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: Go on then Bruce, what scares you? Bruce
: The self-destructive nature of the human condition. Spoon
: You're just taking the piss now. Cooper
: What about you, Spoon? Spoon
: Castration. Cooper
: There's no argument there. Joe? Joe
: Only one thing guaranteed to put the shits up me: a penalty shoot-out. Cooper
: Figures. Terry? Terry
: Watching a penalty shoot-out... with Joe. Bruce
: What about you, Coop? Cooper
: Spiders. And women. And... spider-women.
: Look, I'll tell you what. Get on the radio, bring the Special Forces guys down on our heads, and after they've finished kicking you about, you can ask them what the score was. Joe
: What are ya trying to do? Mildly concern me? Bruce
: It's reality that bites mate, not the creatures from your head.
[Joe's complaining about the quality of the food
: I'm sick of this pre-packed dog shite. Bruce
: If it's not one thing, it's another, eh Joe? Spoon
: I know, you're like a bear with a sore head. Terry
: Thanks to Cooper's fancy footwork. Cooper
: Yeah, sorry about that Joe. How's your head doing? Joe
: Still in one piece. Knock on wood.
: Come on then Bruce, man. Lets hear the result on the radio. Bruce
: Why do you keep torturing yourself? Joe
: We might've slaughtered them. Bruce
: Yeah, then again, you might not. Terry
: We all wanna know the results Joe. We just enjoy watching you suffer. Joe
: Laugh. I nearly split my sides. Spoon
: Yeah, well there's no point tearing your hair out about it Joe... oops, sorry mate, too late.
[Joe watching the cow roasting on the fire
: Is anyone else thinking what I'm thinking? Bruce
: You are joking aren't you? Spoon
: You fuckin' animal. Joe
: Yea, you're all thinking the same thing aren't you? Spoon
: Mmmm. Joe
: Right lads, how do ya like your steak done? Wells
: You bunch of dirty bloody savages. You lot make me sick. God.
: Christ on a bike!