..There's always someone worse off than yourself, and he probably lives in Wrexham. Have you seen the news from there lately? Pterodactyls swooping down and snatching babies from their mothers' arms, and the Cardassians off Deep Space Nine roaming the streets shooting people at will. Shocking business. Of course, we had a slight pterodactyl problem in the slum I lived in when I was at university, but nothing like that bad. In general you were all right if you carried an umbrella. And you see the occasional Cardassian around my home town, but they're quiet lads, keep themselves to themselves, glass the odd Bajoran now and again and mix it with the Jem'Hadar at chucking-out time, but that's about it. At least they're not Mormons. Those are the bastards I hate. Seventeen wives when the rest of us are lucky to get one. And they love to do it to Catholic girls. Five sisters I've had carried off by the Mormons now. Creeping round here with their long white beards and their covered wagons, the girls can't resist it of course. If the Osmond family ever show their faces round here again I'll kick their fucking heads in. Neighbours from hell, they were. Always borrowing sugar and never mowing their lawn. And their rhinoceros used to crap in our garden. My dad went round to complain once and they tried to feed him to it. What could I do, there were five of them. And Marie was the worst. Proper wildcat, Marie. Once I was walking up the street with a bag of sweets and she said, "Give me a toffee, lad, or I'll give you a dead leg, I know how to give dead legs, me," and I said no and she shot me in the kneecaps and watched me crawl home. Reign of terror, it was. Not like that nice Manson family on the other side. Very considerate, they were, never play Helter Skelter after dark. Always lend you tools and tell you if you'd left your car lights on. Salt of the earth. Anyway, what's on telly?
