“Aaaaargh!!! You just punctured my eye you rotten little drunk,” screamed Cyclops, the old dartboard at the pub. “I guess they will only realise my pain when I bleed. Agnostic infidels. I think I might as well just hang myself to death. Oh, I already am hanging. Somebody tighten the noose for god’s sake!” Silence. Snap. “Oops, the wrong head. Sorry nail.”
