure, but I didn't go far. I sat on the top step, and I saw my pa get his shotgun and shout through the door. "Who's there?" he shouted, trying to sound scary. "Larry!" was the shout from outside, and pa pointed the gun at the floor and opened the door.
Larry was the Sterlings' youngest. Mr and Mrs Sterling owned the next farm over, up against the foothills. Big property, but tough land to farm, and they was getting old. All their boys had gone - to the city, or those big cattle ranches over in the plains - but Larry stayed. When he weren't around, people would joke he was soft in the head, "born idjit" they said. Nobody said that stuff to his face, though. No fear or nothing, just that Larry was too friendly and cheery to be mean to.
No cheer that night, of course. Larry seemed like he'd gone crazy, eyes bugged out and hair messed and tangled like a tumbleweed. I knew he weren't too many years older than me, not shaving just yet, though looking like he'd need to soon. When he crashed into our front hall
that night, though, he looked older than his own pa. White, his face was. I remember thinking I never saw a face so white.
He stumbled over to pa, grabbed him, bear hug like, and they both went half down, kinda half sitting and half kneeling. I thought for a second that Larry was attacking pa and I was getting set to pelt down those stairs and drag him off, forgetting of course that Larry was twice my size.
But then his foot kicked back, slammed the door with his foot. After the mighty bang of it slamming, everything was still and silent for what felt like a long time. There was only one noise, a kind of bubbling and whistling. Took a minute, but I worked out it was Larry crying. He held my pa like a baby clings to its ma, and he cried into his chest.
Was weird, seeing a near grown man cry like that. I could see pa was out of his depth, too. His hands was up in the air and his face was all confusion and shock, like a man who cracks an egg into a frying pan and finds a goldfish inside. "What's goin' on, Larry?" His voice was gentle - he remembered who he was talking to - but there was a lot of worry in it. "Huh? Your folks okay?"
Larry stopped crying and pushed back, fast. His foot slipped out from under him and he plopped down on his ass. Would've been funny if I weren't so scared.
"Ma and pa..." Larry started, then stared. He tried again. "Ma and pa, they're dead."
"Dead? How Larry? Tell me." The gentleness had gone out of pa's voice - it was like a stone now.
"Ducks," he said. "The ducks did it."
Stay tuned next week for part two of Beyond the Valley of the Ducks!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Dates are Rebecca's kryptonite. If you follow her around shouting out random dates she eventually regresses to her demon form.
At that point you then stick mini-marshmallows up both her nostrils to place her under your control.
Once under control, she can grant wishes, but only if they involve cheese. The cheese can be peripheral or trivial, but it has to be there. Ask her for a billion dollars and she can't help you. Ask her for a billion dollars and a slice of processed cheese and she can do that.
One needs to be crafty when dealing with cheese demons.
Sorry, where was I?
Have you been smoking carpet samples again?
No, but that's an excellent suggestion.
*runs off to mug a door-to-door carpet salesman*
are cheese demons related to cheese weasles?
Distantly. Alongside Darwin's tree of life is a loosely parallel evolutionary path called the Tree of Cheese.
Its fascinating reading. I was always in love with the cheesosaurs when I was kid, my favourites being fromagiosaurus and goudasaurus rex.
More recently we have extinct megafauna such as the camembear.
and don't forget the edamites - hard wax casings have been found to prove they pre-dated the cheesosaurs
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
"What do you mean its the same story? The names are clearly different!"
"Yes, about that. You don't think David and Bavid are somewhat similar?"
"You know how Jerik slays Zord with the Blade of Kell at the end ofthe first book?"
"Yes, it's a fantasy classic..."
"...and Derek slays Zedd with the Blade of Krul at the end of the second book..."
"It's a deliberate foreshadowing! History repeats itself and heroes find themselves thrust into the same roles as their ancestors, the blood of mortal enemies flowing down through centuries and sustaining age-old battles!"
"I see. And in book three..."
"Book three is totally different! It's a female protagonist!"
"Yes... called Jerra, who slays Zood with the Blade of Khaal-"
"Hammer of Khaal, damn it! It was the HAMMER of Khaal!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. That's completely different then."
Monday, May 25, 2009
stop making me laugh you bastard
are you sure?
I'm being an accountant!!!!
don't, I might not love you any more
*accounts head off*
urm... I take the fifth
What's wrong with the fourth?
I don't even know what they all are!
The second is the right for gerbils not to be put in toasters.
The third is something to do with gerbils having the right to carry concealed weapons in case someone tries to put them in a toaster.
Of course, felons are not entitled to the protection of law, so prison showers have strict no-singing policies.
It's true! Ask Nadia!
She also pleads the 5th
I don't know what the right to glue polka dots on a llama has to do with anything.
She's away gluing polka dots on llamas, she's unable to help
Actually, I can see why so many people plead the fifth.
Oh I know, I just being provocative
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I knows stuff.
I have a brain full of stuff.
It's so full of stuff that stuff is constantly trickling out of it.
like a sieve ;P
Something like that.
Just remember that the unimportant water is allowed to trickle away
while the important spaghetti is kept.
"Spaghetti" in this case representing Doctor Who trivia and Beatles lyrics.
....and water being my friends' birthdays.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
fair enough... what will you actually use it for?
I can do them without technological assistance.
but lappy can provide musics
true, but dances with music have an added edge that dances without musics don't
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
"Do you deny that you are in league with Satan, that through his dark powers you are granted unholy magic, and that to curry his favour you cavort naked by moonlight and engage in sinful, savage ceremonies?"
