Marilyn Monroe is pissing me off, Charlie Chaplin owes me twenty bucks, that fucker Shrek tried to fuck my girlfriend at Baskin Robbins.

One way or another we’re taking your bank. All you have to do is decide the level of persuasion we need to apply.

How was it they had cut to Hollywood Boulevard for a fluff piece and ended up with Gangs of New-Fucking-York?! Bonnie looked to her co-Anchor. He was wearing a good mouth for cooling soup.

Every little prick out there wants me to lift them. I had this one kid from Oklahoma, big fat shitter he was. Legs as fat as a Downers forehead screaming Up, up, Hulk up! at me for ten minutes until I had no other choice. Fat fucker damn near put my back out and then his old man stiffs me with Canadian dollars. Canadian, can you believe that shit?!

They stood either side of him like haunting little genetic bookends. The one thing he’ll leave behind, two kids who called another man for help with their homework.

The boulevard was awash with the curious and the shocked as wave after wave of tourist crashed into the unmoving masses of families who had just witnessed a brawl between The Incredible Hulk and SpongeBob Squarepants over territory, boundaries and the age old issue of ownership.