| British Bulldog VS. Mr T |
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| Willie Thorne was outside in the lobby selling autographed photos of himself...business was particularly slack so Willie had begun regailing Hendry with tales of his snooker glories Willie: .....So mid way through the second frame I managed to pot a straight red that was hanging over the left hand pocket I had managed to screw the cue ball back up the table and leave it tight against the top cushion...to the untrained eye it looked like a monumental mis calculation but in fact it would prove to be my finest hour Hendry:Was this the time you started crying on the tv and hit Jan Ver Hass with your cue Willie: I wasn't crying...it was very humid and...... |
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| Jim swaggers into view....he is mumbling incoherently to himself. Jim: Sack me?......me?..oh they'll pay ...they'll all pay..(manical laughter) Jim's Inner Monologue: But Jim what about those HRM essays?..whose going to grade them? Jim: Don't worry...I hid them under some bushes in the garden... Jims Inner Monologue: but Jim... Jim: Silence!!! (Jim proceeds to batter himself around the head with the Drucker book..Willie Thorne, who has been watching all of this unfold, sneaks up behind Walsh an nails him with a snooker cue to the back of the head....Jim falls to the ground dying) Jim: Oh!...... the world was never meant for one as beautiful as me.(and with that Jim breathes his last). Willie:Oh did you hear the contact I made with that one Steven...reminds me of the time I played Anthony Hamilton in the Stockport Classic...I had just screwed back off a loose red.... |