Tush walks past in an expensive Ivory suit with the Intercontinental Title slung across his shoulder strolling across the compromising position of the masked man groping the poor bird.

"I heard about fifty percent of what you just said and I wish I didn't hear any at all because you have got to be the daftest cunt I've ever met in my life. You are less articulate than that paki Sanjay who owns a shop just down the road from me. I'm going to go to your grandparents' house, uproot their postbox and ruin their delicately beautiful garden by hacking away at all the fucking flowers with it, then I shall spear throw it through your window and impale your nan straight in the throat just as she's making porridge, then I'll feast on that bitch's flesh and laugh as you do absolutely nothing about it."