The flaming thing on my cake was all that was left of Saltydog's PC after I got to it....
Sense of humour? Huh! Says who?
Wanna make somthing of it? Step outside...
Jack goes thorugh. Door slams. Terry sits back at the bar, while IrishJack looks forlornly through the window, with rain dripping down his forehead, as the door is now locked.