"I seen 'em! I seen 'em with me own eyes! They gather at night, they do, in the meadow for their unholy satanic rituals of lying down and burping quietly! But that's not the worst of it - they do it all while naked!"
"Evildoer! Is this true, that you consort naked with devil in afrenzy of goatish lusts?!"
"My lord, it is naked as we speak!"
"Your honour, look at its feet! Cloven hoofs, like as to the Dark Prince himself!"
"And horns! Just like those of he who fell from grace! And fleece! Does it not wear the very fleece of Satan??"
"The fleece of satan? I never pictured the dark one as woolly, more sort of....scaly."
"Uh.....well, yeah. I was kinda on a roll, sorry."
"Nono, my fault, please keep going, you were doing very well."
"Um... the beard?"
"YES!!! THE BEEEAAAAARRD!!!! Such as that which graces the very chin of the Dark Lord himself!"
"And the ears! The ears that droop in ways most unholy!"
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The important question: is [new staff member] likely to go insane like the last few people I was given?
Does Cthulhu slumber endlessly underneath your water cooler or something?
Yeah, though we call him George these days. He's good for football tips and always waves a tentacle when someone walks by.
Scott, just remind your staff before they begin their inevitable slide into gibbering insanity that the Expiring Narrator literary device is very poor form, especially in epistolary writing. If I catch anyone writing, "Ah, I am dying!" there'll be trouble, particularly if the narrative ends with a final sentence interrupted by an em-dash or ellipse.
Monday, February 23, 2009
"Afghanistan is a nation populated entirely by semi-anthropomorphic jellyfish. Its principal exports are plastic lawn furniture and Bob Saget."
The Taliban is able to fund its activities by selling high-grade Bob Sagets in Western markets
"Afghanistan is a very dry nation, receiving only 45mm of precipitation in an average year, with 35mm of that being custard."
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
I've come to the conclusion that Canberra are incapable of doing anything but making demands
"Good evening sir. Table for one?"
"Certainly, sir. So, table for one. Here we are. Now, can I get you a drink while you peruse the menu?"
*blink* "I take it you'd like to press straight on with ordering your dinner then. Can I recommend the salmon? Freshly delivered this afternoon and exquisite quality."
"Well, if sir is not interested in the salmon, the veal and the venison are both very good."
"FOOOOOOOOOOD!" *starts banging cutlery on table top*
"If sir is having trouble choosing a particular dish, perhaps I can persuade the chef to furnish you with a sampler platter?"
"...or perhaps I should just get him to slop a random pile of crap into a bucket for you."
Thursday, February 12, 2009
And HR are so far not inclined to resolve my short angry dwarf problem.
[James appears in a white coat]
Hello. Have you or someone you love ever suffered from problems with short angry dwarfs? It may surprise you to know that such problems are more prevalent than you may think.
[Does that slow walk while addressing the camera thing, with an office in the background]
Every year in Australia, thousands of people are struck down by dwarfs. Many of these people feel that they have nobody to talk to about their condition, and suffer alone and in silence.
[Stops and rests his hand on the shoulder of a shy-looking child]
Here at the Angry Dwarf Research Institute, we have been developing safe, affordable, and effective treatments for those with embarrassing and painful dwarf-related conditions. Don't you owe it to your family, and to yourself, to seek help?
Voiceover: This message was brought to you by the National Campaign to Eliminate Dwarf Infestation.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
I smashed my knees against the table in the level 25 fishbowl. That table is big and heavy. I think I broke my knees.
Sir Scott, level 6 public servant, rolls to attack level 25 fishbowl!
Sir Scott has a critical fumble! Roll for location.
Result: 12 (Knees)
Sir Scott's knees are dealt 7 damage by the fishbowl's table.
Sir Scott must roll vs Will to resist swearing loudly in front of the Deputy State Director.
Result: 13 (Success)
1) carry out everyday tasks with a far greater degree of pomposity than remotely justified in context;
2) forget every piece of technical procedure ever learned and rely on the services of a PA in much the same way that a foetus relies on an umbilicus and placenta; and
3) disregard all impracticality, illegality, and stupidity from all instructions received from superiors interstate and deliver these instructions as gospel to subordinates.
Monday, February 2, 2009
I just read it. I think it's your best one so far
Oooh-errr, that's a big call...
Even better than my one last year that used Tetris as the starting point for a flawless conciliation between relativity and quantum mechanics?
That was good, but I did think you kind of got a bit lost trying to fit the duck into it.
The duck is definitely an important part of the puzzle. One day I shall decipher his enigmatic role... one day, duck... one day...
And then we shall have the James [surname] Theory of Quantum Duck Entanglement'?
I hate it when my quanta get entangled with a duck...
In the end, everything is chairs
Are there ducks sitting on the chairs?
Even more interesting than quantum entanglement is cumquat entanglement.
It's based on the QM idea that unpopular fruit that lies unobserved in the supermarket bins for long enough will technically cease to exist.
And if someone does eventually observe it it turns into a duck.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I finally have a name for my character:Crummon Uthbot, known affectionately to friends as "Crum" and to enemies as "argh get that axe out of my spleen"
Just don't hang out with Conan.
"I said Crom."
"Oh, you thought..."
"You have really hot biceps."
"Sorry, Conan - straight."
"Oh, no, I meant..."
"It was a compliment. Nothing..."
"You know, not a..."
"I mean nah, not a..."
"So... Cimmeria, eh?"
"Yeah. It's a hole."
"Yeah, couldn't wait to get out of it."
"Only just got a 7-Eleven last year."
"Oh, you were talking to me?"
"Oh, sorry, I thought..."
"Yeah, like an oath."
"It was a come on."
"Sorry mate, still straight."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, that one was an oath."